The lamp in the workroom flickered again, its dying buzz the only thing filling the silence. The bulb had been going for weeks, but she liked it that way. The way it sputtered, twitched, cast shadows across the walls like ghosts dancing in slow motion. It made the room feel alive. Like her.

She sat on the cold floor, legs crossed, arms resting loosely in her lap. Everything around her was in disarray. Tools scattered. Empty bullet casings. Scorched wiring. A half-dismantled detonator sat at her feet, forgotten.

She wasn’t working. Not really. She was... talking. To no one.

Or maybe not no one.

Her gaze was locked on the far corner of the room. The dark part. The part the light never touched right. She could hear them there, whispers threading through her mind like smoke through cracks.

Jinx: “You don’t know them like I do.” she said suddenly, sharp and bitter. “their like you.”

Silence. But she heard the reply. Felt it slither into her ear. Her face twisted.

Jinx: “No. they dont lie. Not like you did.” Her fingers twitched against her knee. She clenched her jaw. “they doesn’t look at me like I’m a problem to fix. Like I’m some kind of bomb waiting to go off.”

The voice in her head laughed. A cruel, mocking thing. It reminded her of Silco’s stare. Of Vi’s silence after everything went wrong. Of every person who said they’d stay and then didn’t.

Jinx: “their not pulling away.” she spat. “I’d know. I’d see it. they...see me.” She stared harder at the corner. “their not gonna leave.”

Silence again. Heavier this time. Thick like oil in her lungs. But then she heard it again, clearer now. 'liar liar liar liar liar'.

Jinx: “Shut up!” she barked, lunging to her feet, kicking a wrench across the floor. It clanged, rolled, echoed.

The lamp buzzed harder. Her breathing was ragged now. Fingers knotted into her hair, pulling hard at the roots like maybe she could drag the voices out of her head if she just ripped hard enough. And then-

She folded, Back to the floor, arms wrapped tight around her knees, rocking slightly. Voice quieter. Brittle.

Jinx: “I don’t care what you say.” she whispered. “They aren't Vi. their not Silco. their not them.” Her fingers were trembling now, ink-stained nails digging into her arms.

Jinx “they stay.”