Villain Or Not

8; shattered pieces

• State Lines - Novo Amor •

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i've been awake in every state line

dyin' to make it last us a lifetime

tryin' to shake that it's all on an incline

find me a way, i'll be yours in a landslide

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They had buried her sister on the first of February, when the winter air was still swirling through the air, dark clouds coloring the sky gray. A small funeral, held out of sympathy by one of their old relatives. 

Snow drifted faintly from the sky, gray white blanketing the ground.

A few people stood scattered around the room, government officials waiting to take her to an orphanage, faces blank and uncaring.

 She ignores them, wishing she could run away before they had to chance to steal away, seal the finality of everything. 

Carved letters on the stone set both the death of Sophia, and Salera's soul. 

It'd been a dead day to match her mind, as Salera stands in the middle of the room, a mere shadow of what she was before, snapping frosty petals off a rose and thinks about how Sophia never wanted flowers at her funeral. 

She'd laughed when the topic came up, and said flowers were too happy a decoration to have at such a dreary thing. Too bright, too hopeful, for a death.

Salera had nodded, but secretly disagreed. She thought flowers were good symbols of life. Fragile, beautiful, at full bloom for far too short a time, and too easily plucked from life. 

She ended up agreeing, though. 

The stabbing crimson bleed of roses only reminds her of blood, blood sticky on her fingers and knees and blood coming from places they shouldn't. 

The gleaming yellow shine of daisies remind her of sunlight, sunshine when there were better days, day where it seemed like there would only ever be smiles to fill her memories.

 The sky blue blaze of posies stand out too much from the room, dragging attention away, and make her think about Axa, the beautiful boy who tore her life from under her feet and ripped it to fluttering pieces. 

The last shredded pieces of the rose slip to the ground, and Salera is leaving the last pieces of herself at the gravestone with them as she follows the police officers away. 

She's still thinking about that day, the day everything she knew had crumbled to pieces and she'd been lead away to a new one (one she wasn't sure she liked so much), when she gets the call. 

Her beeper rings, shrieking through her ears in a emergency signal. She snatches up the phone, much too desperate for distraction from her thoughts. 

The name blinking from the bright screen sends her mind falling, fading, spiraling into a maze of what the actual fuck. 

Axa Ladion, it reads. Spotted on the corner of Revanche street.  

Her heart stutters and skips a beat, and suddenly feels like it'll jump right of her chest.  Her guns are in hand before she can blink, body moving on autopilot after having planned to this day for so long.

She pulls her hood on, eyes sweeping down the glowing screen one last time, and slips out the door in a shadowy mess of emotions, of hungry need for revenge and hate and anger. (And something else, something that hurts more than the others).

Before this, Salera used to wonder what would happen when she finally finds Axa Ladion. Or when he finds her. 

She knows that she'll meet him, one way or another, because there's no running from your fate. (She learnt that much too well).

Maybe he'll kill her, eyes bright with lighting sparks, power flashing from his hands. Maybe she'll be the one to end him, eyes cold and hard and dead, bullets ricocheting around the walls. 

And maybe they'll die at each other's hands, like a twisted version of Romeo and Juliet. 

Now she'll finally get to find out. 

(But a part of her isn't so sure she wants too, anymore).

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