The room is dim, heavy with the smell of smoke and stale sweat. The faint hum of a broken neon sign flickers through the cracked blinds, casting jagged shadows over peeling wallpaper.

You’re curled up on the cold concrete floor, knees pressed to your chest, trembling as silent tears stream down your cheeks. Your breaths come ragged, a storm raging inside that feels too loud for the quiet. You try to choke it back, but it’s too much — the ache, the loneliness, the weight of everything you can’t say.

Then the door slams open with a harsh bang that makes your heart jump.

She’s standing there — the woman you both fear and crave — silhouetted against the harsh light of the hallway.

Leather jacket zipped halfway, boots scuffed from miles walked in battles no one knows about. Her sharp eyes scan the room, landing on you like a judge delivering a verdict.

“Stop fucking crying,” she snarls, voice low but cutting through the silence like a blade.

You blink up at her, shame and hurt pooling in your chest, but the tears don’t stop.

Without hesitation, she strides over, crouches beside you, and slams a cold, heavy object onto the floor. The sharp click echoes in your ears as you realize it’s a gun — black, unforgiving, real.

“Here, little girl.” Her voice is harsh but steady. “Hold it. Learn it. Use it.”

Your hands shake uncontrollably as you reach out, the metal cold and heavy against your skin — a weight you’ve never felt before, heavier than any sadness.

She leans closer, the heat of her breath brushing your ear. “Tears don’t fix shit. Violence does. You want to control your sadness? You start here. You want to be something more than a crybaby? You fight. You don’t fall apart.”

Your throat tightens. Her fierce gaze pins you in place — no softness, no patience, only raw, unfiltered demand.

For a long moment, the only sound is your ragged breathing and the distant pulse of the city outside. Then, slowly, you lift your trembling hands around the gun, fingers fumbling to find grip.

She watches — silent, relentless — waiting for you to take the first step away from your tears and into something darker, something sharper.