HOME | DD

Unmasked — Description

Torres sat alone, her back against the cool tiled wall, her wet hair cascading over her shoulders, glistening under the faint glow of light spilling from the shower. Across from her, her damaged mask sat ominously on the floor, tilted slightly as if watching her. It was just a hunk of molded material, yet it seemed to weigh on her more now than it ever did when she wore it.
She grazed the faint bruise on her brow—the mark left by the hooligan’s bat. Her reflection in the mask’s dark, empty eye sockets pulled at her thoughts, whispering back the night’s events: the dull thud, the disorientation, how quickly she’d been out of control. Close. Too close.
Macho padded softly into view, his curious head poking through the doorway. His curious eyes locked onto her, then to the mask, and back again. Torres managed a small smile as she met his gaze. “What are you looking at big guy?” she muttered, her voice hoarse but soft. Macho tilted his head, letting out a low whimper before settling by the bathroom’s threshold, watching her intently, as if sensing the weight pressing on her.
Torres sighed heavily and shifted her focus back to the mask, her expression hardening. It had been her shield, her identity, and in many ways, her prison. How many nights have I spent hiding behind it? she wondered. The mark on her brow wasn’t just a bruise; it was a reminder of her mortality. One mistake, and it could’ve all been over.
Her gaze flickered toward the rippling water outside the window. Frogs croaking and dragonflies buzzing about—soft and serene, a stark contrast to the blood and chaos she lived in. She leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes briefly. For once, the idea of staying away, of leaving that life behind, didn’t feel so far-fetched. A longer absence from this chaotic job. A permanent one, even.
Macho let out another soft sound, breaking her train of thought. She opened her eyes and met his worried gaze again. “You would like that, huh?” she whispered, a faint smirk on her lips. “Me home. You staring at me all day like this.” as she gave him a quick pose with a bicep bounce.
The mask remained still on the tile—waiting, watching, a silent reminder of who she was and what she’d built. Torres’ eyes lingered on it for a long moment before finally shifting away. The decision wasn’t made, but something inside her stirred—an unfamiliar calm, a sliver of possibility.