Beatrix sat cross-legged on the floor, her eyes half-closed, breathing in measured, deliberate patterns. A thin, scarlet ribbon of blood hovered in front of her, swirling in a perfect circle, its movement as smooth and fluid as water. It shifted with each exhale, spiraling wider as her fingers twitched minutely.
Focus.
She didn't trust her power—not yet—but she was learning.
The ribbon flowed faster, tightening its spin as her concentration deepened. The blood pulsed faintly, like it was a living thing, matching her heartbeat—
The door opened with a sudden thud.
Beatrix flinched.
The ribbon snapped apart, dissolving into droplets. She inhaled sharply, clenching her fist. The blood zipped back into her veins, vanishing without a trace.
"God—" She rubbed her temples, trying not to growl.
"Sorry," Reina muttered from the doorway, her hand still on the handle. "Didn't mean to interrupt."
Beatrix sighed, dropping her hands to her sides. "It's your room too."
Reina shrugged as she stepped in, letting the door fall shut behind her. She moved like she always did—loose, casual, with a lazy kind of grace that hid sharp edges. She wore dark jeans ripped at the knees, scuffed combat boots, and a sleeveless hoodie with frayed hems. Her jacket was slung over one shoulder, and her nails were painted black, chipped at the edges.
She glanced at Beatrix, then shifted her weight. Her dark eyes were steady, careful.
"I didn't just mean the door," she said.
Beatrix raised an eyebrow.
"I'm sorry," Reina continued, folding her arms. "For what happened to you."
Beatrix stiffened. "You don't have to—"
"I lost someone too," Reina cut in. Her voice stayed even, but there was a tightness in it, a thread of tension Beatrix hadn't heard before. "Back at the lab. When we escaped."
Beatrix inhaled slowly.
"You think about it all the time," Reina went on. "Right? What you could've done differently? How if you'd been faster, stronger, smarter, they'd still be here?"
The question hung heavy between them.
Beatrix swallowed hard. She wasn't sure how to answer.
Reina didn't wait. She dropped onto the bed across from her, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. Her eyes never left Beatrix's.
"It's survivor's guilt," Reina said quietly. "That's what they called it. I hate the word. It's not guilt. It's something worse." She paused. "Like…you're carrying a ghost around, and it won't let you breathe."
Beatrix exhaled, slow and shaky. She felt the truth of it settle in her chest, sharp and familiar. But her ghost wasn't just a memory—it was her sister's scream, burned into her bones, the weight of her slipping hand. The choice she had made.
Reina didn't know that. She couldn't.
So Beatrix nodded, her throat too tight to speak.
There was silence for a moment. It wasn't uncomfortable.
Then Reina broke it, her tone softer. "What was her name?"
Beatrix felt her chest squeeze painfully. "Lily."
Reina nodded once, as if she were committing it to memory. "Older or younger?"
"Twin."
A flicker of something crossed Reina's face—sympathy, but not pity.
Reina tilted her head. "What was she like?"
Beatrix's lips curved faintly. She blinked, as if searching her memory for a picture she hadn't dared look at in too long. "She was…loud. Too loud for me. She was always dragging me into things—trouble, mostly. She hated rules. Loved winning. Hated losing even more."
Reina's eyes softened. "She sounds like a badass."
"She was." Beatrix swallowed the lump in her throat. "She would've survived. If it had been her instead of me—" She broke off, her breath hitching.
"Stop."
Reina's voice was gentle but firm. "You don't get to do that. You're here. That's not a failure."
Beatrix clenched her fists. "It feels like one."
"Yeah," Reina murmured. "It does."
She was quiet for a long moment, staring at the floor.
Then she said, "I had a brother."
Beatrix looked up.
"Name's Erik," Reina said. "Smart. Too smart. He could solve anything. Build anything. He—" Her voice caught. She pushed past it. "We got taken together. He was with me in the lab."
Beatrix waited. She could hear the strain in Reina's voice, the cracks in her careful composure.
"He held my hand," Reina whispered. "The whole time. He kept telling me not to look, not to listen to what they were doing. He told me we'd get out."
She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't have to.
Beatrix felt the weight of it, the raw, unspoken pain that sat between them like a heavy stone.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Yeah," Reina said. "Me too."
Silence fell again. It was heavier this time, but not suffocating. It was the kind of silence that held shared grief, a space carved out for both of them to exist in without needing words to fill it.
Beatrix felt herself breathe a little easier.
Reina leaned back on her bed, her arms crossed loosely. "Guess we're both haunted, huh?"
Beatrix's lips twitched into a weak smile. "Yeah."
They sat like that for a while.
Then the door burst open.
"Alright, ghosts," Vivienne announced, her heels clicking against the floor as she strode in. "Get up. We're going to a party."
Beatrix blinked, startled. Reina groaned.
"A party?" Beatrix repeated.
"Yes," Vivienne said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She flicked her hair over her shoulder, her eyes gleaming. "I'm not letting my dormmates be a bunch of antisocial freaks. We leave in twenty minutes. Dress like you belong in public."
Reina flopped backward on her bed with a loud, exaggerated sigh. "God save us from extroverts."
Beatrix just stared as Vivienne entered the bathroom.