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chapter three, what remains.
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IN THIS WORLD IT was hard to come by genuinely good people, Nadia Vale believed she discovered that within the group she had stumbled upon thanks to Finley. They were fractured and deep in mourning, similar to the state of her family. Nadia never wanted to strip them of their dignity or set them ablaze but she was now sitting isolated in a corner. Similar to how she left Finley in the church. All thanks to her outbursts.
The heat was scorching, due to the sun sitting higher. It was a heavy summer, too dry, making her irritable. Everyone was feeling the downside of the weather and now sat on top of a roof, waiting for more cops to reason with. Everyone was discussing the plan or looking after the hostages, while Nadia sat with nothing. Her fingernails played with the leather of her belt, it feels lighter than usual, due to the absence of a gun and axe. It felt foreign to her being weaponless, a sad reality.
Sweat began to glaze her forehead, due to the unbearable heat, her orbs fixated on the intricate stitching on her belt. The stitch was an off-white, poor attempt at Javier's stitching skills. It amazed her how the man was in the military before all of this. A smile lingered on her lips, images of her playing with his dog tag at their most peaceful of moments. She ached to have those moments back.
