mess it up, ˢᵃᵐ ᶜᵃʳᵖᵉⁿᵗᵉʳ

𝟎𝟎𝟕.

The sun had barely risen, casting a pale, cold light over the street where the police moved methodically, covering Anika's lifeless body with a stark white sheet.

Madison stood rooted to the spot, staring without blinking, every muscle in her body locked in place for ten long minutes. Her mind was a numb fog, refusing to process the finality of what she'd just witnessed.

Voices called her name, concerned, gentle, pleading, but Madison didn't respond. She was gone somewhere else, trapped inside the shock and horror of it all.

The only flicker of movement came when Sam appeared beside her, silently offering a cigarette. Madison accepted it without a word, her hands trembling as she lit it and took a slow drag, the smoke burning her lungs but doing little to clear the fog.

When the cigarette was finished, she dropped it on the cracked pavement and crushed it under the heel of her boot, the sharp scrape sounding louder than anything else around them.

Snapping out of her trance, Madison limped over to Mindy, the ache in her side flaring painfully with every step.

She bit her lip to keep from crying out. "Minds, how are you doing?" she whispered, voice raw and fragile.

"Not good, Madi. Not good at all." Mindy's words were hollow, soaked in grief. Madison didn't reply, there was nothing to say, but pulled her sister into a tight embrace, the physical connection the only anchor in a world that felt like it was falling apart.

Seeing her siblings like this, their broken faces and  shattered souls, was exactly why Madison and her mother had insisted on moving them away.

A fresh start, a chance to heal. But now, watching the flashing red and blue lights, the crowd gathering behind the yellow tape, she knew it had all been a cruel illusion.

They would never be safe again.

Not here. Not anywhere.

After what felt like an eternity, Madison hobbled back to Sam. The early morning light fell unevenly over Sam's face, tired but alert.

"How are you, Mads?" Sam asked, her voice steady but gentle, offering her arm. Madison leaned into it, grateful to take some of the weight off her injured leg.

"I'm fine," Madison shrugged, forcing the words out even as a sharp pang radiated from her thigh.

Sam's eyes narrowed in concern. "Your hand hasn't stopped shaking."

"It's a stress thing," Madison said quickly,
waving her off. "I'm fine."

Sam didn't look convinced, but she let it go for the moment.

From across the street, Danny watched them quietly, the guilt weighing heavily on all their faces. He stepped forward, his voice calm but filled with sympathy. "It's not your fault."

"It kind of is," they said together, the bitter truth hanging between them. Madison let out a hollow laugh, the sound brittle and cracked, and it sounded more like a sob.

Her gaze flicked between her brother and sister. "When we moved to New York, I promised Mom I'd protect you both. And I couldn't even do that."

Shame curled in her chest, choking her. Sam wrapped an arm carefully around Madison's waist, cautious not to aggravate her injuries.

"Someone took the knives from our kitchen," Sam whispered, voice barely audible. "Before we were attacked, someone removed them. We couldn't fight back. I don't know who to trust anymore."

"Then don't trust anyone," Danny said coldly, looking Sam in the eye. "Not your so-called friends. Not me. Not even each other, if you don't want to."

Sam shook her head slowly. The only person she truly felt she could trust was the woman standing next to her. Of course, she trusted her sister, but with Madison, it ran deeper, rooted in history, pain, and a fragile hope.