Vengeance

12

Seraphim staggers through the automatic doors. She hurls herself against the gruff stone wall, out of the way of the an elderly couple limping towards the entrance. She wraps a hand around her throat as the world around her spins out of control. Her long healed wounds flare to life. A metallic taste floods her mouth as fragments of that faithful night flash through her mind. Seraphim registers a wetness on her face and reaches up to wipe it away. She reluctantly looks down at the hand, half afraid to find it red, but its clear.

Seraphim runs her tongue over her chapped lips, lapping up the salt of her tears. Tears. She shuts her eyes, trying to clear the pounding in her head. She opens them and the world is still.

Yes, this is the present. I'm not there. I'm here. I'm safe. I'm whole. She repeats the phrases over and over in her mind until she can almost believe them.

As the frenzy in her mind and body ebbs away, exhaustion rises in its place. Sweat trickles down the side of her face and the back of her neck. Her limbs are heavy and ache as if she's been exercising.

Seraphim glances back at the hospital doors. Some part of her wants Jordan to walk out, to spot her, to say something that will make everything better, but she never comes. Why would she?

As Seraphim turns to walk away, her phone vibrates against her thigh. She reaches in her pocket and pulls it out. She accepts the call and presses the device to her ear, upon seeing Angel's name.

"Yeah?" She curses her hoarse voice.

"Are you alright?" Angel asks.

His concern spears Seraphim. She clears her throat and wipes away the remnants of her tears as if he can see her. "I'm fine. What is it?" She hopes Angel won't push. She fears if he does she'll break and tell him everything.

"I found Solaris."

Seraphim perks up. Solaris is the final one, the last piece of her revenge. She needs to finish this, maybe then she'll be able to get a peaceful night's sleep. Her grip on the phone tightens.

"Where?" Seraphim demands, a growl seeping into her voice.

"The Gallows."

The information shouldn't shock her, given what Jordan has shared, but it does. Solaris was once her friend and Seraphim blames that weakness for the sting she feels at the thought of Solaris living in the slums.

"Where in the Gallows?"

Angel recites the address. Seraphim hangs up and slips the phone in her pocket. She casts one last look back at the hospital doors before she turns and disappears into the sea of people.

***
Seraphim glares at the sky, willing night to hasten its approach. She took the subway home from the hospital and has had only her mind as company since. She attempted to pass the time by identifying the flaws in each of the apartment's few rooms.

The rim of the kitchen sink is covered in a white layer of grime. The linoleum is beginning to peel away from the wall. There are three scars in the countertop, and dollop of what appears to be nail polish that solidified and is now unremovable. One of the hinges on one of the lower kitchen doors is loose which causes the door to tremble when moved.

In the living room, the couch is a violation of a dozen or more health codes. She doesn't even want to know what half the stains could be. The wall socket, originally white, has blackened over time. The carpet is flat, a compacted collection of fibers that has endured years of spills and neglect. In some spots the paint has faded or assumed a shade from hands being repeated pressed against it, in others places the paint has begun flaking away. Seraphim spies a cobweb growing in one of the ceiling corners.