Red was sitting on the floor, his long legs bent, pretzelled in his arms, his sharp chin resting on one of his knees. His jaw was sore from clenching his teeth. He had thought that finding her would make it better. It hadn't.

About a foot from his face, Sabrina was passed out on his couch, wrapped tightly in his blankets. He elevated her swollen foot after removing an inch long shard of glass from her heel. As he stared at her sleeping face, a flash of how she looked when he found her appeared to him, and sent an electric ripple of darts up his spine.

Red found Sabrina on the south side of town, well off the main road. He had followed a trail of tiny dots of blood to a back alleyway, fearing the worst. He had almost walked past her, but the fuzzy orange industrial light was shining off her bright white hair on the ground. He pulled the damp boxes that lined the alley away, and found her there, sprawled out on the ground. She was covered in the grime of the city, and her bare feet were caked with dust and dirt. Her arms were tightly clasped around a cloth bag on her chest, and he was relieved to see it slowly move up and down with her strained breaths. There were tiny splatters of blackened blood dried to her face and hands, and her heel was still dripping. But she was alive.

Red was scared to touch her at first, fearing he would somehow injure her further if he tried to move her in any way. It took him a couple of long seconds, and a couple of slaps to his own face, before he gained the courage to lift her up into his arms.

When Red finally brought Sabrina inside, he started by cleaning her off with a warm cloth, and inspected her for injuries. As he wiped away the speckled blood on her sleeping face, then hands, then arms, he paused.

This isn't her blood.

Red had to stop every so often as he cleaned her off to compose himself. Could this delicate little body, these fragile, thin hands, have murdered someone? Where had she been? What had she done? The only injury Red found was on her heel from a broken lens, maybe even broken by her when a victim was trying to call for help.

Red shook his head.

No.

No. This body may have done horrible things, but somewhere, locked away underneath the white-blonde tangled locks, was Sabrina - trapped within a body she did not control.

He watched her asleep on his couch, anticipating who she might be when she woke up.

Why isn't she waking up? Red's mind started to race. Was it because of the injury? Did her body just finally give out?

His eyes wandered over to the floor where the cloth bag she had clasped so tightly was leaning against the white Sage cube. He carefully pulled it open, his eyes racing through its contents, and his heart started beating in his head.

The bag was packed tight with what seemed to be medical supplies. It was filled with tiny vials and needles. He picked up one of the tiny plastic containers. It was a powerful sedative. He recognized them from the days before he started sticking to Sage. He had friends who were hooked, and several had overdosed. The right amount would put you to sleep - just a bit more and you wouldn't wake up.

Visitor!

His door was chiming in alert. He jumped up in surprise, almost dropping the tiny vial, but catching it before it hit the floor. He looked back at the door screen to see Ami standing there, looking around anxiously. He almost forgot that he had messaged earlier.

Red waved his wrist around, and the door hissed open when the sensor recognized his ID chip. He stepped to the side, allowing Ami through, greeting her with a stiff and silent nod.

He was pacing now, despite himself, with the tiny vial was tight in his sweating palm. He looked back at Ami.

Ami was now standing over Sabrina, frozen and staring at her sleeping face. Red took the opportunity to grab Ami's hand, and slap the tiny vial into her palm. It seemed to snap her out of it.

"I think she took this. Her bag was full of them," Red said as he kicked the bag, spilling its contents rolling over the floor. He felt his jaw tighten again.

Ami took the vial and examined it closely, rolling the label as she read. She then knelt down and picked up one of the many capped needles scattered on the ground. Red watched her slowly look up, the color drained from her already pale face.

"Red, these aren't for her."

"What?"

"Red..." Ami started again, slowly standing up and meeting his eyes, "Have you seen any of the news? The screens were plastered with it downtown-"

But before she could finish, Red was at his computer. He pulled up the footage from the few news sites he trusted, then sat back, trying to understand what he was seeing.

A live camera feed from a shaky lens filled the screen. There were HoloGuards blocking off the street, shoving people back into a growing crowd. There were shouts and violent shrieks as the onlookers caught glimpses of the blocked roadway. The lens-wearing cameraman was hyperventilating as he pushed aside the weeping and broken crowd. There was a young woman trying to claw her way through the HoloGuards, her red tear-streaked face screamed a man's name, over and over. The guard would push her down, shouting at her to get back, but she got back up a second time. The woman covered her head with her now scraped and bloodied arms, and barrelled through two of the HoloGuards, creating a temporary gap in the wall. The cameraman took the opportunity and rushed through behind her.

The shaky camera sprinted forward for a moment, close behind the woman, before watching her collapse to the pavement, wailing on the ground. The cameraman watched her for a moment, his hand reaching out to comfort her, before he looked up at the street before him.

Bodies. There must have been hundreds. Limp grey bodies filled the street, young and old. Suddenly, there was a grunt, and the cameraman was shoved to the ground. A HoloGuard must have caught up to him, tackling him from behind. The lens must have cracked on impact, since the screen split into glitchy shards before finally cutting out.

Red rewound the footage to a still frame of the street. The bodies were scattered, like leaflets on the asphalt. Their eyes were all shut, expressions serene. There was a young couple, half embracing, but the woman's arm was folded awkwardly below her, collapsing inward from the sudden weight of her body. There was an old man, his palms stretched forward, his chin painfully stretched forward on the rough ground. He had tried to fight it, the sudden numbness of his limbs, but had failed.

Their faces, eyes shut and unmoving, peaceful in a sleep they would never wake from, and Red's head began to pound.

Ba-dum.

Ba-dum.

Not Sabrina.

There was a hand on his shoulder, and he nearly jumped out of his chair. He looked up to see Ami, her eyes wide and brows knitted together. She was saying something, but Red couldn't hear her over the ringing in his ears.

"What?" said Red. His sweating hands were gripping the edge of his desk tight.

"She's waking up," Ami whispered again. She pulled back her hand and crossed her arms across her chest.

Red turned the screen off, but when he closed his eyes, he still saw the grey faces contorted on the pavement. He wanted so desperately to Sage, to not exist within this moment. He wanted to grab a full canister, head out the door, and return when all of this was over. He wanted to roam the streets of the entertainment district, a stupid smile plastered on his face, and sail on the sweetest smoke until he forgot his own name.

But he couldn't.

Because right now there was a girl on his couch, waking up to a life she didn't choose, forced to deal with consequences she didn't know she had to take. A girl with bright, glossy eyes who wanted to escape more than he did. But she was stuck. She could Sage all she could, and she did, but no matter how far she ran, the monster would still be waiting for her.

Red wanted to run with her.

"Red?" Ami whispered.

"We can't tell her. If she doesn't know, don't tell her." Red stood up from his desk. He rubbed his palms on his temples then grabbed a small bag from his desk drawer. "Keep her busy. There's food in the fridge if she's hungry. I'll be back."

"Wait, where are you going?" Ami called from the doorway. She looked concerned, maybe even angry, but it was hard to tell. Her expression then turned desperate. She was scared.

"Relax. I'm not going to tell on you," said Red, as he opened the front door to his pod. The door hissed open, and he turned back to Ami. "I'm just going to fix her door. Set it up like yours."

Ami nodded, and Red watched the door hiss close in front of him.

He stood in the hall, staring down the long winding corridor in front of him. He couldn't do much, but at least he could do this one thing for her. His steps felt heavy in the hall as he made his way to the elevator. Fixing her door would be easy, but it felt like only a Band-Aid on a bullet wound. Every time his mind started reaching for his next move, he shook it off with a jerk.

No.

Focus on what needs to be done now, what can be done now. Fix the door. Fix the door.

He rubbed his hands harder against his temples, shutting his eyes tight.

Why won't the ringing stop?

"Red."

He opened his eyes. It was Cil, standing in front of the elevator doors. Her eyes were puffy, like she had been crying. In the entire time that Red had known Cil, she had never cried.

"What are you-"

"It was her. You know it was her," shouted Cil. Her voice cracked as it echoed down the winding halls. Red winced with pain, as the noise sent further shards into his already ringing ears. "Red, she's a murderer. Faceless or not."

"Cil. It's not like she-"

"It's not like she what? Did it on purpose? Just an accidental 100 people dead? It's probably even more than that. She's dangerous. They both are."

"It's not their fault. They didn't have a choice," Red heard himself say.

Everything was muffled, like he was underwater. The ringing was louder now.

"It doesn't matter." Cil's eyes grew fiery, and Red watched as her hands turned into fists. "You barely know them Red. You barely know her... I'm reporting them to N."

N.

"Sure, report them to an actual murderer. Have you even been on the North side yet?"

"Have you seen the South?" Cil shot back. "After all this time of hiding, running away, and this is the stance you're taking?" Cil was shaking now, her back against the elevator doors. "I picked you up off the street, asleep in your own vomit on the East side -" Cil stopped to collect herself. Her eyes were watering now, and locked onto the bright ceiling lights above him. "She's going to kill you, Red."

"That's not fair." The ringing had reached a high-pitched shriek, and needles pinched through his ear canals.

"I'm not going to let you die, Red. You've gotten too close too many times," said Cil. Her voice seemed softer now, and Red watched her turn to the elevators, raising her wrist to open the doors. She didn't turn back as she entered, and the doors quietly hissed shut behind her.

She was going to tell N about Sabrina and Ami, and Red knew there was nothing he could say to change her mind. Why did she even come up here in the first place? To convince herself further that he was a lost cause?

I picked you up off the street, asleep in your own vomit on the East side.

As if Red had forgotten.

The ringing in his head shot through him in shrill screams.

"Shut up!" he screamed back.

And Red watched himself throw his fist into the glass wall that lined the slim hallway. The crack ricocheted in a warbling creak through the passageway behind him, and Red felt his stomach flip as the floor shook. The sound rippled through the long halls and Red slowly crouched to the ground to steady himself. The crackling finally stopped with a rumbling snap.

When he felt brave enough, Red looked up to the windowed wall. The winding crack traced through the foggy skyline, a white line, reflecting the small amount of sunlight, between the hazy buildings and clouds. But the window did not break, and the winding Roe hallway, delicately suspended 60 or so stories in the sky, did not drop, and Red did not fall to his death.

It was only then that the ringing stopped.