I want to laugh, but I can’t. The weight in my chest is bearing down too heavily for me to do anything other than breathe, and even that feels like a struggle. We sit on the couch, Ezra turning the card in his hands over and over again, trying to process everything I’ve just spewed at them. Talia’s arms are folded tightacross her chest, her thumb in her mouth as she bites at the skin along the side of her nail.
Then, with no warning, a vial appears on the table in front of us. Dark green, swirling with the faint shimmer that I’ve convinced myself is starlight. A note is tied to the neck in scrawled, angry ink:
Just fucking drink it, Daisy.
Ezra nearly jumps out of his skin. “Okay, what the actual fuck,” he gaps, grabbing the vial. “I thought you were bullshitting, but I just watched this appear out of nowhere. What is it?”
He sits, lifting up the bottle and inspecting it, scrunching up his face as he watches the liquid swirl around.
“A healing tonic,” I whisper. “He gave me one to… to prevent pregnancy,” I sniffle, the tears filling my eyes again. They both go deathly still. “I haven’t taken this one,” I add.
Talia’s eyes blaze. “Why?”
“Because I deserve to suffer,” I sob. “I didn’t fight. I didn’t stop him. I just—I just let him. And now he’s dead because of me.”
Talia loses it, her voice sharper than I’ve ever heard it. “No. No, fuck that, Daisy. You don’t get to do this to yourself. He raped you. That is NOT your fault. And if anyone says otherwise—hell, I’ll summon that bastard demon myself and thank him for what he did to Ethan. Then I’ll ask for a knife and do it again.”
Ezra is crying quietly beside me, but he doesn’t look at me like I’m broken, and I’m truly thankful for that. Talia pulls me into her arms, and I let her, despite the repulsion of feeling someone touch me and my broken, dirty body. I let her hold me, her strength wrapping around me like a shield, and I break all over again.
Later,Talia is the one who makes me drink the tonic. She holds the little bottle up to my lips and doesn’t move until I’ve swallowed every last drop. The warmth spreads inside me, like honey with an airy feeling to it. I don’t feel any instant miracle, no golden light shining through my body, or magical transformation. But the sting between my legs begins to dull, and the bruises on my body no longer seem to ache.
“There,” Talia whispers, brushing the hair from my face. “One less pain to carry.”
Ezra disappears into the kitchen, muttering under his breath as he furiously taps on his phone. He’s halfway through ordering three different types of takeout by the time Talia’s helping me into the bathroom. She doesn’t ask what I want or need; she just runs the water. I don’t flinch when she peels the devil costume from my skin with quiet, careful hands. She doesn’t ask any more questions, doesn’t look at me like I’m disgusting or broken. She just moves around me with a kind of gentleness that you’d reserve for shattered things.
“You’re safe,” she murmurs, guiding me into the shower. “You’re not alone.”
The tears come again, but this time, they feel different. They’re not just from pain—they’re from the weight lifting off me, piece by piece. I let the water pour down, washing away the remnants of what happened. When I step out, Talia’s there, a towel in hand, wrapping me up tightly.
Ezra’s waiting with clean clothes when I shuffle out—an oversized hoodie, sweatpants, and fluffy socks. He doesn’t say anything, just opens his arms and lets me fall into them. I quickly dress, then move to curl up between them on the couch,our food going cold on the coffee table whilst we sit there, lost in our shared quiet. Ezra turns on a dumb reality show we’ve seen a thousand times; the familiarity of it becomes a comfort, and I can’t help but smile faintly at the normality of it all.
“I ordered you groceries,” Ezra says quietly. “They’ll be here tomorrow. I made sure I picked out all of your favourites.”
I smile softly at him, thanking him with a gentle squeeze of his hand.
Later, just before dawn, we head outside. Talia has the devil costume in her hands, and we stand in the alley behind my apartment as she douses it in lighter fluid and tosses a match. It catches immediately, flames curling around the red fabric, slowly burning the cheap material to ash. We stand hand in hand, watching it burn together.
“Fuck him,” Talia says simply. “And fuck this costume.”
Amen to that.
They stay the night,the three of us wrapped on the pullout part of my couch in a nest of pillows and old blankets. When morning comes, they don’t want to leave. I can see it in their eyes that they’re afraid I’ll break the second they go. But I insist.
“You need to go to class,” I murmur, my voice rough. “I’ll be okay. I just… I need a week to breathe.”
Ezra hugs me so tightly it knocks the air from my lungs. “You call us for anything. Groceries, murder, emotional support—anything!”
Talia grabs my face in both hands. “If you need me to come back and read Korithax the riot act, I will. I don’t care if he’s a demon or the Prince of Hell. I bite.” She gnashes her teeth together for added effect before winking at me.
I laugh. It’s hoarse and broken, but genuine and real. “I believe you.”
They both give me one more hug and then they leave, and I’m all alone again. This time, it doesn’t feel so heavy, and the silence doesn’t suffocate me. I’m still broken, but with a little part of me put slightly back together again by the two people who mean the most to me in the world.
Chapter 12
Korithax
She didn’t take the fucking tonic.
