For the first time in my entire life, I’m not just performing confidence or pretending to be brave or faking it till I make it.
I’m actually listening to myself. Trusting myself. Believing my body when it says danger instead of telling it to shut up and be logical.
Which means I’ll feel every threat for the rest of my life. No more blissful ignorance. No more pretending everything’s fine when my body knows it isn’t. I can’t turn this off now. Can’t unlearn what I’ve learned.
I’ll carry this serpent at my spine forever. This warning system. This knowing.
And I’m choosing it anyway.
Because the alternative—walking through the world blind while serial killers show up at my door—nearly got me killed tonight.
And that changes everything.
“Come on.” Alex links her arm through mine. Starts climbing the stairs to our loft. “Let’s get you inside. I need to sage and you need wine.”
“Can we also talk about kickboxing classes?”
“Absolutely.” She laughs. It sounds slightly unhinged. “First thing tomorrow I’m finding us a gym.”
The dandelion is still clutched in my fist. Wilted now. Broken. But real.
Proof that impossible things grow through concrete.
Proof that warnings come in strange forms.
Proof that I’m not crazy—I’m just finally, finally awake.
Ten
“It’s BYOB.”Alex reiterates for the third time, practically vibrating with suspicious energy.
She’s been like this all day. From the moment I woke up to a tarot card hitting me in the face to the breakfast tray that appeared at the foot of my bed like I’m a Victorian invalid.
It’s the first normal Sunday we’ve had since everything went sideways. Since I awakened my intuition on a walk home that nearly got me killed. Since Marcus showed up at our door. Since we almost lost each other.
Yes, I know I’m being dramatic.
Normal feels precious now. Fragile. Like something we have to actively choose instead of something that just happens.
Coffee, avocado toast, candied bacon with that brown sugar-cayenne glaze she knows I’d commit crimes for.
And she won’t tell me what we’re doing.
But my body isn’t screaming danger. That’s new information. The serpent at my spine—my constant companion since Wednesday’s walk home—stays quiet. Watchful but not alarmed. Alex’s energy reads safe. Excited. That bright, warm frequency I’ve learned to recognize as joy.
I’m getting better at this. Reading the room without trying. Feeling temperature shifts in energy. Trusting what my body reports.
It’s exhausting and amazing in equal measure.
“I feel like anything that is BYOB could be questionable.” I watch as she sets the wine carrier down and grabs my coat for me. Like I even had a choice in the matter about going or not.
Alex decided. Therefore I’m going.
If she’d just tell me what we’re doing.
“Only if that’s how you’re going to think about it.” She holds out my coat. Waits for me to put my arms through like I’m five years old and can’t dress myself. “It’ll be fun.”
I slide my arms in. She immediately starts fussing. Adjusting the collar. Smoothing the lapels. Fidgeting with the zipper.
