Page 54 of Promises in the Dark

Red simply shrugged and gave me a blank stare, as if I was an enigma she couldn’t begin to understand.

“Are you just gonna stare at me all night?” I asked, making it clear that I wasn’t in the mood for any of her silent, judgmental crap.

When she heard the sudden shift in my mood, her eyes suddenly red-blinked like she was being brought back to reality.

“Where’s the bathroom?” she asked, still completely expressionless.

“Down the hall, to your right,” pointed without looking. “You can’t miss it.”

My eyes followed her as she disappeared around the corner. The sound of running water soon reached my ears, and my mind was immediately flooded with thoughts.

Red.

Her presence.

Her calming effect on me, even though I had no reason to feel that way in the first place.

It made no sense, but it was undeniable.

I poured myself another glass of whiskey, thinking exactly what the hell I was doing. I knocked it back, trying to drown out the conflicting thoughts. It wasn’t like I enjoyed it. It wasn’t like I wanted to keep drinking. But I couldn’t stop; I was too far gone.

I was supposed to be on a mission, hunting down the snitch in our ranks, not babysitting some chick and getting sidetracked by some hot piece of ass.

But damn it, Red wasn’t as annoying as I thought she’d be, and that just pissed me off more. She had this way of getting under my skin, making me question shit I didn’t want to question.

Fuck, I hated when shit got complicated.

I crushed the cigarette between my fingers, the ashes falling like snowflakes to the cold ceramic floor. The whiskey was doing its job, and the silence felt peaceful... almost too peaceful.

I paced outside the bathroom, irritated as hell by how long she was taking. Just as I was about to barge in, I heard it—a muffled sob. The sound barely made it through the walls, but there was no mistaking it.

She was crying.

My heart fucking sank. I didn’t know what the hell to do. I wasn’t the comforting type; I dealt with shit by punching it, not by talking it through. But I couldn’t just stand there like a dickhead while she broke down in the shower.

I hesitated, my hand on the doorknob. Every instinct told me to walk away, but something else—some dumb, misplaced sense of responsibility—made me push the door open. The steam from the shower clouded the room, but I could see her silhouette through the frosted glass. She was standing in the shower, fully dressed, tears streaming down her face.

Goddamn it. I didn’t need this. I was a soldier. I was a warrior.

I tried my best to keep a straight face, but fuck, it was tearing me apart inside.

“Stop crying… it makes me want to hug you,” I muttered, trying my best to sound stern and uncaring, but my tone was breaking. “And we both know that’s not my thing.”

Her crying was breaking me.

Red didn’t answer me. She simply continued to cry as if my words didn’t even register, her tears blending with the water falling down her face.

And that was when I fucking lost it.

I stepped closer, my usual aversion to physical contact thrown out the window. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her out of the shower cabin, her trembling body pressed against mine. The water soaked us both, but I didn’t give a shit.

For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like a complete monster.

But fuck, I hated feeling this way.

Red looked like she was about to shatter into a million pieces. And somehow, in that moment, I understood.

She’d been carrying this shit around, keeping it buried until it ate her alive, and now it was all spilling out like a busted pipe. I knew the drill—feeling like you’re drowning in your own damn head.

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