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"A message from Vander, to Silco," Vi whispered, her voice barely audible, almost as if she was afraid the words might echo too loudly in the thick, suffocating air of the room. She stood rigidly, her back turned towards us, her shoulders slumped under the weight of the past that seemed to bleed from every corner of the room.
Jinx, curious as ever, leaned forward, her eyes fixated on the note on the desk, her fingers hovering over it like she wasn't sure if touching it would make it real. Her usual playful spark was absent now, replaced with something more fragile, something almost reverent. She took a step closer, and the dusty floor creaked beneath her, but she didn't seem to notice, her focus completely on the paper that had just found its way into our hands.
I couldn't bring myself to look at it—not yet. My eyes were drawn to the remnants of the room, the forgotten clothes hanging from the rafters, frayed and worn, the lingering scent of old fabric and stale air filling my nostrils. There was something deeply haunting about seeing Vander's old clothes—the leather jacket of his and Silco's. They both hung there, like phantoms of a time when things made sense, before everything went to hell.
This room—this small, forgotten space—felt like a time capsule, a frozen moment from the past. Dust coated every surface, and the air itself seemed heavy, weighed down by the memories that hung in the silence. It was like the walls were holding secrets, keeping them locked away, only to be revealed when the time was right.
I couldn't stop the tears from welling in my eyes. I wiped them away hastily, angry at myself for feeling so weak in this moment. But how could I not? How could anyone stand in this room, surrounded by the echoes of things long past, and not feel the weight of it all? The clothes, the memories, the voices we'd lost—they all felt too much to carry. And still, I found myself wondering, what could have been?
I shook my head, trying to clear the thoughts, but the question clung to me. What if they had done things differently? What if we hadn't made the choices that led us here? Could we have saved Vander, saved the world we once knew? Could we have stopped Silco before he became one that is now no longer existing?
Jinx, meanwhile, had taken a seat in the old wooden chair, the one that seemed to have been forgotten like everything else in this room. She held the paper delicately, as if it might crumble to dust at her touch. She stared at it for a long moment, her brow furrowing, before she finally began to read aloud, her voice low and measured.
"Silco, I've looked everywhere but..it's clear you don't want to be found. God, I'm shit at this. I'm sorry. Once she died, I lost my head. I told myself what I did to you was for the greater good, that you deserved it. But the dirt was on both our hands. Anyway, you know where to find me. Blisters and Bedrock." -V
Once Jinx finished reading the letter, the weight of Vander's words seemed to hang in the air, thick and suffocating. Jinx's hands trembled as she placed the paper down, her eyes glazed over as she looked down at it one last time. It was as if she couldn't quite believe what she had just read, like the words themselves were pulling her deeper into a past that she couldn't escape from.
