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Days passed, and Anne slowly adjusted to the reality of living in Hell. She wasn’t completely numb to the idea of humans being killed—far from it—but at least she no longer froze in terror every time the topic came up.
Training with the I.M.P gang helped. Her agility and speed, honed through years of tennis and Muay Thai, impressed them so much that Blitz made her I.M.P’s official intern and combat apprentice.
For her first day on the job, she dressed the part: a sleek black blazer, a crisp white collared shirt, fitted black pants, and polished slate-gray dress shoes. She looked sharp, ready to take on anything.
Except, with Stolas still in possession of the grimoire, there were no assassination jobs to tag along on. So instead, Anne’s main responsibilities involved making coffee, serving food, and running errands for the team.
She didn’t mind. Keeping busy helped keep her thoughts away from the gnawing ache of missing her family and friends.
But some nights, no matter how much she tried to distract herself, the loneliness crept in.
That night, she lay in her purple and ombre blue sleeping bag a few feet from Blitz’s couch, tossing and turning. The bag was one of the few things she had treated herself to from Stylish Occult during her birthday celebration, yet even the soft fabric didn’t help her sleep.
With a sigh, she sat up, rolled up her sleeping bag, and placed it atop her backpack near the bottom left of the TV. Careful not to wake Loona, she tiptoed through the apartment and slipped out onto the fire escape.
A cool breeze greeted her as she leaned on the railing, arms resting on the metal. Her hair swayed slightly in the wind as she gazed at the cityscape—Hell’s neon glow casting shadows against the crimson sky.
A voice from behind broke the silence.
"Can’t sleep, kid?"
Anne turned to see Blitz approaching, still in his usual work clothes.
"Blitz? How’d you know I’d be here?"
He shrugged. "Just got back from a late-night stroll and saw you out here. Besides, this ain’t the first time I’ve caught you sneaking off to the fire escape." His expression softened. "Figured I’d finally ask."
Anne hesitated. She knew he could see right through her.
"Something’s bothering you, huh?" he pressed. "And don’t even try to lie—I’ll know."
Anne exhaled sharply. "Fine. I’m homesick. And I’m worried about my friends, okay? I can’t help it!"
She clenched her fists, voice growing strained.
"I mean, Sasha’s probably fine—she’s the tough one. But Marcy? She’s… different. Back home, I always protected her. I defended her. And now? I can’t even be there for her! If something bad happens to her, it’ll be my fault! I’d never forgive myself."
Blitz’s grin faded.
The words "hate myself" echoed in his head, dragging up memories he’d rather forget. Green flames, screaming imps—things he shoved deep down, never to be spoken of.
He pushed them away. Instead, he reached out, giving Anne a reassuring pat on the back.
"Look, kid, I get it. You care about your friend, and you wanna be there for her. But maybe—just maybe—she’s learning to stand on her own. People change. You gotta have some faith in her."
Anne sniffled, a small smile forming. "Yeah… she is the smart one." She wiped away a stray tear.
After a beat, she sighed. "I talk about my friends too much, don’t I? I don’t bring up my family a lot because I don’t wanna bore you."
Blitz scoffed. "I don’t mind. Tell me about ‘em."
Anne took a deep breath before launching into a rundown of her life back home—her parents, their family restaurant Thai Go, her pet cat Domino, and her dad, who she had a great relationship with.
Blitz listened, arms crossed. "And your mom?"
Anne’s expression shifted.
"My mom? She’s kind but really strict. I suck at school, so she’d always make me study, and… well, I kinda just slacked off." She laughed sheepishly before turning her gaze toward the sky.
"But when she wasn’t being strict, she was so silly. She used to sing these old Thai love songs all the time." Anne chuckled. "No offense, but she was terrible at it."
She laughed a little longer, but the sound slowly faded. The smile stayed, but it wavered slightly, tinged with sadness.
"But now…" Her voice dropped. "I won’t get to see her again. Or hear her sing. And right now, I’d do anything just to hear her voice one more time."
Tears welled up, slipping down her cheeks before she could stop them.
Blitz stayed quiet, watching her.
Anne, realizing she was crying in front of him, immediately wiped her face. "Whoa! Sorry about that. Guess I got carried away."
She sat down on the fire escape floor, taking a minute to collect herself. After a moment, she glanced up at him.
"You know, you never really talk about your family. Or anyone you know that’s not Millie, Moxxie, or Stolas." She hesitated. "Is it okay if I ask?"
Blitz stiffened.
For a moment, it looked like he might dodge the question. But then, he sighed.
"Alright. I’ll tell ya," he muttered, lowering himself to sit beside her. "Wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t, huh?"
Anne said nothing, waiting.
Blitz pulled out his phone, scrolling through his gallery before stopping on a photo. He turned the screen toward her.
Anne leaned in, curious.
The image showed a young Blitz, standing beside a girl who looked similar to him and a woman with long black hair, sleepy eyes, and a skull charm—the same as the one Blitz wore.
Anne stared at the picture, intrigued.
"The girl you see is my twin sister, Barbie Wire. And the woman behind us… that's our mom," Blitz said, his voice softer than usual, a sad smile tugging at his lips. "I… miss the times when we were like this."
Anne tilted her head, confused by his tone, but before she could ask, Blitz quickly swiped through his gallery, searching for another photo.
But then—
"Wait, what’s this?" Anne suddenly asked, stopping him mid-swipe at a picture of Blitz taking a tired selfie next to a sleeping Stolas.
Blitz’s face instantly turned red.
"Just business partners, huh?" Anne teased, smirking as she leaned in closer. She had seen pictures of Stolas before, but never one of him asleep. It was oddly… personal.
"I-I was just bored, that's all! It means nothing!" Blitz snapped, his blush deepening as he fumbled with his phone.
"Admit it, Blitzy! You like him!" Anne pressed, batting her eyelashes dramatically.
"Shut up!" Blitz huffed, shoving her away—lightly, but still flustered. "You're too close, kid. And don’t call me that!"
Scowling, he quickly swiped away the picture, searching for the one he actually meant to show.
After a few flicks through his gallery, he landed on a different photo—one of himself as a kid, wearing braces and taking a selfie with a male imp Anne had never seen before.
Blitz stared at the screen, his expression unreadable as he held up a photo of himself as a kid, braces flashing in the dim light. Next to him in the picture was another imp, one with a wide, toothy grin, expressive eyes, and a posture full of energy.
"This guy right here is none other than my childhood best friend, Fizz," Blitz said, voice tinged with something Anne couldn’t quite place. "Fizzarolli’s his full name, but I always just called him Fizz. We worked at the same circus together as kids. We go way back… or at least, we used to."
The small, sad smile that had flickered on his face when looking at his family photo returned, only now, it seemed heavier.
Anne studied him for a long moment before hesitantly asking, "If you don’t mind… can you tell me what happened?"
Blitz stiffened.
For a moment, it looked like he wasn’t going to answer. The hesitation was clear in the way he gripped his phone, how his tail flicked slightly in agitation. Anne almost told him to forget it. But then, Blitz exhaled sharply, stuffed his phone into his pocket, and leaned against the railing.
"I…" He paused, then ran a hand down his face. "I had feelings for Fizz when I was about your age. A little older, actually. But I was also jealous of him. No matter what we did, he was always better than me. More skilled, more loved. Even my dad preferred him over me, always comparing us. Always putting me down."
His jaw tightened.
"On one of Fizz’s birthdays, I was gonna give him a card. It was supposed to be… a confession. I was finally gonna tell him how I felt." Blitz’s fingers curled into fists. "But then I saw my dad give him a card first. It said, ‘Wish you were my son.’"
Anne’s heart clenched.
"I lost all my courage," Blitz admitted, his voice quieter now. "I was mad. No—furious. I didn’t even realize I bumped into someone carrying a cake. The candles were still lit and—"
He faltered.
Anne watched as his hands trembled.
"There was a fire," Blitz finally forced out. "A huge one. It burned our tents, spooked the horses, and sent the audience and performers running. It was chaos. Fizz and I got caught in it. I only had minor burns, but him…" He swallowed hard. "He wasn’t as lucky."
The weight of his words sank in.
"I was gonna save him. I wanted to," Blitz whispered. "But then I realized… Mama was still inside one of the tents."
Anne already knew where this was going, but hearing him say it still made her breath hitch.
"I panicked," Blitz admitted. "I ran to save her instead."
Silence.
The way he said it—like he had been carrying that guilt for years, dragging it through every waking moment—made Anne’s chest ache.
"But I was too late," Blitz continued, voice breaking slightly. "She didn’t make it."
The tears welled in his eyes before he could stop them. He clenched his fists so tightly that his claws dug into his palms.
"Barbie and Dad survived, but they never forgave me. Barbie… I don’t even know where she is now. But if I ever find her, I need to apologize." He let out a bitter chuckle. "Not that it’d change anything."
Anne stayed silent, her concern growing by the second.
"As for Dad? He never cared about me, so it doesn’t matter," Blitz muttered, his voice colder now. "But Fizz… after he recovered, everything changed. Things between us were never the same. And I don’t blame him."
He fell quiet, staring at nothing in particular. His fingers ghosted over the white splotches on his face and arms—scars Anne had just now realized weren’t natural markings.
She opened her mouth to say something, but Blitz spoke first, his voice calmer this time.
"This charm," he said, lightly touching the skull-shaped pendant around his neck, "was my mom’s. She gave it to me before she… before everything. I’ve kept it ever since." He let out a hollow laugh. "Feels like a way to keep her close, even if she’d probably think my life choices are real questionable."
Anne could hear the sadness beneath his forced humor.
Then, suddenly, Blitz’s entire demeanor changed. His face twisted into something raw and vulnerable, and before Anne could react, he whisper-yelled, "You really wanna know why I scribbled my face out of all those pictures on the walls?"
She flinched at the intensity in his voice.
"It’s not some stupid quirk or whatever. It’s because I hate myself." His fists shook again, his whole body tense. "I push people away. I hurt them before they can hurt me. I don’t deserve to be loved. I don’t want to be loved!"
Anne felt her breath catch in her throat.
"I’d rather be hated than risk losing someone again," Blitz continued, voice cracking. "It’s easier that way. Less painful."
He took a shaky breath, closing his eyes.
"Do I deserve to die alone?" he muttered after a long silence.
Anne felt her chest tighten.
Blitz let out a humorless chuckle, his ears flattening. "Of course I do. Who the hell would actually care abou—"
Before he could finish, Anne lunged forward and hugged him.
Blitz went completely rigid.
Anne held on tighter. "You don’t deserve to be alone," she whispered.
Blitz wanted to protest. Wanted to tell her to stop. But the warmth of the hug, the sheer genuine kindness behind it, cracked something inside him.
His arms, almost hesitantly, wrapped around her. And then—
He cried.
For the first time in years, Blitz let himself cry.
From a distance, Loona watched.
She had been awake this whole time, unseen but listening. She had heard everything.
Her ears drooped slightly, sadness flickering in her red eyes. But as she watched Anne hold Blitz like a daughter comforting a father, a different emotion surfaced—
Hope.
"Thank you for being here, Anne," she whispered to herself.
Then, even softer—
"Dad’s gonna need all the help he can get."