Page 47 of Against All Odds

I stayed silent for a beat. Part of me just wanted to give up and accept my fate. I was exhausted, beaten, defeated – and as much as the thought of the lower realm terrified me, maybe it was time to embrace the inevitable.

And yet, there was one thing stopping me. Not the thought of redemption – deep down, I already knew I had hurt so many people, saving one single soul couldn’t make up for that.

“No.” The word left me without realizing. Jurrian’s eyebrows shot up – my answer surprised him as much as it did me. I straightened my back and repeated, more firmly: “No, I’m not ready to go to the lower realm. There’s something I have to set right.”

“Alright.” He gave a slow nod, brows furrowing. He probably thought I was doing this out of fear, and I let him, because it was easier than telling him the truth. I couldn’t tell him that I had learned to do what he couldn’t – communicate with my assignment.

I saw my own guilt mirrored in Jurrian’s tear-stained eyes, and I knew that if I left Raya like this, its weight would burn worse than any hellfire. Just like he couldn’t live with himself knowing he’d let a young girl grow up without her parents, I couldn’t live with myself knowing the last thing I’d done was yell at an addicted girl.

“Go set it right.” He gave a nod before stepping back, and his next words – barely audible – made me question what little certainty I had left. “Be quick. There may not be much time left.”

Chapter 21.

Raya

We need to talk.

Can you meet me in the University cafeteria, Monday at 12?

Kyle’s text the morning after the disaster turned my stomach. I tried convincing him to just tell me over the phone, but he insisted we should talk in person.

And so, anxiety added to my heartbreak and hangover that made this the worst Sunday ever. More than ever, I craved something to take the edge off – but something told me showing up wasted would make matters worse, if that was even possible. Plus, I’d already burned through my money again, and I wouldn’t dare steal from Pascal’s supply another time. Seren had saved me, probably more times than I knew, but now she was gone, too – as if she had never existed.

On the dreaded day, Kyle and I sat opposite each other in the canteen that had finally reopened since the sewage accident. Despite the thorough sanitizing and air purification, the canteen still smelled faintly of bleach and shit, and everyone avoided sitting directly beneath where the sewage break had happened. I was nervously twirling the hair tie around my wrist while he looked everywhere but at me.

I already knew no good would come from this meeting. The twist in my gut told me as much, as did the regretful look in his eyes.

He cleared his throat. “Do you remember what happened Saturday?”

I bit my lip, lowering my eyes. It was not the first time hearing these words from his mouth. When I still lived with Rebekah and the girls, our Sunday conversations started like this more often than not. Back then, he had mostly asked me with a twinkle in his eyes, lips tightly pressed together as he tried not to laugh. And I’d demand to know with a sigh and an eye roll, and we’d laugh together about how I picked a fight with the bartender, stole random people’s drinks, threw up just outside the bar, or that one time when I spent an hour yelling at Parker about why he wasn’t good enough for Rebekah. Though these conversations always ended on a serious note, with him telling me I really needed to stay off the alcohol next time.

Now, it was different. No smiles, no jokes.

I shook my head, a lump forming in my throat. “It’s a bit of a blur.”

“Figured so.” Kyle sighed. “Well, do you want to know?”

“Not necessarily, but I have a feeling you’re about to tell me anyway.”

“Alright.” He started playing with the straw in his frappuccino before finally looking at me. “Well, at first, it wasn’t so bad. After your first few glasses, you became more relaxed. Giggled a lot. Told Marya repeatedly how pretty she was, and me how glad you were to be my friend, and how happy we looked together.”

I nodded slowly. That sounded like classic tipsy me – I was always like that at first. Unfortunately, I never managed to stick to tipsy.

“But as the evening progressed, things got worse.” He grimaced. “You were on your fourth or fifth glass when your mood flipped – like always, the switch was pretty sudden. One of my friends gently asked you if you should really have another one – especially since you said you wouldn’t drink at the beginning of the evening.” He paused, disapproval written all over his face. “Well, you looked like you were about to beat him up. Cursed him out and told him to mind his own business.” He exhaled sharply. “But that wasn’t all.”

I grimaced. Once again, checked out. I knew my drunk shadow self better than anyone – not from memory, but from the stories the day after. The pattern was always the same, and I knew the worst was yet to come.

Kyle took a deep breath, his grip tightening on his glass – this couldn’t be easy for him, either. “Well, we were queuing for Catchphrase when things really went south. I almost saw the shift on your face, like you suddenly remembered you shouldn’t be there. You tried to convince me to go to a different place, but wouldn’t tell me why. I figured you didn’t want to run into Rebekah, but—”

“I don’t give a fuck about Rebekah,” I interrupted, firmer than intended. “But after I got banned the first time, I made the mistake of showing up again, and they threatened to call the police. I should’ve told you, but I was embarrassed. I’m sorry.”

It was the truth. Looking back, I couldn’t even remember what was so special about Rebekah – maybe my mind had turned her into something she wasn’t. Unfortunately, my previous longing for her was now directed at a semi-celestial being with a criminal past, who may have been just a figment of my unstable mind. Either way, Seren didn’t want to see me now. It was better not to think of her, because when I allowed the thoughts in for even one moment, they tore into my heart like glass splinters entering soft flesh. Too soft. Way too soft. The metal harness I pretended to wear around my soul was nothing more than a fleeting illusion that shattered the moment someone looked at me wrong.

“Whatever.” Kyle’s irritated voice brought me back to reality. “Anyway, Marya asked you – calmly – what your problem was, and you accused her of being jealous.” The corner of his mouth twitched, and the disgust on his face made me want to throw up what little food I'd forced down my throat this morning. “You tried to reassure her, I guess, but in doing so, you made everything worse. You told her that you and I had made out a couple times when we were drunk – but you insisted you only did it to make Rebekah jealous, and you never had any romantic or sexual interest in me.” His scowl turned into a glare. “Mind you, I had not told Marya about that – not because it was a secret, but it just seemed irrelevant to share my entire sexual history with her in such an early stage of our dating.”

I squeezed my eyes shut in embarrassment. I vaguely remembered thinking I shouldn’t bring it up, but clearly, that was earlier in the evening – before my shadow self took over. Her actions always seemed the opposite of what I wanted. “Kyle, I’m so sorry.”

“Well, Marya obviously wasn’t pleased to find out like that.” His jaw clenched. “And then you suggested we solve this by…” He sighed, “…having a threesome.”