Not the Hero, Not the Villain — Just the One Who Wins

She stood in front of me, trembling—not with anger, but something worse.

"Where... where were you?" my sister whispered, eyes glossy with tears. "Do you have any idea what Mom’s been going through? What happened to us after you—"

I cut her off cold.

"You’ve got the wrong person," I said, eyes narrowed. "I don’t have a mom."

Her face shattered like glass under a hammer. Then—SMACK.

Her palm collided with my cheek, but the pain didn’t register. Her sobbing voice did.

"Why are you doing this?! Why are you pretending?! You’re Ashen Crimson! You’re—"

"I said," I growled, grabbing her wrists and peeling her fingers off my collar, "it’s none of your business anymore."

Her tears fell harder, but I didn’t stop.

"I’m done with this shit. I don’t need your petty sympathy. I’m not the weak, naive, bullied Ashen Crimson you remember. That version of me is dead."

I stepped back, releasing a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.