The Sixth | Ekko

Chapter Twenty-Five

Six watched as numerous emotions crossed Ekko's face while he attempted to process what she told him. Everything that he read in the folder—all the experiments—had been performed on her.

"I—"

He didn't know what to say. What could he say?

"Don't start feeling sorry now," Six said, voice like death. "You made some good points, after all."

Ekko shook his head urgently and moved to sit on the floor in front of her.

"No—No, I was wrong. I was just trying to..."

Hurt you.

He didn't have to finish the sentence for Six to know what he was going to say.

She noticed his jaw clench as he struggled internally. She was sure that if she could feel anything right now, seeing him like this would have been satisfying.

"I—I didn't know," he defended, eyes astray. Holding eye contact with her now would be too difficult.

"You're right, you didn't," she said, "Not that you didn't have the opportunity to find out though."

His eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.

She leaned forward slightly, her gaze grabbing a hold of his and demanding it to stay put.

"Our deal. You teach me how to invent and I answer your questions in return. Or did you forget?"

He leaned back as she got closer to him, and he had to place a hand on the floor behind him to stop from stumbling.

"Well, I—"

"You could've asked what happened to me or where I'd been, but instead your questions were to learn more about Jinx."

He went quiet. She was right. Even if he hadn't realized it until now, he'd neglected to ask anything about her whereabouts of the last decade. And as a result, he tried to hurt her and accused her of committing the atrocities that she herself had fallen victim to.

"I'm sorry."

She looked between each of his eyes. There was regret there, she could see it. But she didn't care.

"Untie me," she demanded, raising her wrists up between them.

Wordlessly, he complied. His gloves fingers nipped at the rope, tugging on it and loosening the knot. As he did so, his gaze drifted to her missing pinky, causing his actions to faulter. He couldn't even begin to imagine the pain she must've suffered through.

"Hurry up," she urged, noticing what was distracting him.

He pressed his eyes closed, dipping his head, his dreadlocks kissing at his eyebrows.

She stared at Jinx's bullets that decorated one of them—the same bullets she plucked from his body with hands so shaky she was scared she might damage him further. Bullets that dripped with his blood as she held them up to ensure no bits of them had chipped off and gotten lost in the wound. The bullets that might as well have shot Claret instead.

Even after everything, it would always be her. Powder—Jinx—remained his focal point in life and death. It didn't matter what happened between them in the past. Didn't matter that she shot him. Didn't matter that she almost killed him, or that she killed multiple of his friends. The blue-haired girl had imprinted herself in his very person, intertwined in his DNA. It made her sick.

"Momo I—"

"Shut up," she snapped, despite the sincerity in his voice and face. He didn't get to apologize to her. He didn't deserve to feel a single speck of relief from the guilt he felt.