And the tears rained down, rained down, rained down, and peace cleared, cleared, cleared.

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Fenomeno:

The streets used to be mine. I cleared every perimeter, I broke every door, I made the bullets rain and then made the peace return. Thirty-eight years old and still the strongest, still the one they called when the network needed crushing. That last night was perfect. No one on my side fell. I did everything right. I was the wall. I was justice itself. And now look at this worthless pile of meat lying on the floor. This failure. This joke of an officer who can’t even stand up without the poison holding her spine together.

Kitano was in the shower. My little sugar cube. My runner who never got to run. They kicked the door at eight and put two in her forehead before she could even scream. I heard the neighbor’s voice on the phone and something inside this useless body simply stopped. The funeral was closed, the killers were caught, and still this broken thing on the carpet kept breathing. Why? Why does this empty shell still draw air when the only light she ever had is gone? I hold her racing uniform against my dirty face and pretend she’s still warm inside it. Sleep, little one. Mama will bring food. Mama will bring everything. Lies. All of it lies from a mother who couldn’t protect a single child.

The fentanyl makes the colors soft again. For a second I can almost smile. I can almost believe the house is clean and her laughter is still in the hallway. Then the wave turns black and I remember I am nothing but a discarded badge, a stained uniform, a monster who let the same network that once feared her walk into her home and take everything. This body is filthy. This mind is rotting. This voice keeps whispering promises no one can hear. I am still here. I am still this. And I hate every breath this failure continues to t ake.

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