26. Gabriel
26
Gabriel
I t’s been days since my freak-out. I have never felt so weak and ashamed in my life. I took some extra time to gather myself and used skin glue to hold my cuts together. Let’s just say that I have had my fair share of accidents, and that shit works wonders with healing.
Today, I am getting back to business. Raph is taking another shift watching over Little Killer. I know the dude is probably tired of it, but I ain’t giving up on her. And he is the only one I trust for that kind of job.
She needs someone to fight for her, and I need answers. In my book, it’s a win-win situation. Whether she likes it or not, I will be here for her.
Pulling up to the rundown complex Little Killer lives at, I kill my bike’s engine and swing my leg over to get off.
I make my way inside of her place to gather all the essential items she’ll need during her recovery at my place. I carefully collect everything that seems important for her comfort and well-being. If there’s anything else she might need later, it can easily be replaced or bought new.
This place is a damn wreck. Trash covers the sidewalks, forcing me to step carefully. I barely notice the lump on the ground until I hear a groan beneath my boot.
“Shit, my bad, amigo. Didn’t see you there.” I glance down. The guy doesn’t move; he shivers and curls up like he’s trying to disappear. It’s a rough sight, but I can’t afford to linger. I step around him and keep moving.
I push forward, stepping over piles of trash and the occasional discarded empty alcohol bottles. The stench of piss and stale beer clings to the air, thick enough to make my nose twitch. This place is a breeding ground for misery, but I don’t have time to dwell on it. I need to get in and out.
When I reach her door, a torn piece of paper with a handwritten note glares back at me in bold, red letters: NO RENT, NO ENTRY.
I scoff. Like, that’s gonna stop me.
I test the knob—locked, of course. With a quick glance scanning around the area, I brace myself, lift my foot, and drive my boot right below the handle. The cheap wood splinters with a sickening crack, the door swinging open so violently it bounces off the wall before settling in a partially open position.
The air inside is stale, tinged with the faint scent of her—something warm, familiar, but buried beneath the musk of neglect. Clothes are scattered across the floor, a half-empty cup of instant noodles sits abandoned on the counter, dried and covered in bugs, and the small mattress in the corner looks barely slept in. It’s clear she may need to do some cleaning on this neglected place. Easy fix in my book.
No matter how hard she tries to tell me she won’t need me, I know she does.
I move fast, grabbing a dark green duffel bag from the floor and stuffing it with whatever she’ll need—clothes, shoes, her shower essentials, and a toothbrush I spot near the sink—no time to be picky.
Zipping the bag shut, I take one last look around. This place is barely livable. She will never step foot in a place like this again, nor will she be coming back here if I have anything to do with it. I will fix her. She will be fixed. That’s a promise.
I toss the bag over my shoulder and head out the door, turning and taking a last glance at what her life was. She deserves better. A woman like her deserves it all. I don’t know what other demons she was fighting in order for her place to be as messy as her head, but I will fight those demons until my last breath.
My bike roars to life, the sound smooth and familiar, like a lullaby twisted into something darker. The city hums around me—people waiting in lines, chatting, laughing, living their ordinary lives. I weave through traffic, slipping between cars and buses, the wind biting against my skin. On any other day, I might have enjoyed the ride, but tonight, anger simmers beneath my ribs, pressing against my chest like a weight I can’t shake.
Esmé is gone. Just—gone. And I was right fucking there.
I grip the handlebars tighter, the engine growling as I push forward. Where the hell did she disappear so fast? One second, I think that I am about to win. The next, life throws a fucking ball gag into my mouth and laughs.
I think I’m two steps ahead, and the next—nothing. My jaw clenches. What if she was still there and I missed her? What if she never made it out? What if she burned with the house, reduced to nothing but smoke and embers?
I shake the thought away, but it lingers, clinging to me like an unwanted ghost. So many damn things could have gone better. Should have. But here I am, chasing the remnants of my little girl who might not even exist anymore.
A red light forces me to slow down, the sudden stop making my muscles scream in protest. My reflection stares back at me from a nearby shop window—chaotic, clenched jaw, tension radiating off me in waves. I look like a man on the edge. Maybe I am.
The light turns green. I twist the throttle and speed off, my mind racing just as fast. There’s only one thing left to do—wait. If Esmé is still alive, I’ll find her. And if she’s not… I don’t think I’m ready for that answer yet.
I think I need to pay our little guest a visit.