FINAL GATE (#3 GHOST PORTAL series)

ONE

Avery Boomer wasn't one for positivity. Not that he was a depressed guy with a brooding frown and walked around kicking at rocks and grumbling; he just knew better than to have high hopes. He knew better than to expect something good from this world, especially after all it had done to shove him down. And while he usually had no issue maintaining a smile and putting on a show to pretend like he was all right, he wasn't certain he'd ever be able to do that again. Not anymore.

Fuck this life, man.

On the drive back from Nevada, he was as far from positivity as he'd ever been. Sure, he'd potentially saved the world, but at what cost? Amy was dead. Jamie was dead—murdered. And Jessamine was...

He sniffled, gripping the steering wheel tighter, his fingers growing stiff, sore. Thinking of Jessamine was the worst part of it all. The emotions swelling in him about her; the guilt, the betrayal, the hatred, the feelings. Every time her face flashed inside his mind—in her regular, barista-beauty form, or her dark demonic version—he gritted his teeth and willed the car to progress faster. To roll onward, to go at such a velocity that he could no longer see anything around him. But mostly, to give more distance between him and the portal where he'd pushed her to her demise.

He'd had no choice. It was that, or kill her. And there was no way would kill her, even after what she'd done, even after—

Without meaning to, without wanting to, he glimpsed the rearview mirror. The covered lump in the backseat hadn't moved, courtesy of Ada's magic. She'd immobilized it and make sure it remained concealed at all times, to not distract Avery. He was grateful; if the blanket had shifted and showed Jamie's face, his dead eyes, his bluing lips, the dried blood on his neck, Avery would have had to pull the car over and hurl his guts out on the side of the road. And he wasn't positive he'd be able to get back behind the wheel after that.

He'd already contemplated stopping to throw up several times, but he had nothing to regurgitate. All he'd do was hack out his lungs and take deep gulps of the dry Nevada air, hoping it'd sear through him, rip his emotions out. Maybe rip him out, so he no longer had to think.

He shook his head, knowing full well he wouldn't have been able to stop, anyway. Ada and Faz had settled inside him, insisting he'd need them to get home safely. "You aren't in the best state of mind," Faz had reminded, in his gentle, annoyingly soothing tone. "We can take control whenever you need us to, and it'll allow you to relax, to rest," Ada had added, her timbre far from as reassuring.

There'd be no relaxing, no resting, Avery was certain. Not for a long time, if ever. If it'd been up to him, he'd have stayed in that portal's basement, crying until he had no liquid left in his being. Cajoling Jamie's body while praying to some god he didn't believe in, begging for his friend to revive. He'd have tried again and again to wrench that damn door open, screaming for Jessamine, to bring her back. He'd have battered Ada with questions and demanded that she go fetch Jamie's soul and bring it the hell back, that she heal his wounds, that she save him.

But the demon door wouldn't open again, ever. Not if Ada had her way, and not if Avery wanted the world to remain safe. That door lead to doom, despair. To death. To open it again would unleash that death, and Avery had dealt with enough of it already.

And Jamie's soul... he hadn't needed to ask Ada to know for sure. Jamie was gone, long gone. On to another dimension of peace, or potentially wandering Limbo. Regardless, he was in a better place than here.

Avery didn't want Ada and Faz inside him. He didn't want anything inside him, ever again. Hadn't he stopped the demon invasion? Didn't he deserve some respite after all he'd gone through? Why did these damned Guides need to keep bothering him? He'd done everything they asked, and lost a shit-ton for it. They should have quit pestering him by now.