“Avery?”

  A voice called out to me, friendly and concerned. I found myself sweeping a familiar floor, going through familiar motions. I looked up to see Aisha’s concerned eyes looking back at me from behind the counter. I took a moment to reorient myself: the light outside suggested evening, supported by the minimal amount of customers. It was Aisha, Laura, and I working, with Ms. Plantera doing whatever management she does in the back. Maybe it was close to closing? I wasn’t sure; I wasn’t even sure what day it was anymore.

  “Hi Aisha. What can I do for you?” I responded, as cheerfully as I could.

  “Nothing, nothing, it’s just… you’ve been coming in for the last three days and haven’t said anything to anyone this entire time. Was just wondering if you were okay,” she said. I listened to her heart rate; she was calm and honest. But I wasn’t.

  “... Have you ever felt so broken that it hurts to breathe?” I somberly asked, within earshot of customers and everyone in the store. Aisha’s face turned to shock. Before she could say anything, I walked into the back of the cafe, took off my apron and put away my things, before making my way to the door. I think Ms. Plantera heard me in the back, because she came out and stopped me.

  “Your shift isn’t over for another hour, Avery! Where do you think you’re going?” she asked with a haughty impertinence, the same sickening derision that she treated me with ever since I became the person that I wanted to be. I saw Aisha in the doorway behind her, a sympathetic look on her face, waving her hands as if that would somehow deescalate the situation.

  “I feel ill, Ms. I was going to go home,” I responded, a robotic apathy to my voice.

  “You didn’t even think to speak to me first?” she asked, indignant and angry with her derelict worker.

  “No, I didn’t. I just wanted to go home.”

  “You know, I’ve been putting up with a lot from you Avery, with your lackluster performance as a barista, and your sudden transformation, with NO warning by the way, and now you just phone it in at work and leave whenever you want? I’m sorry Avery, but you’ve been slipping, and–”

  “Shut the fuck up.” The words left my mouth with a snarl, and I could feel my mind enter a heightened state of awareness.

  “Excuse me?” she said incredulously, “You have no right to speak to me that–”

  “Listen to me you little bitch. I’ve been a faithful worker here since I moved here. I was your best barista, you dumb shit. I have laws that protect my transition. And now, with my life literally falling apart, you choose to fire me instead of meet me halfway. So I’m done here. You are a horrible boss, and though I don’t know what kind of person you are outside of here, I don’t really care to. I’d rather be homeless than listen to another lecture from you.”

  I walked past her, and stopped in front of Aisha. “I’m still your friend. I’ll message you later,” I whispered as I walked by. I turned around to look at the cafe, the cortisol pulsing through me. Memories kept flashing through me, violence after violence, the Siphoner, the Lonely Hearts Club, fights after fights. I needed that release right now, something to hurt; but then I remembered the feeling, sitting in my apartment, knowing I was just like Aera deep inside.

  I had developed this concept in my head, this concept called a Ruiner. If there were Champions, people who saved the world and did the right thing, there were Ruiners, people who made things worse no matter what they did. They were parasitic, poisonous, and venomous. I wanted to be a Champion, and I thought I was. Aera was a Ruiner; it was ironic that she was targeted by the Siphoner, since she was a siphoner of her own, leeching off of me for sustenance and stability. But what was I? I have Silaqui now, and I want to do the right thing, but does that make me a Champion? Does a Champion have this much hate in them? Does a Champion need this much help? Does a Champion want this much violence? The only conclusion I could come to was no. The only answer was that I was a Ruiner myself.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  I looked at my phone, and saw some missed calls from Silaqui. My heart felt hollow; my first real love, and I felt light years away from her. I found myself walking towards the apothecary, but stopped; what if I weren’t welcome anymore? I felt the sin eating at my spine, and even though she didn’t know, I had a deep, unseated fear she would hate me for it. More realistically, I was a Ruiner, and I didn’t want to leech off of her. I thought about getting a therapist, but now, without a job, I was probably going to be homeless by the end of the month. I was ruined any way this went. But my heart yearned for violence or connection, and… I had already chosen violence once, and it had wounded me deeply.

  I found myself at the apothecary, hesitantly opening the door. I saw no one at the counter, and no one in the store; I double-checked the open sign, and it was lit with a blue and pink glow. So I went inside, and rang the bell, before sitting with my back to the counter, awaiting the horror of whatever conversation was coming my way. I waited for ten minutes before I saw Silaqui run in the front door, a loud chime ringing and the cool winter air flowing in. I stood up when she entered, and before I could do anything, she wrapped her arms around me. I could hear a soft sob in her breath, and a shakiness in her shoulders. I hesitantly put my arms around her, and I became aware that I could feel her warmth.

  I began sobbing, softly at first, but then the shivers became uncontrollable, and I began to scream, falling to my knees and clutching madly at her back, desperate to cling to anything that would keep me from being sucked into the vortex that was my despair and agony. Eventually, I succumbed to the pull, and I fell to the floor, weeping in the fetal position. I stayed like this for a while, with Silaqui turning off the store’s “open” sign and consoling me throughout. I finally gathered myself from the pieces I had fallen into, and sat back up, avoiding making eye contact while cleaning the mess from my face.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t seen you in a while,” I choked out, looking to the floor. “I’m… I’m evil, Silaqui. I can’t be around anymore. I can’t be anywhere. I want to be your Champion so badly. I want to be good enough. But I tried to stop something bad from happening, and I ended up being even worse. They were just kids to me, Silaqui, just like you said. They had guns and knives, and they were hurting Folk, but I could’ve held back!” I started feeling hysterical, as if a rabbit was trying to break free from my abdomen. “I could’ve just stopped them, but I’m evil! I saw that suffering, and I only wanted blood… And I got it. I bled them all dry.” Silaqui stood up, and walked behind her counter.

  “I drank their leader’s Vanta, and a part of me enjoyed it, but I let them live so they could turn themselves in and help the police take down their gang. I know that isn’t enough to atone for what I did, but I’m so sorry. The truth is, I feel miserable. I just lost my job, and the only things I have are you and school, and I need you. I don’t want to lose you, please.” I looked down at my trembling hands, and suddenly a small kumi-dashi was placed into my right hand, filled with a delicate herbal scented tea. I looked up to meet Silaqui’s eyes, and she was smiling down at me. My heart felt like it stopped in my chest; how could she possibly be smiling right now? I felt the tears begin to start again, looking up at her elegant face, transcendent and soothing, and I felt this existential terror towards the devil in me be soothed by the calming moonlight of her gaze. I stood up with my drink, making sure to drink in this sight.

  “Are you done?” she asked, with a sassy tone to her voice. I swallowed hard, and nodded. “Well, I heard about a group of gangsters getting hit, and some sirens being saved, and knew it was you. When I heard about the violence of it, I wondered what could have caused you to become so violent; I thought maybe you had accidentally gotten handsy with some Vanta. But now?” She held my loose hand, and I felt the warmth of her fingers grace me. “I think you’ve got Vanta of your own. Your own personal darkness. I think you are a killer at heart, Avery. I think you’ve been natured and nurtured into being the type that responds to trespass with anger, and to injustice with extreme violence.”

  I was stunned, unable to respond. I could feel my heart sink in my chest; she knew my evils. There was nothing else I could do. My disgusting parts were bare to see, and she seemed so calm about it, like…

  “Is it okay?” I asked, a tremble in my voice I didn’t know I could make. “Am I… Broken?”

  “No, Avery. You aren’t broken.” She tightened her grip on my hand, and her eyes flicked up to mine. “You are everything I want you to be.”