I glance around, spotting a sleek console table by the wall. My reflection in the mirror above it makes me grimace. I look like a drowned rat. My wet hair clings to my face in sad, limp strands, and my jacket hangs off me like I stole it from a garbage heap. Elena’s voice pops into my head:“But if your shoulders get any stiffer, don’t come crying to me when they fuse into your neck.”
“Thanks, Elena,” I mumble, rolling my shoulders, which are now practically kissing my ears. “Really appreciate your input.”
I drop my bag on the table, pulling out my phone. The cracked screen flickers to life, but the signal bar stays stubbornly empty.
“Perfect,” I whisper. “Just perfect.”
My fingers brush against the joint.
Maybe a little weed wouldn’t hurt. You know, just to keep from spiraling into a full-blown stress pretzel.
I pull it out, turning it over in my hands. The bright green paper practically screamsbad idea,but I’ve already walked into a strange mansion uninvited. Why not add to the list? I palm it, along with the lighter I keep in my purse for emergencies, then sling the strap back over my shoulder.
I wander through the house, my boots leaving wet prints on the pristine floors. The silence follows me, heavy and oppressive, until I step through a pair of glass doors onto the patio.
“Hello?” I call out again, my voice cutting through the misty air. It bounces back to me, hollow and unanswered.
What I see stops me in my tracks. The patio is like something plucked out of a dream—or maybe a billionaire’s vision board. The stone tiles shimmer faintly under the soft glow of recessed lights, leading to a pool so extravagant it makes my jaw slacken. The infinity pool stretches out before me, its surface impossibly smooth, catching and distorting the faint outlines of the trees beyond.
And those trees—God. They’re massive, ancient-looking things with twisting branches that reach for the sky like they’re plotting something. The forest beyond the pool is deep, dark, and wild, the kind of place you wouldn’t survive without a machete and a good dose of luck. Mist curls through it, snaking around the trunks and clinging to the edges like it belongs there.
I step forward without realizing it, drawn to the view. It’s magnetic, impossible to look away from. The air out here is different—cooler, damp with the kind of chill that feels intimate, like it’s wrapping around you. My boots tap softly against thestone as I walk toward the edge, like I’ve been charmed into some ridiculous trance.
And then my eyes settle on the pool’s edge, where the water melts seamlessly into the treetops below. It’s surreal, as if the forest itself is trying to devour the pool. The mist hangs heavier now, swirling lazily over the treetops, giving the whole scene an otherworldly quality.
For a moment, I just stand there, staring, the sound of my own breathing the only thing tethering me to reality. The rain has finally stopped, leaving the air crisp and still, like the world is holding its breath.
“Alright, Elena,” I mutter aloud, flicking the lighter as I stand beside the pool. “Let’s see if this actually helps.”
The flame dances, and I bring it to the end of the joint. It ignites with a soft crackle, and I take my first-ever drag.
Big mistake. Huge.
The smoke hits my lungs like a battering ram, and I instantly start coughing so hard I double over, clutching the railing like it’s the only thing keeping me alive. My eyes water, my chest burns, and for a split second, I’m convinced this is how it ends—not in some grand adventure, but by dying like an idiot trying to be cool in the middle of nowhere.
“Relaxation, my ass!” I wheeze, my voice hoarse. “People do this forfun? Are they insane?”
The coughing eventually subsides, and I stand up straight, wiping my watery eyes. My reflection in the pool stares back, damp and pitiful, looking like the ghost of bad decisions past. But I’m nothing if not stubborn, so I give the joint another defiant look.
“Round two,” I mutter, raising it like a toast to my own stupidity.
I take another drag.
This one goes down… slightly better. I still cough, hacking into the night air like a 90-year-old chain smoker, but this time, something shifts. I lean against the railing again, waiting, squinting out at the forest as if it holds all the answers. The mist swirls lazily below, the trees swaying faintly in the breeze.
And then it hits me.
It’s subtle at first—a kind of looseness in my shoulders, like someone finally turned off the pressure valve in my neck. My jaw unclenches. My heartbeat slows. I take a deep breath, and for the first time in forever, it doesn’t feel like my lungs are carrying a thousand bricks.
“Okay,” I whisper, glancing down at the joint in my hand. “Maybe Elena’s onto something.”
The thought makes me snicker, and then I snicker again because the sound is so ridiculous. Before I know it, I’m giggling like a maniac, leaning against the railing as my reflection in the pool wobbles and stretches like it’s laughing with me.
My inner devil chooses this moment to appear, sitting smugly on my metaphorical shoulder, arms crossed.“Told you it wasn’t so bad,”it says.
The angel on the other shoulder is less impressed.“This is how people end up in those ‘Florida Woman’ news stories,”she snaps, wagging a tiny finger.“Get a grip, Bella.”
“Too late,” I say aloud, grinning like an idiot. I take a third drag, longer this time, because apparently, I’ve lost all sense of self-preservation.
