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♦ Millie Berbeco ♦

As Villain stood on the front stairs of Hero's apartment, she knew it was a bad idea. Even though Hero had said he would always be there for her, it had been before, before all the pain and trauma, before she had really become Villain. What good would it do if I ask for help? He was already mad about his best friend. I have already terrorized him enough. This can only hurt both of us. Villain stood there waiting, seeing if she could bring herself to knock. This is what bad guys do. They hurt people and then need help when they’re hurt. It’s not like I have another option.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Villain lowered her hand and started shifting her weight back and forth, anxiously waiting. She knew she shouldn't be here, but what other choice did she have? She was estranged from her parents, having hurt them years before, and she had no friends.

      The door opened a crack, as though it was hesitant to let her in. A head of black hair, the same color as hers, appeared.

“What are you doing here? Haven’t you done enough to my family?” Hero snarled.

“I had nowhere else to go. I need help.”

“Well, I won’t help you,” Hero said, his tone cold. He started to shut the door.

“Wait,” Villain pleaded, putting her foot in between the door and the wall. “I’m hurt. I need somewhere to rest. Please.”

“What happened?”

“I was cut. It’s not too bad but it hurts like a bitch.”

“Show me.”

“Seriously? Can’t you see the blood on my shirt?”

Hero’s tone turned forceful. “Could be ketchup. Show me.”

Villain lifted her shirt, showing Hero her wound. It was a cut that looked as though someone had slashed her in the side. It didn’t appear to be very deep at first glance but Villain watched the blood drain out of Hero’s face as he took in the wound.

“If I let you in, promise not to bleed all over my furniture?” Hero said, his eyes darting back and forth as though he was scared of what he was about to do.

“I swear,” Villain promised.

As Villain took a step into Hero's house, she shook her head. It was amazing that Hero would let her in. Hero is an apt name for someone like him, she thought, just like Villain is for me. Hero gestured for her to take a seat.

“What do you need?” he asked, an uncomfortable smile on his face. 

“I just need a place to rest where I don’t have to watch my back all the time.”

“Still living on the streets, I see,” Hero sighed. “I’ll set up a bed for you upstairs, if you can walk that far.”

“Of course, I can walk,” Villain scoffed. “I’m not an invalid.”

“All right then, up you go,” Hero said, smirking a little.

Villain struggled up the stairs, trying not to wince as blood started to flow more freely. She got to the bedroom and collapsed on the bed.

“You good, V?”

“Never been better, H,” Villain said, starting to fall asleep.

“Wait,” Hero said. “Do you need me to stitch up your wound? It looks a lot worse than before.”

        Villain was already dead to the world, falling into dreams that were so much better than the reality of needing her brother to save her, again.