the sins of our sister / ebony {✾}

She slides the note under Sybil's door.

Because she's the eldest / because she's the one most likely to still be sleeping. Somewhere, in a deep dark bitter place inside of herself, Ebony thinks it's only fair to leave this information with her sister to make sense of. To handle. She looks at the years of radio silence, the bond never forged, the respect never earned. Ebony shouldn't have to be the only one in the family to step up to the plate when the going gets rough. So, furiously and desperately, she'll force the older girl's hand.

'I'm doing something reckless to see Van.
Take fucking care of our siblings.

- Eb'

And then she takes a breath, turns on her heels, and quietly and quickly makes her way to leave the one shelter separating herself and the disease sweeping through the district. The one that has infected her brother and torn countless families apart. She sneaks out a window on the first floor, standing in a dark alleyway with neon shadows, clutching tightly to the fraying threads of the Mars tapestry. She convinces herself she has the power to hold it all together. Conviction matters.

In all things.

Like stumbling into the streets like a girl gone mad / like an actress playing out a script she only knows half the words to. They're saying the sickness drives you mad, makes you prone to violence. Hushed whispers under frantic sobbing. Her brother's locked away in the hospital, and damn all her good sense, she knows exactly how to land herself there. So she lunges on the first unfortunate stranger to step in her path.

Three quick, well practiced hits / one to break the nose and draw blood / one to the throat to shock the victim's body / and a third to space right under their left temple to knock them (safely) out. All while screaming at the top of her lops, pretending to mindlessly pound her fists against the man's face, smearing the blood across his features with her gloves tucked in her back pocket. It's the perfect crime, the first step in her scheme.

The second comes with the feeling of hands tightening around her, pulling her away and into submission. Into the third and most crucial step.

Infiltration.