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To be fair, there was still blood seeping out of it, so that might not be helping.

Also, if I had to classify my mental state, it would be—depressed, with a smidge (immense amount) of anxiety.

“You’re probably just a little messed up in the head.” Nyx sighed heavily. “Honestly—I always thought it was weird that you could talk to me.”

I reeled back. “And you didn’t say anything?”

Nyx tightened around my neck. “Well, I’m saying something now.”

“Nine years later,” I said indignantly.

The table shook from the force of the thrusts occurring in the adjacent booth, and the siren sobbed harder on my lap.

I grimaced as I patted her head.

This is getting weird.

“Uh—madam, do you need anything?” I asked the siren. “Water, a shirt? Pants?”

Watery pastel eyes peered up at me. “I’m good. Thank you for caring about me. You’re so gracious and beautiful.”

I made a face.

“What is she saying to you?” Nyx asked curiously.

“That I’m—gracious, and beautiful?”

“Hmmm,” Nyx said skeptically. “Are yousureyou can understand her?”

I slapped at her, but she dodged. “I’m pretty sure,” I said. “I know when someone is telling me I’m beautiful—it doesn’t happen often.”

“Is this a cry for help?” Nyx asked. “Are you not coping well?”

I didn’t respond.

A smile split my cheeks wide.

This was really happening.

Laughter exploded from my lips.

I’m not powerless.

Tears of happiness streamed down my face.

I will never be powerless ever again. I know what I am.

Happiness shimmered inside my soul, and I hugged Nyx tight, kissing her invisible head as she struggled.

This was just the beginning.

“Want to play a game?” the siren asked as she abruptly lifted off my lap, still crying as she spoke, which was very relatable.

I opened my mouth to say no, then remembered I had nothing to lose. I was here, and I was powerful.

“Sure,” I said, and we grinned at each other. “I’ll play.”

The pianist missed a key.