X . d4 . cb [2/3] fin

Yes, I'm using my cb's from ratmas lol omg what even is this madness so sorry xoxo

X . 17 . f

"So you think you want to join us?"

I nod. And nod, and nod again. It doesn't matter what question is, what they ask of me, what they need from me. The answer is yes. I'll do it.

"All we need is your is your signature."

The paper seems to materialize in front of me. The crisp, clean edges and straight-edged ink of the contract are a stark contrast to my bloodied knuckles and yellowing fingernails. I run my tongue over my cracked lips, blink as I step into the blinding light hanging over the bar.

The pen feels as heavy as a wrench. The man in front of me grins as I look to him. He points to the line at the bottom of the page—"Here."

My stomach growls; I take a deep breath.

I don't bother reading the words. No stipulation or condition is going to make me change my mind. I'm too desperate. Outside the Peacekeepers are looking for me. I may be just a measly orphan, but even kids with nothing to give must hand over their lives when they bash a Peacekeeper's head in with a crowbar.

But these people, they make problems go away. They protect whoever signs their contract. They give out money, food, a bed to sleep in, people to call family. Sign the contract and I'm safe.

I will my hand to stop shaking as I press the ballpoint to the paper.

He crinkles his brow as his gloved hand retrieves the pen and snatches the paper, sliding it safely into a folder.

"X? Stand for something?"

I nod, repeating the mantra my caretaker spouted every time I asked.

"Stands for 'my parents didn't give a shit.'"