(chapter twelve.) what the hell happened to you?
❝ GIVE ME ONE OF YOUR KNIVES. ❞

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POET AND JULIAN SAT DOWN BY THEIR WINDOW, LOOKING DOWN AT THE PEOPLE passing by, watching them all with such awe as they viewed themselves in their position.

"Look at that girl!" Poet exclaimed, pointing at the woman across the street who slapped another woman. "Ooh, she got hit!"

"Look at that girl right there on the corner of that apartment building," Julian pointed at the building he was referring at, watching the girl who was eating something. "What is she eating?"

"I don't know," Poet answered before she grinned when the woman dropped whatever she was eating on the floor. "But look at that furry animal. Wonder what it does."

It was annoying to the 13-year-old twins that they didn't know literally anything from the outside world. They were isolated, prisoners in their own home due to their parents being afraid that their intelligence was to be ruined by the world and everybody else. Also, because their parents didn't want their perfect experiments to leave the house and become closer to people.

"It's barking?" Poet said in a confused tone. "Why is it barking at that thing? Why is that thing hissing at it?"

"What have we told you about coming to see this room?"

They immediately jumped away from the window, hands immediately being clasped behind their backs. Their hearts were racing and Poet and Julian looked at their father with an emotionless face.

"E1, you have training," their father said, glaring at the boy. Julian let out a small, yet clear, "yes, sir" and left the room. Their father turned to look at Poet. "E2 you're going to have to name every cell alphabetically."

"Yes, sir."

☂

Poet immediately ran to the store she and Five were just at, getting called by Diego and Detective Patch. She was still bloody and sweaty, her shoulder bleeding and her lip had dry blood.

She was greeted by a police officer who recognized her, letting her go through the crime scene. She looked around, now noticing the mess that the two people that wanted to kill her and Five did.

Diego was on one knee, looking at whatever he was looking. Poet stood next to Patch, panting. She was pretty sure that the amount of blood loss was making her sweat more. Patch stared at her in confusion, not noticing the bullet hole from her jacket.

"Let me save you some time running ballistics," Diego stood up. "These nine-millimeters haven't been manufactured since 19—"

"1963," Patch sighed. "Odd. I know."

Poet was still panting, noticing that Diego hadn't noticed her despite her heavy breathing. When he did finally notice her, his eyebrows were furrowed together, looking at her up and down.

"What the hell happened to you?" He questioned. Poet waved him off, following after Patch who requested something for Poet to use to wipe away the blood.

"Matching casings were found at a murder scene last night," Patch grabbed the bullet from Diego, the man immediately heading towards Poet's side and supporting her as he was the only one who noticed the gun shot and her eyes closing a bit. "Ishmael's Towing."

"The driver?" Diego questioned, wrapping an arm around the girl's waist to keep her steady.

"Found him hanging from the ceiling," Patch continued. "Looks like he must have known something after all."

"It's a shame nobody told you to go talk to him," Poet groaned quietly, grabbing the towel that an officer gave her. She thanked them, placing it on her lip to wipe away the blood.

"In the span of 24 hours," Patch started, "I've had attacks in three different places across town. Whatever this is, whoever this is, they're not slowing down. So, if you really give a shit and you've got any fresh ideas, I'm all ears."

Poet inhaled and got out of Diego's grip, standing up straight despite the fact that her body was about to shut down.

"What about the kid?" Poet questioned. Diego sighed, looking at the girl for basically stealing what he was about to say.

"The guy's kid," Diego said, "in the doughnut shop?"

"I've got units tracking the extended family in case anyone goes after him," Patch answered.

"Well, this place must have surveillance footage," Poet felt her eyes widening at Diego's words and her heartbeat increased. She slightly relaxed, though, when she heard Patch's words.

"The first unit on the scene clocked two shooters fleeing the premises, wearing, get this, creepy kids' masks."

"The city is really going to shit, huh?" Poet snorted next to him.

"It's been shitty."

"Coming from the guy dressed in spandex?" Poet chuckled at Patch's words. Diego looked at the girl, who faced the other way to laugh harder.

"It's not spandex, it's leather," Diego defended. Poet's laugh trailed off as she walked around, inspecting the damage caused by the two shooters.

"Poet," she didn't dare look up from her gaze on the floor, recognizing that voice. "Poet, it's me, Julian."

"Im imagining this," Poet breathed in. "I can't see dead people. That's Klaus' job. Not mine. What the hell is happening? I swear."

"Yeah, well, you go fill out your forms while I go hunt these animals down."

Poet snapped out of it, looking up as she had her fingers crossed, hoping that the two people she was seeing was not real.

She felt her arm being grabbed by none other than Diego. She looked down at her nails as they were stained with blood. She thought that she got shot only in the shoulder, but the pain in her torso also gave her the idea that she got shot there, too. So, with a little help of Five, she managed to take the bullet out of her.

Diego led her away from the scene, taking her somewhere more private so Poet could tell him what happened and who did it.

"What happened?" He immediately asked her, watching as she took off her jacket.

"Oh, Klaus punched me in the face for something," Poet simply answered. "Don't really mind, though. He's my friend. And I got shot by two people..."

"Did you see their faces?" Diego questioned again, grabbing her jacket as she passed it to him. Poet shook her head, grabbing the towel and patting it on her shoulder.

"It was dark," she replied, closing her eyes to remember what her mother did to her when she got shot in the shoulder at age 14. She placed her fingertips by the wound and plunged in her fingers in it, blodd staining her fingers. Diego grimaced. She looked at him. "Give me one of your knives."

Diego passed her his knife, watching her insert the knife by the wound which was seeping with blood. She gave it back to him, having more space to take out the bullet. She sighed in relief when she felt it, closing her eyes tightly at the immense pain.

Diego grabbed her other hand, which was clenched tightly, and let her grip it as tight as he could.

He felt her tight grip lessen, watching her place the bullet on the towel.

"Are you okay?" Diego asked in a concerned matter. Poet nodded.

"What a workout."