Uhh... I tried writing something:
“Sidestep?” Ortega’s horrified voice is filled with denial and disbelief as your mask falls to the ground.
“Yes. It’s me.” You say, averting your gaze. You don’t want to see the judgement in his eyes. But when he steps forward and cups your chin in his hands, you’re surprised to see nothing but anguish and anger - not at you, but at what had been done to you.
“Why are you doing this?" he whispers quietly. "You’re a hero, I know you are. You worked with the Rangers. Why play the villain now?”
The words trigger something in you. Heroes? No, you can’t afford to let those emotions and memories lead to your downfall. Not again, never again. That part of you is dead. You have to get him to stop talking. He doesn’t need to know. It’s safer that way. It’s better that way.
“Why?” Ortega repeats, and something in you snaps.
“Because I have no choice!” you scream, clenching your fists by your side as you shove him away, your tightly-wrung emotions exploding in a flood of anger and bitterness. “Because I just want to be normal again, and I don’t trust any of you to help me!”
There is a tense silence.
“You don’t trust us? Me?” Ortega finally whispers. “I thought we were friends. Allies.”
You snort. Friends? Allies? You don’t think you know what those words mean anymore. Perhaps you never did. “I thought we were more than that,” you say, and a small part of you smiles as he flinches at the words.
“It’s not too late,” he says hesitantly, reaching out as if to grasp you. As if to save you from the black tide that had been suffocating you ever since you were marked all those years ago.
A bitter laugh escapes your throat. “It is. It had been once they did this to me."
You turn away from him and wrap your arms around the scars. You sigh, suddenly feeling terribly exhausted. “Why?” you whisper as you scrub your face. Your eyes are wet. It must be the rain right? That must be it. You can’t be crying. “Back then… Why didn’t you look hard enough? Why didn’t you find me?”
He doesn’t have an answer to that. He knows that ‘sorry’ isn’t enough.
With the silence growing between you, you turn away and hop off the rooftop, running off into the night. You will yourself not to turn back.
But when you are sufficiently far away, you do.
He’s still standing there, frozen in the same place as he was when you left. As far away as you are, you know that the glistening upon his face is not just because of the rain.
And as much as you don’t want to admit it, you know that the expression on his face mirrors your own.
