Shadows of Truth and Deception (Levi • OC)

CHAPTER 25 - Revenant

revenant /ˈrɛvɪnənt/ — a person who has returned, especially from the dead

     She needed something to extinguish the blazing, consuming fire of numbness that threatened to burn her last shreds of sanity. A punching bag. Sex. Stabbing a knife into someone's throat. Something.

     She didn't even know how she ended up in the dark alleys of Karanes, but she entered the first bar she saw. Two downed glasses of whiskey didn't help. The anger was tightening her chest, and she didn't even know who she was angry at anymore. Eren for being the reason her friends died? That bitch for murdering them? Erwin for dragging her into the Survey Corps? Levi for not retrieving their dead bodies? Herself for not saving them in the first place? She didn't know. And it didn't matter.

     Anger was familiar to her—she had been angry her whole life. But whatever feeling gnawed at her wasn't just anger. It was something that made her feel empty, yet it overwhelmed her to the point of wanting to scream.

     It took one unfortunate soul to bump against her at the bar, and fists started flying. She knocked the man down with one swing, and when four of his friends lunged themselves at her, a cruel, cold smile stretched her lips.

     The feeling of blood on her knuckles calmed her. The stinging pain of her burst lip sent shivers down her spine. A knee to her abdomen made her stomach turn, yet she laughed before smashing a bottle of wine against the attacker's head.

     People ran out of the bar in fear of her fists itching for more. Some drunkards remained, much to her pleasure. But before she could strike another one down, someone grabbed her by the back of her collar and threw her out into the cold alley.

     She coughed, holding onto her aching side. She spat blood onto the cobbled ground before looking up.

     "Still so rowdy, my darling? Or are old habits harder to shake than you thought?"

     Her blood went cold. Even if he hadn't spoken with that raspy, smug voice, she would've recognized him.

     The coat. The fedora. The grinning set of bright white teeth. There was no misplacing him.

     He kneeled before her, clicking his tongue with feigned disapproval. She couldn't move, only stared at him. She hadn't seen him for almost a decade, and the last time she did, she had a knife against his neck. Her eyes drifted down from his face, landing on the scarred skin above his collarbone.

     "Ah, yes," he chuckled. "My favorite accessory to wear these days." His fingers touched the white scar. "Not that I have much choice, though."

     She met his grey eyes.

     "What are you doing here?"

     "Looking for you," he replied.

     Something flashed in his gaze. Something dangerous.

     He lifted his hand and brushed a thumb against her torn lip. She turned away from his touch.

     It took her all her strength to rise to her feet without wincing. "You found me. What now?"

     "We need to talk."

     "I have nothing to say to you."

     She started walking away. It was better that way, or else she wouldn't leave him with only a scar this time.

     "You want to talk to me, darling." His silky tone revealed a threat, which made her stop for a moment. She faced him, his face hidden in the shadow of the fedora.