Fighting demons

CHAPTER 130
RYAN

Some days, I think I’m okay. I can breathe without the air feeling too sharp. I can move, run, talk, even smile. I can exist without bleeding out in my head, without feeling the constant ache of memories clawing at me.

But then there are days like today. Days when I feel like the universe is punishing me for every fleeting moment of happiness. Like I’m being reminded that I don’t deserve to feel good, not when so much of me is still broken, still rotting from the inside out.

These are the days when my wrists itch, when my thoughts spiral, when my chest feels like it’s being crushed under the weight of everything I’ve tried to bury. Days when breathing feels like swallowing ink—thick, black, suffocating ink that clouds every corner of my mind.

Today was supposed to be a good day. I woke up with Violet in my arms. We spent the day together—laughing, holding hands, living like we were just two normal people.

But then the day ended, and Margaret showed up like a ghost I thought I’d exorcised. She brought the memories with her, dragging them out of the grave I’d tried to bury them in. Now, I feel like I’ve gotten my black ink all over Violet, staining her, pulling her into the same hell I can’t seem to crawl out of.

I looked down at her sleeping form, her face peaceful, completely unaware of the storm raging in my chest. Her delicate lashes brushed against her cheeks, and her lips were curved into a soft smile, as if even in her dreams, she found reasons to be happy.

Her happiness was everything to me, and yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was ruining her.

Her eyes fluttered open slightly, their sleepy warmth cutting through the haze in my head. She frowned as she looked at me.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” she murmured, her voice laced with concern.

I forced a smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Just watching you sleep, Mouse.”

She smiled faintly, her eyelids already drooping. “Silly. You should get some rest.” Her voice trailed off as she drifted back to sleep.

For a moment, her smile made everything feel okay. For a moment, I thought I could hold it all together, just for her. But then that moment passed, and the shadows crept back in.

Margaret’s face flashed in my mind again, her smug expression, her words twisting the knife she’d already buried in me years ago.

I let out a heavy sigh, carefully slipping my arm out from under Violet and placing a pillow in its place. She shifted slightly but didn’t wake. I stood, glancing back at her one last time before stepping out onto the balcony.

The cool night air hit me like a slap, sharp and biting, but it wasn’t enough to clear my head. The city lights of Florence stretched out before me, beautiful and vibrant, but they felt distant, like they belonged to a world I didn’t quite fit into.

I gripped the railing, my knuckles turning white as I tried to ground myself. The memories were relentless, clawing at me with jagged edges, and for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t sure if I could keep them at bay.

I didn’t want her to know. I couldn’t let her know. Seeing Margaret had reopened wounds I’d thought were scarred over, and the last thing I wanted was for Violet to see how deep they still ran.

The only way to get rid of this demon might be to face it head-on. I’ve been running for years, burying it, pretending it wasn’t there. But Margaret didn’t just haunt my past—she infected my present, poisoning the life I was trying to build with Violet.

Maybe I need justice. Maybe that’s the only way to silence her ghost.

I pulled out my phone, the cool metal trembling slightly in my hands as I unlocked it. Scrolling through the gallery, I passed pictures of Violet—her smile, her laughter, her soft moments of vulnerability that made my chest tighten in ways I couldn’t explain.

After a long and relentless search in my gallery,I stumbled on the picture. I've always wanted to delete it but for some reason,I kept it. Maybe the universe knew I'd need it a day 

It was an old one, a relic from a time I’d tried to forget. My younger self stood between Margaret and my mom. I couldn’t have been older than eight, my small frame awkward and unsure, caught in the middle of something I didn’t understand back then.

Margaret’s smile was wide and pleasant in the picture, her hand resting on my shoulder like she was some kind of caring figure. But now, that smile felt like a mask. A lie. I stared at it for too long, my jaw tightening, the familiar burn of anger licking at the edges of my chest.

This would have to do. I cropped out my mom and me from the picture—I couldn’t let anyone else see it or connect the dots.

Attaching the edited photo to a text, I began typing:

“Find her. Her name is Margaret Willowbrook. I need everything you can dig up—her address, connections, history, anything. And I need it fast.”

I stared at the screen for a moment before hitting send to Jack.  my heart was pounding harder than it should have been.

Jack would find her—I had no doubt. If there was one person who could track a ghost through the ruins of my past, it was him.

I closed my eyes, trying to shove the images back into the box where I’d kept them hidden for so long. But tonight, the box was wide open, spilling its contents into every corner of my mind.

Facing Margaret might mean ripping open every scar I’d worked so hard to patch up, but I couldn’t keep dragging this weight around. Not if I wanted a future with Violet

The vibration of my phone pulled me out of my thoughts. I glanced down, the screen lighting up with Jack’s name. 
Jack: Got something. Call me.

My pulse quickened as I swiped to unlock the phone. My thumb hovered over the call button for a moment before I pressed it. The line rang twice before his gruff voice answered.

“Ryan.”

“What did you find?” I asked, my voice steady as I leaned against the balcony railing.

“She’s slippery, I’ll give her that,” Jack started, his tone clipped. “Margaret’s been using multiple aliases—most recently, she’s going by ‘Marta Gray.’ Found a paper trail that led to a small town not far from Florence. Looks like she’s settled there, at least for now.”

“Marta Gray,” I repeated, the name sitting heavy on my tongue. Of course, Margaret wouldn’t keep her real name. She was too clever for that.

“She’s got a bit of a reputation in the area,” Jack continued. “Fraud, manipulation, preying on the vulnerable. Nothing too concrete, but there’s talk of a missing teenager—a girl from the local orphanage. Last person she was seen with matches Margaret’s description.”

A chill ran down my spine, cold fury wrapping itself around me. Margaret’s methods hadn’t changed. She was still playing her games, still leaving devastation in her wake.

“You’ve got an address?” I asked, my tone ice-cold.

Just sent it to your email," Jack  "Why are you interested in this woman? You know her or what?"

"No," I lied smoothly. Jack wasn’t the type to let things slide, and I knew he didn’t buy it.

There was a pause. Of course, he didn’t believe me. Why else would I ask him to dig into a woman if I wasn’t personally invested? But Jack didn’t push—it wasn’t his style. He’d do the job and keep his doubts to himself.

" Alright but Ryan, listen—this woman’s dangerous. If you’re planning on doing something about this, tread carefully. She’s not the type you take lightly.”

“I’m not worried about her,” I said flatly. “Send me everything you’ve got.”

Jack hesitated, then sighed. “You’re as stubborn as ever. Fine. But don’t go diving headfirst into this without a plan. You’ve got people who care about you.”

I didn’t answer. The weight of his words hung in the air for a moment before the call ended.

A notification pinged on my phone. Jack had sent the files.

Opening the email, I skimmed through the details. The address popped out immediately, lodging itself in my mind. Every instinct told me to grab my keys and leave right now, but a soft creak from the bedroom door stopped me.

Violet stepped out, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her sleepy eyes found mine, concern written all over her face.

“Ryan,” she murmured, her voice soft, “is everything okay?”

For a second, I hesitated, the weight of my plan clashing with the need to protect her. I walked over and pulled her into my arms, her warmth grounding me in a way nothing else could.

“I’m fine, Mouse,” I whispered into her hair, even as the storm in my head raged on. “Go back to sleep. Everything’s going to be fine.”

She looked up at me, her gaze searching, but eventually nodded and let me guide her back to bed.

As I stood by the door, watching her drift back to sleep, I clenched my fists. Margaret’s shadow loomed large, but I’d face it. Not for revenge—but for justice. For the kid who’d been too scared to fight back. For the ones she was still hurting.

I glanced back at Violet, her peaceful expression a reminder of what I had to protect.

And for her. Always for her.