Key’s Point of View
"Now prove to me that what you're fighting for is right."
The moment those words left my lips, I heard the loud clatter of Bolt’s gun hitting the floor as well. Ingrid chuckled, straightening up with smug confidence before smirking at me and letting go of her own weapon. Shaun and Spiro both sighed heavily before solemnly laying down theirs.
“Let’s have a deal, Summers,” Ingrid said with a grin. I didn’t answer. I just stared at her, waiting. “If you lose this fight, I’ll leave the country with the hostages. But if you win—” she smirked again, “you can kill us all freely.”
The three of them backed off, smug. Shaun signaled, “Attack them!” he shouted.
I snapped to attention as their men charged at us. I ducked, dodging a man who had thrown a punch, then leapt back when he aimed a kick. When he tried again, I grabbed his leg, spun him around, and brought him crashing to his knees. I slammed my elbow into his shoulder, then snapped his neck without hesitation.
I didn’t care who was watching. When I’m this angry, nothing around me matters—not fear, not guilt, not pity.
I sprinted forward and vaulted onto a large drum. When one of their men followed, I leapt and struck him square in the chest with both feet. I could feel his ribs give way beneath my kick, and he fell unconscious before hitting the ground. Still, more enemies came. They seemed endless.
I was caught off-guard when someone kicked me from behind. My body slammed against the cement floor. I groaned and winced in pain. My head spun from the force. Slowly, I got up, discreetly pulling a spare syringe from my pocket—thank God I brought extras. Before the man could reach me, I opened the cap and hurled it at his neck with all my strength. It hit its mark, and he dropped.
I grabbed another man by the hair and drove my knee into his face repeatedly until blood poured from his nose and he was visibly dazed. I followed up with a swift kick—his body crashed into a rusting sheet of metal. I clenched my fist, feeling the bones in my hand tense and sting from the repeated impact. My knuckles were raw and bloody.
It was relentless—punches, kicks, screams, bones breaking. We’d taken a lot of them down, but there were still more standing. I noticed Yvo pulling out poisonous darts. He was exhausted. We all were. I gathered my strength, raised a leg, and delivered a strong kick to the face of another man charging at me. My breathing grew heavier.
Bolt had drawn his butterfly knife. He was drenched in sweat, his shirt clinging to him. Merville? Still standing strong. I knew she was struggling too, but we had no choice. We had to fight.
I grabbed a man by the throat, lifted him with all my strength, and slammed him into the concrete. His head cracked open on impact. Brutal? Yes, absolutely.
“Susi! At your right!” I heard Kuya Mcphee shout.
My eyes widened as I looked in the direction he pointed. I barely managed to step back just in time to dodge a man lunging at me with a butterfly knife.
I blocked his knife-wielding arm and kicked his hand, making him drop the weapon. I was about to punch him when he suddenly collapsed. Behind him stood Yvo, holding a used dart.
“Prepare yourself when I disappear, bitch! I’m gonna punch you in the ass!” I heard Kuya Mcphee shout at the man who had chained him by the neck.
“Stop this fight! Bolt!” Kuya Chord’s voice was full of concern, but no one listened.
I punched another attacker heading toward me. I was about to turn to Ingrid when pain exploded in my face. I was struck and thrown against a drum. I bent forward, feeling the hot trickle of blood from my nose.
“Mavis!”
I didn’t know who shouted. My vision spun as I tightly shut my eyes. When I looked up, I saw Ingrid walking toward me. Yvo was still fighting the powerful Shaun. Spiro was locked in combat with Bolt, while Merville was finishing off some of their men.
I curled up in pain as Ingrid kicked me hard in the ribs. Blood spurted from my mouth as tears welled in my eyes. I gasped for air—each breath more difficult than the last.
“A stupid daughter. A neglectful sister. A delinquent student. A dumb lover. A weak agent. And a loser,” Ingrid said mockingly.
She yanked my hair and slapped me hard across the face, then shoved me back to the ground. My face hit the cement once again. I stared blankly at the floor, where sweat, blood, and tears pooled beneath me.
I don’t know if I was hallucinating, but within that small puddle on the ground, I saw the image of my childhood—my family.
“What will you name the child, ma’am?” the midwife asked.
Mama Laura smiled, glanced at Papa Erik, then turned back to the midwife. “Daron. Daron Demeri.”
“Ate Daron, why do we have different last names?” little Dash once asked innocently.
I smiled at the child. “Because we have different fathers.”
“If your Papa takes you away, will you go with him? Will you leave me, Ate?” he asked, on the verge of tears.
“Of course not. You’re my family, and I love you.”
“How dare you hurt my child?!” Mama once yelled at a nasty neighbor. “She treats me with so much care, and you think you can just slap her? I didn’t bring her into this world just to be trampled on. If I have to fight for her, I will!”
“Papa, why are people so mean to me? Am I a bad person?” I once asked him through sobs.
“Sweetheart, everyone has a little bad in them. The difference is—yours is in the right place. Theirs isn't.”
“But why is it that when I fight back, I’m the bad one?” I asked again, still crying.
Papa gave me a gentle, tired smile. “That’s how it is. But it’s worse if you let them hurt you, even when they’ve gone too far.”
“Mama…”
“Daron, my child. When you know you’re being mistreated, fight. If they hurt you, let it go. But when it’s too much, fight back,” Mama told me with a soft smile.
“You can’t keep bottling everything inside. If you do, you’ll end up turning into someone you’re not. And you don’t always have to give in. Learn to stand your ground when you’re hurt. Learn what’s right from wrong. Is it right that they hurt you just because they think you’re bad? Or is it wrong because they have no right to judge you, especially when you haven’t done anything to them?”
“Mama…”
“Life is simple, but we people are the ones who make it complicated.” She stroked my hair gently. “If someone matters to you, do everything to keep them. Fight. Don’t let them hurt you.”
“Ma—” I gasped, a tear sliding down my cheek.
“If someone matters to you, do everything to keep them.”
“Fight. Don’t let them hurt you.”
“What now, Summers? Giving up? You’re losing,” Ingrid taunted.
She yanked my hair again and tried to force me up. She laughed in my face, and I glared back with fury. She slapped me again—so hard that I was thrown backward.
Laughing, she moved toward me to kick me again. But this time, I blocked her with both arms. She lost her balance and staggered backward.
I forced myself to stand and stepped closer to her. While she was still reeling, I spun and delivered a sharp roundhouse kick. Her body flew and her head slammed against the stairs. I felt something snap in my foot—likely a broken bone—but I bit my lip, stifling my scream.
My eyes shot to Bolt, who had screamed. His left arm was bleeding heavily, and he was barely standing. Still, he smiled. Spiro stood before him, gun aimed at his chest. Kuya Chord, bound in chains, was crying and shaking his head as he watched helplessly.
Bolt kept smiling, as if accepting defeat.
No. Not happening.
I pulled the butterfly knife strapped to my leg and hurled it straight at Spiro’s chest. It landed, piercing his heart. His eyes widened in shock as blood spilled from his mouth. Bolt looked stunned.
“No! Shit! Shit! Ingrid! Spiro! No!” Shaun shouted.
I turned just in time to see him raise his gun. He fired. The bullet hit my right arm. I thought that was it—but he fired again. This time, it hit my stomach. I felt the bullet tear through me. They screamed. I coughed up blood. Pain surged through every cell in my body.
Then—Shaun’s eyes widened. Blood spilled from his forehead.
"Untie them!"
I turned toward the voice and saw Kuya Mcphee on the stairs, gun in hand. He must’ve escaped somehow. He rushed toward me in a panic.
Ingrid was alive—I made sure of that. And I’ll make sure she goes mad from suffering.
“No, Susi. Hold on, please. I already called the agency. They’re coming. Just wait,” Kuya Mcphee pleaded, tears in his eyes.
I shook my head and coughed blood again. I forced myself to stay upright.
“M-Merville,” I said weakly, glancing at her. She was slumped against a drum, hand pressed to her bleeding side. “K-kuya… she’s l-losing her b-blood…”
He gripped his hair in panic, torn on what to do. “S-she n-needs you more,” I whispered with a smile that turned into a grimace. “I can h-handle m-myself. Please… g-go to her…”
He had no choice but to obey.
Yvo was also wounded, but he chose to help the struggling Bolt. I widened my eyes and shook my head. Fight, Mavis. You can do this.
I looked at Ingrid, unconscious at the foot of the stairs. The enemies still hadn’t released the hostages. I grabbed the gun near my feet and limped forward, hand over my bleeding side. With every step, blood trickled down.
I was running out of blood. My throat was dry. I reloaded my gun and aimed it at a man holding a rifle. Before I could say a word, they panicked and released my classmates—and those upstairs too.
My vision spun. Sweat poured down my face. My eyelids grew heavy. I lost my balance. I braced to fall—only to feel arms catch me.
I looked up. Gio. Crying. Holding me tightly. I forced myself to stand and smiled softly.
He’s here. I got him back.
I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against his chest. I could hear his heartbeat pounding and his sobs breaking free.
“P-please, don’t l-leave me,” he begged through broken sobs. “I k-know you’re t-tired… and d-dying, but please—survive. For u-us… for m-me. I’ll fight now. I will. B-but please… don’t go without coming back to me.” His trembling fingers gently brushed through my hair, and I could feel his hand shaking against my scalp.
I gasped for air, my body frozen in place. My lungs were running empty, my vision flickering like a dying flame—but I resisted. Even as the weight of surrender pressed on me, I held on. My breath came in shallow, shaky bursts. My knees buckled beneath the fading strength in them.
“G-Gio…” I whispered, barely audible. He didn’t respond.
“S-sing for m-me… please.” The words were almost lost, each syllable dragging out what little breath I had left.
And so, with tear-filled eyes and a voice that trembled, he began to sing—voice cracking, breath hitching:
When the v-visions around y-you
B-bring t-tears to your e-eyes
And all that s-surrounds you
Are s-secrets and lies…
I’ll be your s-strength, I’ll g-give you hope
Keeping your f-faith when it’s gone
The one you should c-call
When you’re standing here all alone…
I watched him struggle through every word, his voice cracking under the weight of sorrow. I knew he was trying not to break down completely—he was holding himself together for me, even though I could feel the way his voice wavered, the way his breath shook.
I felt every pair of eyes on me—sympathetic gazes, tear-stained faces watching this final moment unfold.
A-and I will take you in my arms
And hold you right where you belong…
Till the day my life is through,
This I promise you.
This I promise you.
My eyes fell shut as he pressed a trembling kiss to the top of my head. I managed to glance down at my wrist—our matching tattoos etched into our skin. The sight triggered a wave of memories: the beginning, the middle, the now. Everything came flooding back, like a movie flashing across my mind.
“I-I’m happy… t-to leave this world… because I know I f-fought,” I whispered, voice dry and broken.
Tears streamed down Gio’s face. His lips trembled as he leaned closer.
“I l-love you, Key Mavis Summers,” he said, trying to smile through the ache. “You f-fight good.”
Those were the last words I ever heard from him—before the light in me faded, and I surrendered to the dark.
@rrrrrylleism