Redemption

Chapter 8: The Shrine

A/N: Anika shall not die this time. We will make it happen. Above is the inspiration for a bit of the next few chapters, expect more electric guitar covers like this one since I heavily indulge in the idea that Amber has to have played guitar at least once in her lifetime. 

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Amber sits alone in her room, fingers gliding across the strings of her sleek electric guitar as she plays a cover of "Let the World Burn" by Chris Grey. The song pulses in the background, its heavy rhythm blending with the notes she pulls from her instrument. Her room is dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the soft glow of her computer screen and the faint light seeping through the curtains. As she plays, her mind drifts, thoughts swirling in the quiet chaos of her solitude. 

She can't help but dwell on the fact that she's been added to a group chat against her will—a chat with the survivors in it. It's a strange, uncomfortable space for her, and she barely participates, preferring to keep her distance from those who lived through the events she was a part of. The reminders of the past, of what she did, are too much to bear. She feels out of place, like an outsider in a conversation she never wanted to be part of.  

Amber hums softly to the melody, the music a temporary escape from the heaviness weighing on her chest. The familiar song should bring her some comfort, but it only deepens her sense of isolation. The notes hang in the air, but they don't reach anyone else—not like they used to. 

Eventually, she stops playing and lets out a heavy sigh, the silence in the room pressing down on her. It's sad, she thinks, that she truly has no one to share this with anymore. There was a time when every guitar cover she played was for Tara—her best friend, her confidant. They would listen together, laugh, and critique each other's tastes in music. But now, all of that is gone. Tara probably hates her, and Amber knows she deserves it. The memories of what she did in 2022 are a weight she carries alone, a burden that has severed every connection she once had. 

Sometimes, in moments like this, Amber wishes she could go back in time, and undo the choices that led her to this point. Fix everything. But she knows that's impossible. The past is set in stone, and all she can do is live with the consequences of her actions. She leans back in her chair, staring at the ceiling, her guitar resting silently in her lap as the echoes of her regrets fill the room. 

Her thoughts begin to drift, pulling her away from the present and back into memories that sting with bittersweet clarity. She remembers every good time she had with Tara—the laughter, the inside jokes, the shared moments that once seemed unbreakable. Before the darkness of the attacks cast a shadow over everything, there was a bond between them, a bond that Amber thought would never be broken. She had promised Tara she would never hurt her, that she would always protect her. But promises are fragile things, and on September 23rd, 2022, Amber shattered that promise most devastatingly. 

The images flash through her mind, sharp and unforgiving. She sees herself, sees the horror of that night as she became the very thing she swore she'd never be. She remembers every detail with painful precision—how she stabbed Tara seven, maybe eight times, the knife plunging into flesh with sickening finality. She remembers the cold detachment she forced upon herself, even as she drove the blade into Tara's hand, and how she stomped on the girl's ankle with such brutal force that it snapped. It's a memory that haunts her, a moment that replays over and over in her mind like a relentless nightmare. 

Amber knows she has no right to be forgiven. The enormity of what she did, the sheer cruelty of it, is something she can't ever take back. The weight of her actions bears down on her like an oppressive force, a burden she's carried for most of her life. But this—this betrayal—is a weight unlike any other. It's a wound that festers deep within her, a constant reminder of the person she became in a twisted pursuit of a goal that now seems so meaningless.