VENGEFUL ✸ Matt Murdock

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 , a burning hill

THE HALLS WERE FLOODED with hurried teenagers. All around Clay, she was surrounded by kids her age and older, with no familiar faces of friends. She hadn't really had friends.

She had one. Leo. But that had been all.

Here he was, looking down at Clay with a grin on his face. "You don't look very excited for high school." Leo's voice still hadn't matured. It remained high-pitched but without fear. He was never afraid of anything, it seemed.

"I'm not." Clay sighed, attempting to punch in the code for her locker. After what felt like the tenth time, she gave up, punching her fist into the red metal. "Why don't they make these stupid things easier to open?"

Leo shrugged. "It's not the locker's fault."

Clay rolled her eyes. "How are you so happy? This school smells awful and everyone is loud."

"Hmm," Leo hummed, searching around as he slid his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. "I don't smell anything. And all I hear... are the bells of new beginnings."

Clay's eyebrow raised at this as her lips parted in shock. "Seriously?"

He nodded, his eyes and lips both closed in content.

"You're crazy."

Leo now grabbed her hand and tugged her to what would be their first class of high school, Honors English.

CLAY WOKE UP TO A COMPLETELY silent apartment. And the worst part about it--she'd gotten used to it. It had been six months since the trials and she had her sisters torn from her. Six months since she'd lost her best friend and the last few pieces of herself. 

She'd been living the same routine every day since she gave up on getting her sisters back last month. First, she'd get out of bed, then brush her teeth. 

She still washed her face, too, except, only with cold water and that's all she would do. That's all she had. There hasn't been warm water in weeks and it'd become her regular. 

Each time the liquid touched her skin she'd imagine it being Fisk's blood, or perhaps one of those FBI officers who shot Leo. And the thought would bring her just a little bit of bliss. Not enough to make her smile, or lighten, but just enough to tug at that part of her brain that screams at her to make them all pay every day.