The crematorium smelled like gas and cheap incense. Small room, fluorescent hum, oven door shut. No chairs for guests. No guests. Just me, the attendant in white polo, and the urn waiting on a metal table.

  Mom's body went in quiet. No ceremony. No priest. No neighbors pretending they cared. She died alone in that OR, vices back, kidneys poisoned. Ashes came out hot. I took the plastic bag, sealed it, walked out into the rain.

  I have no one to tell. Lyra didn't know. My kid didn't know. The neighbors forgot about her the day she stopped yelling.

  I stood under awning. The urn in jacket pocket is heavy. Thoughts of her last words. Slurred, bottle in hand. "Whatever you did... don't let it eat you."

  Something shifted inside. My chest tightened. Not grief. Rage. It's sudden, and hot.

  The rain turned into a storm in my head. Thunder cracked my skull. Lightning flashed behind some eyes, red and sharp. Streets blurred. Sewers overflowed with hallucination. A black water is rising, shit and piss flooding my ankles, drowning my thoughts in filth. The smell hit my nose. Rot, decay, everything buried coming up.

  "This ain't the rain," I muttered. "This is me breaking."

  The entity's voice answered. Deep. Hungry. Right in the bone.

  Good. Name it. Own it. You paid in screams. Reyes begged. Corvin bled. Mom burned. Now let it flood.

  I stopped under flyover shadow. Water pooled real around my shoes.

  "No," I said low. "Not yet."

  Why fight? it pushed. She drank. Smoked. Yelled. You fixed her body. But couldn't fix her. Burn it. Start with the kid. Doyle Mateo. You don't even know him. Show up. Break him like you broke everything.

  Throat tight. "Shut up."

  It laughed.

  You can't. I'm you. The part that drove while he screamed. The part that twisted the knife. Let me out.

  The storm peaked. Sewers surged, hallucination water to my waist, dragging me down. I staggered. I gripped the rail.

  Knew if I let go, I'd drown in it. Knew if I held on, it'd wait.

  I held on.

  The flood receded slow, storm quieted to rumble. The entity is still there. Watching.

  "Not yet," I said again. My voice steadier.

  It didn't answer.

  I kept walking. Toward Valenzuela. Toward her. Toward him.

  Doyle Mateo.

  The kid I didn't know.

  The storm waited inside.

  Ready.

  Valenzuela rental. Same cracked wall, same sari-sari downstairs. I paid the taxi. Bag in hand again. Diapers, formula, robot car upgrade, new bear, envelope thicker this time. 80k. Cash keeps coming, but nothing sticks.

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  I knocked. Door opened slower than last time.

  Her. Tired eyes sharper now. Doyle Mateo on her hip, bigger, staring at me like he remembers the last snap.

  "Nolan."

  "Yeah." Voice low. "Can I come in?"

  She stepped aside. No warmth. Just tolerance.

  Toys from last visit was scattered. Bear chewed, car missing a wheel. He looked up.

  I knelt. Set the bag down. Pulled a new bear. He grabbed it. Squeezed once, and dropped it.

  "More stuff," I said.

  She crossed arms. "You said that last time. And the time before. What's different now?"

  "Nothing." I stood. "Just... trying."

  She watched Doyle play. "He cried after you left last time. You grabbed the bear too hard. It scared him."

  My throat tightened. The entity whispered. See? You break what you touch. Do it again.

  I swallowed. "I didn't mean—"

  Doyle knocked over the robot car. Whined. Reached for it.

  I picked it up fast, too fast. My hand closed tight. "Here. Don't throw it."

  My voice got sharper than I meant. Doyle flinched. He cried.

  Lyra's eyes flashed. "Get your hand off him!"

  I let go. The car dropped. Doyle wailed.

  "You're doing it again," she said low. Voice steel. "Show up with cash like it fixes the shake in your hands. The dead look in your eyes. The way you smell like smoke and regret. You think toys and money make you a dad? You scare him. Every time."

  I looked at Doyle. Crying soft. Bear clutched like a shield.

  "I'm trying," I said. Quiet. "Fixed Mom. Thought I could fix this."

  "Fixed Mom?" She laughed bitter. "She drank herself dead after. You think that's fixed? You're carrying the same poison. Whatever you did out there, the blood on your knuckles, the way you flinch at nothing, it's eating you. And it'll eat him if you keep coming."

  The entity pushed. She's right. Leave. Or break him proper.

  I stepped back. "I'll go."

  "No," she said. "Don't come back. Not till you're clean. Not till you can look at him without that shadow in your eyes. He deserves better than the monster you're becoming."

  The door clicked shut behind me. Lock turned like a final nail. Rain light on my face. I stood there for a second, staring at the cracked steps. Doyle's cry still echoed in my skull. Her words cut deeper: "it'll eat him if you keep coming."

  I walked. Hailed a cab.

  Streets blurred. Rain picked up. 7/11 sign glowed weak ahead the same one I used to slump at after every bad run. Same curb. Same nothing.

  I got out of the cab.

  Then it hit.

  Rage boiled over. Not quiet anymore. Hot and loud. My chest split open.

  The storm cracked in my head, thunder is real this time, lightning red behind my eyes. Black water flooded the street in my vision, rising fast, shit and piss lapping the tires.

  The entity stepped out.

  Not a shadow. Not a whisper. Full form. Tall. Black coat. Face blank. Red eyes burning low.

  It stood in the rain. Dry. Watching me.

  A voice came from it. Deep, mine but colder. It echoed in my bone and the air.

  She's right. You're poison. Doyle Mateo. Your blood. You scared him. You snapped. Like Mom snapped at you. Break it all. Burn the city. Start with this curb. This store. This life.

  "No," I said low. Voice shaking.

  It stepped closer. Rain bent around it.

  You can't say no forever. You called me at the crematorium. Fed me every scream. Every drop of blood. Now I'm here. Full. Let me in.

  Red eyes flared. Storm peaked. Lightning split the sky, a real thunder rolled. Sewers overflowed my vision. Water to my chest, dragging me under.

  I shook my head hard. "Not yet."

  It laughed.

  No voice answered. It didn't need to. It was in me now.

  I walked in.

  The door chimed. Lights buzzed. A girl behind the counter. Miserable, wet hoodie, ramen steaming, and looked up. I didn't see her. Didn't care. She was background now.

  I grabbed:

  Two San Mig Lights from the cooler — slammed them on the counter.A pack of Malboro Gold — ripped open right there, lit one with the store lighter.Bag of Jack 'n Jill Chiz Curls — tore it, ate handful walking.Bottle of Red Horse, the big one — popped cap with teeth, swigged deep.

  Counter girl stared. "Sir... you have to pay first."

  I flicked ash on the floor. Looked at her dead. "Run it up. Or don't."

  She swallowed. Rang it slow. Hands shaking.

  I threw crumpled bills, more than enough. Didn't wait for the change.

  I walked out. Sat at the curb. Rain on my face.

  Chugged a Red Horse. Smoked deep. Crunched the Chiz Curls loud.

  No stare at nothing.

  Just sat like I owned the curb.

  The entity was quiet inside. No need to talk anymore.

  I was it.

  The knife in my pocket. Beer in my hand. City in my front.

  Next move? Whatever the fuck I want.