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I read the letter too many times, until I was certain there were no grammar errors, and the structure looked nice. However, the more I read it, the less I liked it and that annoyed me beyond words.
By the time the clock hit six in the morning, I folded the paper and put it into a pink envelope. I cussed myself for not getting another one beforehand, but this was last minute, and I had no time. If I had asked, Sierra would’ve gotten one for me, but I just know that once she sees the pink, she’ll refuse to get me a white one.
Sierra lived two blocks away from me, and since she’d been waiting for me to write this letter for a long time, she was in front of my door at eight in the morning. I’d barely slept at all and struggled to get out of bed.
It was most likely seasonal depression getting to me.
I’d been struggling with my mental health since I was a teenager, and that was how my passion for writing was born. It made everything easier. I had a vent where I could take out all my frustrations, my deepest and darkest secrets, and the best part? Readers thought it was a part of the plot, but it was actually a part of me.
A very vulnerable part of me that no one else had ever seen.
Sierra’s loud laughter filled my ears as soon as I handed her the envelope. Usually, I would’ve argued, but I was too tired. I was never an early bird, even less when I hadn't slept all night, because of some letter that I may or may not even get a response to.
After she picked it up, I returned to bed, only to be suddenly awoken by a phone call by Sierra, less than an hour after she went to send the letters.
‘‘What?’’ I grunted.
My eyes were still closed, and the phone was on my face. I had no strength in my arms to hold it physically and almost fell back asleep before she responded.
‘‘I might’ve done something,’’ she sounded apologetic.
That got me to open my eyes.
‘‘What did you do?’’
I sat up straight on my bed, hair messily falling on my face. With a few soft strokes, I got it out of my eyes, but winced in pain when I found a matted spot. No matter how much I brushed it, took care of it, used masks and oils — my hair got matted easily. I was almost ready to cut it all off.
‘‘Well, you know how I have signed copies of your books?’’ She laughed, nervously. ‘‘Well, I sent one with the letter.’’
‘‘You did what?’’ It was a mix of a scream and laughter — Mainly, it was disbelief.
‘‘I’m sorry!’’ she replied. ‘‘I didn’t actually think it through.’’
‘‘Which one did you send?’’
She swallowed harshly. ‘‘Sex Gods.’’
Out of all the books I’d written, she had to pick the filthiest, most plotless book in the existence of literature.
The premise of the book was very telling. A girl suddenly fell through a portal and found herself in the realm of gods. And she had sex. With every single one of them. And sometimes, she had sex with all of them at once.
I’d written about some sexual acts and positions I’d only seen in bad porno movies, and most of them came straight from my head. I was certain half of them weren’t even possible in real life.
Well, at least now I knew I definitely wouldn’t be getting a response back.
II
STORM
‘‘All right, everyone.’’ The detective clapped, grabbing all of our attention. ‘‘You’re not children, I don’t have to say to be careful. There are a few rules you’re expected to follow. If they try to talk to you, ignore them. Don’t hold eye contact, it will provoke them. And do not, by any circumstances, be the first ones to speak to them. Understood?’’
The room echoed with a “yes.”
Detective Miller was a man in his mid-fifties. He was our guide for the day. And a few days prior, we all got an email with the same rules he just told us to follow, with an explanation of the building and how their systems work.
In total, my group had ten people. I recognized two girls that I shared classes with during my senior year, but we weren’t close enough to even say hi to one another. The rest of them were strangers, and a lot of security was around.
It made me shiver, almost dropping the notebook and pen that I had with me.
