Fallen Angel

☼ CHAPTER TEN

☽ Luke

AMAL SENT US all to bed. She reassured JT — who looked pale and small in the shadow of Xavier's tall frame — that she'd take care of Blaire through the night. Off you go, she said, shooing us away with her latex-gloved hands, You look like the walking dead. I was happy to oblige; even my bones felt exhausted.

Now, JT, Xavier, and I part ways. I take the couch in the living room, Xavier takes the spare bedroom, and JT takes Amal's room. The barn isn't a barn so much as a barn house — the interior is fully furnished in a cozy, rustic theme. On the walls hang wood-framed family photos and a few canvas paintings. Upon closer inspection, I see the paintings are all signed by a cursive JT. I step back to fully marvel them. They're amazing. Truly impressive.

I sit down on the couch. Now that I'm alone, I don't feel tired. I know I should at least try to sleep, but I can't. The brown leather couch is almost too soft, and I sink down more than a few inches until I feel like I'm being swallowed whole. The feeling is all too familiar. I get up again, wandering aimlessly. I feel the need to stand when I'm sitting, and the need to sit when I'm standing. I close my eyes. I guess I don't know what I want.

The sky is getting lighter by the minute, almost imperceptibly. I hadn't realized how late we got here, but the once pitch black sky is now a softer blue. The stars will soon be going home, and I'm envious, I think.

I've never had a home.

Maybe I shouldn't be here, not with JT and the people from her new life. Maybe I'm not meant to be in both the Before and the After. Maybe JT is the moon and the stars, and I am just the night sky — a backdrop on which the real show takes place. A broken prop that makes everything else look better. The credits that roll as the audience filters out, unseeing, uncaring. I really shouldn't be here; after all, I make things worse. JT even said so. I could hear it in her tone. So I should go. I will go. Even if it means leaving her behind.

God, I'll never forget the sound of her crying.

The house is utterly silent as I make my way to the front door. Everyone else is already asleep and warm, tucked into their comfortable beds. I know JT and Amal are supposed to be sharing a bed, but I can't help but wonder if JT and Xavier are together at this moment. I'm not sure what sits in the pit of my stomach, but it might be akin to jealousy. They must be together. Dating, whatever. It's so painfully obvious.

I'm leaving. I can't stay here for another second. If I stay, I'll be swallowed alive. JT won't miss me. Blaire will be okay under Amal's care. I'll deal with the demon some other time. And Xavier... I can't even bring myself to think about him. Not when his death still weighs on me. Not when he's somehow still alive. Not when he's here, currently, in the same house as me. Living. Breathing. Heart pumping blood through his unfrozen veins. If I was an instrument in his death like all the Angels said, I can't stay here for a second longer.

The door creaks as it swings open, cool air rushing into the house. I step onto the porch, shutting the door behind me. Exhaustion plagues my eyes, my legs, my bones, but I can't turn back now. It's time for me to go. The porch railing beckons me over, and I walk over to it, propping my elbows up, dropping my chin in my hands. The sun continues its slow ascent, painting the sky purple. Its burnt orange light shoots streaks into the sky. Icarus would've loved this view.

I don't know how long I stay like that, listening to the cool breeze rustle the trees, but the sky is streaked with pink and baby blue when the door opens behind me. I don't turn to look back. I just wait.

Footsteps approach me. They meet me at the railing, mirroring my pose. They're tall, clad in a grey t-shirt, dark waves escaping from under an olive beanie. Xavier.