The Demon's Half

Chapter 9

Mia's birthday came and passed and I couldn't move at all that day. Not even to eat.

The filth, the hunger, the stench, it was all gone. Now, the sheets I slept in smelled of lavender instead of mildew. My clothes were fresh, and my skin soft, perfumed with a delicate fragrance I'd found in my dresser. The walls weren't cracked, the floors didn't creak. Even the attic was quiet.
It was heaven. But without Mia it felt like hell.

I ate just enough to function and fell into bed as soon as I got home. But every night, I'd curl up and cry. Loneliness was my second skin ever since my mom left. I had made it easy for everyone to forget me. I let calls from friends go unanswered, pushing them away until their efforts to reach me faded into silence.

Each morning, I jolted awake, my lungs clawing for air. The nightmares were a deepening curse, a frantic, blind struggle where Mia's need for me was the only thing I could grasp. Yet I was always too late... Carajo, I couldn't even help her in my own damned dreams.

Today, I woke up from the same nightmare, drenched in sweat. A cup of tea sat on my nightstand. Still steaming. It hadn't been there before. I inhaled, hmm, smelled like chamomile. I knew he was lingering, so it was probably poisoned.
If I was going to die, it would be under my own terms, so I hurled the cup at the wall. It shattered on impact, tea splattering across the ground.

Then, a bottle of tequila appeared on my nightstand. And I wasn't sure whether to laugh or scream. My fingers curled around the bottle. Maybe he was making fun of me.
I didn't care.
I tipped the bottle back, letting the burn scorch its way down my throat.

And for the first time in so many nights—
The nightmares stayed quiet.

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Saturday was a predator stalking my calendar, and I was its frantic prey. The eviction notice from my landlord was pretty much a death sentence for my stability. The grim alternatives, a slum or the streets, were all I could think about.

I was in the back of the coffee shop, up to my elbows in soapy water. I had to be fast since it was the first of the month, which meant: free coffee for the homeless. Needless to say, the place was packed. Jessica poked her head behind my shoulder.

"Morgan? Someone's here for you," she said.

Por favor, don't be him.
I barely nodded in response, grabbing a dish towel to dry my hands.
I stepped into the front of the café. The line went all the way to the entrance. Verga. At least the smell of coffee and butter was nice. Conversations hummed in the background. Someone laughed. A spoon clinked against ceramic.
And I saw her.
Elena.
Thank the gods.

She sat at the first table by the window, sipping her tea. She looked exactly the same. Calm, serene. Dark skin, curly black hair pulled into a loose bun, streaks of white scattered through it. And her clothes: white. Always white.

"Elena." I rushed to her side, wrapping my arms around her. She smelled like sage and incense.

"My goodness, child. You've lost weight," she pulled back just enough to study me. "Please, sit with me. Your boss has already given you fifteen minutes."

Carly? The same Carly who once chewed me out for taking an extra thirty seconds on my break? The same Carly who hated the first of the month, because she needed extra people? Odd.