An Unlikely Triad

Chapter 5 - Levi

the arcane OST is golden

TW: Blood

One year, two months, and six days later.

I'm out. I can't believe it, but I'm out.

I've been trying to escape since the moment I've been arrested. I put up a fight at court, I tried to escape while being interrogated, and I've had four escape attempts at prison, three of which were unsuccessful. And followed by painful consequences.

And the fourth? We'll see.

I grip the steering wheel tightly with my blood-covered hands, blinking it out of my eyes as I stamp hard on the gas, the vehicle lurching forward.

- - -

I stagger out of the rusty truck, a hand gripping the bullet wound in my side tightly, the blood staining my already-dirty jumpsuit. My other hand covers a gaping hole in my right eye. Both of my hands are painted bright red.

Really brings out my eyes, I muse darkly. Or eye, now.

I push the door of the convenience store open, pain slashing through every part of my body, and my gaze falls on the thunderstruck lady at the counter. "Do you have a first-aid kit?" I ask.

The woman doesn't miss the hoarseness of my voice. Or the gun sticking out of my pocket.

"Y-yes," she stutters, pulling one out from underneath the counter. "Do you know how to–"

Of course I fucking know how to use one, I want to say, but I instead give her a weak 'yeah'. I note the nametag pinned on her shirt. Katie.

Her hand creeps to her phone, and my eyes dart to the device. "You call them and you're as good as dead." Not that I can do much in my state. I pull open a roll of bandages and wrap it as tightly as I can around the wound, gritting my teeth as my body barks in pain. I grab a medical eyepatch and carefully place it over the wound. This is the most I can do about it for now.

I glance at Katie, who hasn't stopped staring at me yet. "Keep this," I say, slapping a few crumpled bills on the counter. "Thanks." I stumble out the door and head back to the truck, keeping my head down. I'll have to find some clothes later on.

I drive for about twenty minutes until I reach the familiar apartment building, still in good shape. I try the handle and just as I expected, it's locked, but the key's under the eave where it usually is.

It takes me ten minutes to climb two flights of stairs in my wounded state. I finally reach the mahogany door at the end of the hallway and kick the door open, and I cough as dust billows in my face.

I step inside the deserted-looking apartment. The apartment I used to live in. "Monkz?" I call out, clearing my throat and trying again. "Biscuity?"

The bedroom hasn't been used in so long; I can tell. Neither has the living room or the dining room. I check the calendar hanging on the wall, and I freeze. It's still set to the date a little more than a year ago.

A sick feeling blooms in my stomach. "Biscuity!" I yell to the empty home. "Monkz!"

My heart thumps louder in the silence of the long-empty home. The home I once inhabited.

My family– the family that left me to die in prison, that didn't give a shit about getting me out– turned their backs on this place. And on me. So I decide to let go as well.

I turn away from my family's bedroom for the last time and step out the door. And I don't look back.

A.N: eek im so sorry for delaying thisss