*BRAVO. THE SILENCE DIDN’T WORK. THE DEBT DIDN’T WORK. THE FIRE DIDN’T WORK. BUT LET’S SEE HOW YOU HANDLE THIS. -THE AUDIENCE*
The clapping didn’t stop.
Slow. Measured. Like someone watching a play and deciding if it was worth the ticket.
Sinner was still out cold on the floor. Blood dried under his nose. Chest rising. Alive. Lily slept with her hand in his. Hope fussed in my arms, gold light flickering like he could feel the eyes on us.
Rivera drew her gun. Useless, but she did it anyway. “Show yourself.”
The walls thinned. Became glass. And beyond the glass: seats. Hundreds of them. Thousands. A theater.
And in every seat: a version of us.
The Angel who walked away. The Sinner who pulled the trigger. The Hope who never glowed. The Lily who never drew. The ghosts from the marg
