Through The Abyss

JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY

The next morning arrived with a familiar headache and a dull sense of dread. The girls shuffled around the resort like zombies, each nursing their hangover in their own way. Whitney was sprawled on the couch, sipping on a massive bottle of water while moaning softly. Delila, still half-asleep, was curled up in a blanket, barely moving. Vivienne was in the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face with a determined look that said she was trying to wash away both the hangover and the shame of the previous night.

I went through my usual routine with a kind of mechanical precision, trying to push past the pounding in my head. After a long shower and a strong coffee, I managed to put on one of the outfits Kristen had bought for me—a modest, green gown that was as vibrant as my mood was not. The outfit was both comforting and distracting, making me feel somewhat put-together despite the chaos of the night before.

As we prepared to leave the resort, we all gathered in the living room and swore an oath—never to speak of the chaos, the games, or Layla's shocking admission. Our pact was followed by a collective laugh. The kind of secrecy we now shared seemed to strengthen our bond even more.

We arrived at church and sat together, our hangovers still evident. We whispered and giggled at the smallest things— the way the choir's harmonies occasionally faltered, or the odd shoes and outfits some attendees decided to wear.

As I looked around at my friends, I was struck by how much I had come to enjoy their company. Initially, I had found them to be a bit too righteous and annoying, each one fitting into their own ideal mold. But now, I saw another side of them—a side that was fun, genuine, and understanding. They knew when to be serious, but they also knew how to let loose and enjoy themselves. It was surprising how quickly things had changed and how much I had come to care about these girls.

I felt a warmth spreading inside me, a feeling of belonging and acceptance. The bonds we'd built in one day felt real and solid, and I wanted them to last.

As the sermon started and the room grew quieter. The pastor took to the pulpit with a serene presence, his voice resonating through the space as he spoke about being true to oneself. His sermon was a comforting embrace for the soul, urging everyone to accept their flaws, love themselves unconditionally, and live according to their morals and values as children of Christ.

He spoke of the importance of embracing one's imperfections as part of God's design, encouraging the congregation to see themselves through a lens of compassion and understanding.

As he delivered his message, the choir's harmonious voices filled the room with a celestial quality. They began with the Our Father prayer, their voices weaving together in a breathtaking harmony.

Next came Gracefully Broken.

Finally, the choir performed I Smile, a song that radiated joy and hope. The upbeat tempo and uplifting lyrics provided a refreshing burst of positivity, making everyone's spirits rise in unison. It felt like a celebration of life's simple, beautiful moments, and the energy in the room was palpable.

But as beautiful as the music was, my attention kept drifting to the drummer. Elijah was seated at the drum set, his presence commanding the stage in a way that was both effortless and magnetic. His concentration was evident in the way he moved, his every beat contributing to the seamless blend of melodies.

I found myself mesmerized by his performance, unable to tear my eyes away. The way his fingers danced across the drumsticks, the way his body seemed to sway in sync with the rhythm—it was hypnotic.

As the congregation began to disperse, I glanced around, still basking in the afterglow of the ceremony. But then, I spotted something that made my heart skip a beat. There, in the midst of the departing crowd, was Penn wrapped up in an embrace with Elijah.