cupid clearly hates me.

[ 39 ]

You and Mary reappeared in hell...

...but something was off.

When you popped into the scene, the first thing that caught your gaze was the demon standing before you.

Why?

Because it was Alastor.

He was smiling, but it wasn't his usual grin. His lips were strained, like he was fighting hard to keep them parted.

And one of his eyes was dripping with blood, having been sliced by a few small bits of glass. Glass from his monocle, which was shattered, sitting on his cheek as nothing more than the outer golden ring that used to hold the lens in place.

Did that mean... what you thought it meant?

He was staring right at you, but his features showed no recognition of your face. The first thought that popped into your head was: did he forget about me?

You stood stock-still for a moment, mulling over your thoughts and further examining Alastor's face—the face you had longed to see for what felt like forever—then you found yourself taking a step forward. Then another. Then—

"Oof," you mumbled as your nose smacked into something.

"Watch your step."

You took a step back, stunned for a moment. Not even bothering to rub your nose, you searched the air in front of you, wondering what exactly you had run into. There was nothing there, just empty space.

It didn't take long for you to figure out what was going on. Alastor wasn't looking at you—he was looking through you, which meant that you weren't really in hell. And he hadn't forgotten about you after all, he just couldn't see you like you could see him. You were watching what was happening, but you couldn't interact.

It was like Mary had put your old reality into a movie and forced you to watch it for her own twisted enjoyment.

"Can I talk to him?" you rushed, stepping forward again and pressing your hands up against the glassy edge. You were so desperate, that you were ready to get on your knees and beg for Mary to let you out.

"I'm sorry, but you cannot," she said quietly, almost sadly. "But you can listen. I think this may be important for you to hear."

Then, as if Mary had pressed play on the movie, Alastor began to speak.

"Well, I'm quite sure that she thought I was her! I played the part quite well." He paused to adjust his bowtie, snickering lightly. It, too, seemed forced. The laugh, not the bowtie adjustment. "I must admit, it was hard for me. But it had to be done."

"So... let me get this straight," a voice began from behind you. You recognized it, and quickly whirled around to see who it was.

Charlie.

Standing to her left was Vaggie, looking as unimpressed and sassy as always. On Charlie's right was Angel Dust, the rude prostitute who had made you cry that one day that felt like years ago. "You... pretended to be my mom by pretending to be yourself?"

"Yes."

"How?" Vaggie quipped.

You turned back around to face Alastor. "I simply said the things that she would say, which meant saying the things that I would not. That part wasn't hard," he said, making a waving gesture with his hand. "The hard part was... hurting her."

"So why did you hurt her?"

You turned back on Vaggie. Her one eye was wide, and her hair was more tousled than it had been moments ago. Someone must have messed it up while you were looking at Alastor.