And either way you turn, Iβll be there, open up your skull, Iβll be thereβ¦
Silco was dead.
Regardless of how unaffected you tried to seem, how tough you wanted to feel, you couldnβt achieve either of those things.
Your dad was dead.
He was gone, completely and utterly gone. He wasnβt around to fix your problems, he wasnβt around to make everything okay again. As soon as he had dipped out, the world had flipped over.
All you had left was Sevika. The woman who you had called an ogre when you were littler, the woman who had been your dadβs right hand man. And even though you had both treated each other horribly in the past, you both needed each others comfort desperately.
You had been hiding out in Silcoβs office for a few days now. But everywhere you looked, you were reminded of him. His cigars, never to be smoked again, the ashtray you had given him, covered in your scribbles, drawings you had made him that he had kept. The chair he sat in, the window he looked out of.
Everything was painfully linked to him. And it was impossible to escape.
So in his chair you sat, curled up in his coat, the bloodstains still there, because you couldnβt bear the thought of washing it.
The door was flung open, slamming into the wall, and in walked Sevika. Her short hair was a mess, her face caught in a scowl.
βHeβs dead and Iβm still mopping up his messes,β Sevika snarled, her cold eyes landing on you wrapped in her bossβ coat, and her harsh gaze weakened slightly. βThe hell are we supposed to do now?β