hesitant—he’s recalling the last time he found himself at this office, bloodstained and violent, yet it offers some strange solace to him—the only unbroken finger of his left hand poised just shy of the doorbell. he doesn’t recall it being here during his earlier visits, though finds himself grateful for the recent addition. it’s late, storm clouds shielding the sun as it prepares to sink into hiding, and for a moment he’s mesmerised by the refracted light. beauty that’s so out of reach, yet so tantalisingly close. it’s so rare that light shines on jericho. finger still raised, a gentle caress of the golden hues that seem so… ethereal. unworldly. it’s not sunlight that touches him so frequently, rather the softness of the moon. more often than not, he finds himself bathed in blood and dirt beneath the brightness——the thought alone making him flinch. his chest should ache for the lives he’s stolen, but he’s merely reminded of his broken ribs and how they roughly grate together with each breath.

his eyes fall on a figure, one he’d recognise anywhere—everywhere—even by a simple glimpse at her small frame… but he sees it in her walk, the confidence, the way she carries herself and dares stare down an unruly driver. she’s too lost in herself to notice him and he knows it’s to be expected, knows that wednesday is… better off without him, and yet he needs her to see him. opens his mouth to call her over, but no words come. simply a splash of blood against his shoes. she’d like to see him like this, he thinks; broken, bleeding—nose broken, right arm, once so useful and now a meaningless appendage hanging loosely at his side— victim of a torture leagues above what she could possibly do.

“tyler,” kinbott snatches his attention and he’s confused at first, he didn’t ring the bell to call her, “you look…” she’s frowning, light peeking behind her just for a second and he swears it takes the form of a halo. he doesn’t have the time nor the energy to address it… or why he so clearly envisions her beneath him, spitting an insult through her last breath as he devours her. maybe it’s a promise from the future, maybe it’s one of those dark fantasies that bleed through from his beast. her backwards step invites him in, opting to abandon the tail end of her sentence to relocate the conversation.

“what happened to you?” her question comes with a box of tissues placed before him as he finds respite on the couch he so often found himself in during their sessions. the place he’d spill his heart, now it’s only his blood.

“i’m sorry?” caught off guard, only now realising how bone cold he is, he frowns. feeling the looseness in his front teeth as he does so.idly wobbling one with his tongue, it wouldn't take much to dislodge it entirely.

“who hurt you?”

a pause, one that feels as though he could fill the entirety of space with its vastness, and then some. “i did.”

to his surprise, kinbott nods. busying herself with a file as though this is any ordinary session. “i thought as much.” another frown from tyler, deep enough to agitate a wound on his head. “you’re wondering if you, if tyler really exists at all anymore.”

her words seem to pin him right back into the couch, the truth having eluded him, and then stunned him beyond comparison—was this why he was here? “you want to know you exist outside of that beast, so you hurt yourself——you needed to see if you’re still capable of sensation.”

his eyes fall to his lap, to the mangled fingers that rest there. follow a crimson trail up his other arm, where he only now notices the fragmented edges of bone peeking through his shirt. how he needs to poke it, force that bone back where it should be——he knows it won’t hurt. “tell me, how do you feel now?”

“cold.” the bone grinds as he applies pressure to it and he knows he’s shaking but only with the icy chill of shock. 

“no pain?” she’s assessing him and just how dire his situation is. no sympathy in her voice, just the calculated drawl of professionalism.

he’d shrug if he were capable, admitting defeat to the dislodged bone, shoulder raising instead. “just cold. i think i’m too far gone. i think he won.” defeat not only to his injury, but his beast. he focuses back on kinbott, and it’s then he knows. then he realises he should’ve always known.

skin sheds before him, ruby ribbons forming on her chest. bleeding through perfectly ironed fabric in the way he remembers doing himself. the cavity in her chest forms to release a chewed heart, and her face slowly tears——as if the hyde is gnawing on it right now while he's watching…and all she does is smile at him.

“no, tyler.” he’s transfixed as she speaks, watching words form through the side of her mouth as opposed to the front. “you won.” her eyes gesture to the bathroom to their left, the closed door whose edges seems to glow just like the clouds did. “go on, it’s okay. your mom’s waiting for you.”