Drowner: Becoming Defekt

Kai

"Around here should be fine," I say to the taxi driver as we pull up near a convenience store, just a block away from the office.

"39.69," he announces, his tone indifferent but expectant. A thief, really—but I don't have the energy to argue. It's not like it matters. I hand over the cash without a second thought, barely noticing when he mutters a thanks. After all, it's not like I'll be needing money after tonight.

As soon as the receipt touches my hand, I'm out of the car. The door slams behind me, and I step into the fluorescent glow of the convenience store.

The cashier doesn't even look up as I wander down the aisles. I grab an energy drink first, then hesitate at the cigarette display. Two years. I haven't touched a pack in two years.

But it's not like it matters anymore.

I toss the cigarettes onto the counter and pay in silence. As I leave the store, I crack open the energy drink and shove the pack of smokes into my pocket.

It's fine. Nothing really matters now.

I arrive at the office, scanning my card to unlock the door. The soft beep grants me entry into the dark, silent building. It's already 9 P.M.—everyone else is home with their families by now.

Not me.

I don't have a home to go to. No family waiting for me. I'm all alone. But not for long. Soon, I'll be reunited with my father.

The elevator dings, announcing my arrival on the fourth floor. I step out and head toward my desk. Or where my desk used to be.

It's empty now.

Of course, it's empty. I've been fired. My boss made it clear in his last message: Don't bother coming back.

Still, something catches my eye—a small note taped to the edge of the desk.

Hey Kai, Daniel here. Boss wanted to toss your stuff, but I took it home with me. Message me, and I'll bring it over.

I hold the note for a moment, my chest tightening. Daniel… always trying to help. He'll never get the chance to bring my things back. He'll never see me again.

I leave the desk behind and walk past the elevator. Not to the exit.

To the roof.

I light myself a cigarette. Standing at the edge, I look down. The streetlights blur into the night, the distance between me and the ground feeling almost surreal.

I wonder—will five floors be enough to kill a monster?

I guess I'll find out.

"Are you sure you want to do that?"

The voice from behind startles me so badly I nearly lose my balance, my heart lurching in my chest as I stumble closer to the edge.

"Do you want to kill me or something?" I snap, spinning around. It's her. The blonde girl. Gorgeous even now, dressed in an oversized purple hoodie that somehow makes her seem more human—less intimidating.

"I'm pretty sure you don't need my help with that," she says softly. Her voice isn't mocking; it's calm, steady, almost concerned. "Why? Why would you even think about doing this to yourself?"

"I thought I'd be doing humanity a favor," I reply, bitterness dripping from every word. "One less monster to worry about."

I take another step closer to the edge. Her hand shoots out, grabbing the torn fabric of my suit, holding me in place.

"You can do much more than that, and you know it," she says, her tone firm but not harsh. "Think about it. How many kids would've lost their parents? How many parents would've lost their kids if you hadn't stopped those two drowners? If you really want to help humanity, and you've got nothing to lose, then join us."

Her words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. But I can't stop myself from pushing back.

"Join the Blues? Yeah, right." I scoff, my voice sharp with sarcasm.

"We're not the Blues," she snaps, her expression tightening. "The Blues are nothing but the government's puppets, catching Defekts and drowners to experiment on them, torture them, all in the name of 'science.' They're just greedy bastards chasing money.

"Our group? We're different. We fight for people, not profit. We protect those who can't protect themselves."

Her words make sense—too much sense. But no matter what she says, I can't shake the truth I've been telling myself: I'm still a monster.

"I get it," she continues, her voice softening. "For whatever reason, you hate Defekts. But whether you like it or not, you're one of us."

"I'm not one of you," I spit back, shaking off her grip. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't want to be like this. I didn't want—"

"To survive?" she cuts in, her gaze steady, piercing through my anger like a blade. "Because that's all any of us are trying to do, Kai. Survive. You didn't ask for these powers, I get that. None of us did. But you're here now, and you've already saved lives with them."

I laugh bitterly, yanking at my shirt in frustration. "You're giving me too much credit. I didn't save anyone. It wasn't me—it was my body, but it wasn't me."

"You're so busy hating yourself for what you are that you're blind to what you could become," she says, her voice cutting through my self-loathing. "You want to do something good for humanity? Then stop running from who you are."

I can't answer her. I can't even look at her.

She steps closer, her oversized hoodie shifting in the cold breeze. "We're not the villains you think we are, Kai. We're not perfect, but we're fighting for something that matters. The Blues? They'll use you, break you, and throw you away. But with us, you'll have a purpose. You'll have people who care whether you live or die."

"I don't care about living," I mutter, the words barely audible even to myself.

"Well, I do," she says, her voice firm and unyielding. "And deep down, I think you do too. Otherwise, you wouldn't still be standing here, trying to talk yourself into jumping."

The silence between us feels unbearable, heavy with everything I can't bring myself to say.

Finally, I manage to speak. "And what happens if I join you? What happens when I hurt someone, when I lose control? What happens when I become the monster I'm so afraid of?"

Her eyes soften, and she reaches out, placing a hand on my arm. "Then we'll be there. To stop you. To help you. To remind you that you're not a monster, Kai. You're human. A human with power—and the choice to use it for something greater."

I glance back at the drop below, the wind biting against my skin. Then I look at her, standing there with quiet determination, her eyes filled with something I haven't felt in a long time: hope.

"Fine," I say at last, stepping back from the edge. "I'll think about it."

Her lips curl into a small smile—not triumphant, just relieved. "That's all I'm asking."

As I follow her back inside, I wonder if—just maybe—there's still something left worth living for.