Breathe out, count to five…
Slowly and deliberately, I force myself to walk back to the stranger in the mirror.
I know I’m only delaying the inevitable. I have a feeling that even Raphael wouldn’t be able to make these changes disappear, just like he couldn’t help my still-pounding headache.
Maybe I shouldn’t want to, either.
This stranger is who I am now, and I need to make my peace with that. She is an evolution of who I once was, a testament to what I accomplished. I practically died, after all, and somehow forced my dead body to take back a foreign soul. That is perseverance. A month-long nap, some scarification, and forever looking like I’m wearing bad colored contacts is a small price to pay for my survival.
If my shadow intends for me to wear this brand like a battle scar, then so be it.
I’ll just have to learn to like this new version of myself.
29
“This is the best shower ever,” I groan, standing in the streaming hot water for far longer than necessary. Despite the fact that I may appear clean, there is something especially soothing about bathing myself after everything. To breathe in the steam. Breathe out my troubles.
When I get out, though, I’m just as restless as before.
My head is still pounding as I dry and braid my hair, moving slowly to minimize the pain. By the time I’m done, it’s not quite early enough for dinner, and there’s only so much time I can spend staring at my weird irises in the mirror.
Eventually, I decided to just embrace it.
At least I fit in with the rest of the angels now, with their creepy, unnatural eyes. And I’m a lady, too, so I can play it up with makeup. Make it look more intentional. A bit of gold dust along the lids, some sharp black eyeliner, an extra dose of drama… The contrast, as it turns out, creates a stunning effect. Very goddess-like.
I step back and look myself over in my ornate, full-length mirror.
Dare I say it, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt prettier. Even with the bulky, unearned muscles and disturbing scarification, it all comes together, somehow. I might even be in love with myself.
All I need is a good dress, and I’ll be unstoppable.
I venture over to the more formal side of my wardrobe, skimming my hands along the fabrics until I find the perfect one. It’s a glistening, black, silky material, and it feels absolutely divine as I slip it over my skin. With a V-shaped, plunging neckline, it also grants the world a good view of my new scar. Which is fine, I tell myself. I’m making a debut of it.
But fuck high heels. They don’t pay me enough for that.
In a nice, comfy pair of flats, I make my way down to the castle. Mymuscles are definitely weak from underuse, and I almost slip down the stairs, but I do eventually make it there in one piece… only to find myself hesitating outside the dining hall.
An abundance of commotion is coming from within the room. Laughter, even. My brain struggles to process it; I don’t think anything in the Abyss has ever sounded so lively before. And they must have started dinner early, too, which means I wasted a whole bunch of time for no damn reason.
I’m cranky, starving, and now fashionably late to the apparentpartyI have to attend with a throbbing headache. Already off to a great start.
Pushing the doors open, I don’t even consider mentally preparing myself for the shocking sight of so many angels. The sheer quantity of them sitting together is startling, giving me pause. Almost every seat is occupied, with all kinds of new faces and a rainbow of wing colors. There are women in the mix, too. About damn time.
At the furthest end of the table, I spy a chair open next to Abaddon, presumably reserved for me. But it’s the opposite end, the one closest to me, that really catches my attention.
There’s a face I would have been content to never see again—and he stares at me, intensely, from the moment I enter the room.
Touching my hand to the star over my chest, I do my best to summon my pride. Would my soul’s shadow want me acting like a little bitch in front of Michael? No, no it would not.
I begin to move towards my seat, and…shit.
The room loses all of its colorful noise in an instant, all eyes turning towards me.
It’s obvious that I need to appear confident. So painfully obvious. They look at me with nosy curiosity, wondering about the girl who transcended her humanity. I cannot show weakness now. My only option is to fake it until I make it, yet again.
You should be looking at me. I am a goddess. Be envious.
I float by, my dress swaying with each step, and slide into my chair.
