Page 2 of Sorrow & Strangers

“It doesn’t feel right. None of this feels right,” I whisper, having to force the words out.

Alice’s worried gaze hovers over me as I move deeper into the room and look around, welcoming the house’s grief, allowing it to merge with my own. My gaze is drawn to a framed photograph on the bureau, and the sadness eclipses me as I meet Connor’s blue eyes. I lift the photo and a sob lodges in my throat as I glide my thumb over him. A pained whimper tears from me, and I crumble completely, falling to my knees. I hug his image to my chest, desperate to feel like he’s here, like he’s holding me. Arms wrap around me, but they’re not his strong ones. Alice holds me fiercely, as if she can piece the shattered parts of me back together with sheer will. Sobs explode from me, my heart breaking all over again.

I have no idea how long we sit there on the floor, both of us crying into each other, but after minutes, hours, days, the tears run dry, and I end up lying on the floor, my head in Alice’s lap as she strokes my hair softly and hums a lullaby. This has been our norm for months. Alice pulls cushions and a blanket from the couch and gets us both comfortable, careful to always maintain contact with me. It’s as if she knows that without the grounding of her touch, I might just decide to float away. Eventually, everything turns black.

The damp scent of the cave burns my nose, the ropes painfully chafing against my wrists and ankles. The blindfold is ripped from my face, and light sears my eyes. Then she is there in front of me, her catlike smile wide and menacing.

She plays with me, toys with me for hours. Every pierce of her blade is agony, my body unable to forget the pain, but that is not the root of the terror. That comes when he appears at the mouth of the cave . . . Connor.

“No! Get out! She’s going to kill you!” The scream rips from my throat, the horror clawing down my spine.

Nothing helps, nothing changes it, and I scream and scream, trying to drown out the wet, sickening noise as she plunges the dagger into⁠—

“Summer! Summer, it’s okay. I’m here.”

My shoulders shake from some sort of invisible force, and I frown at the sound of Alice’s voice echoing in the cave.

“Summer! Summer, it’s okay. I’m here.” Alice’s insistent voice pierces the nightmare, yanking me out of it. I open my eyes to find her over me, gripping my shoulders. Her worried gaze bores into me, and her claws sink into my skin as she shakes me.

The ghost of the terror is still there, still lingering, but then the sadness slams into me, shoving it into oblivion. The weight of that never-ending sorrow eclipses everything.

“I’m here,” Alice says again, loosening her hold on me to cup my cheek. She looks tired, exhausted. How long have we slept? Why does exhaustion still claw at my bones?

The sunlight streams through the windows, filling the room with a happy golden glow, but it’s a lie. It’s all a lie.

“We have an assembly,” Alice says, still watching me with concern. She glances at the clock on the mantel. “In just under an hour.”

I’m not sure what’s worse: spending more time in this house, which is the embodiment of grief, or starting this school year. This year was always going to be different. Connor would have graduated over the summer. He would have been an archangel with a Legion, but we would be married, and he would be living here with me. He would come home at the end of the day. I shouldn’t have come back, but I made a promise to Connor. I promised, and I had already failed him in every other way.

I nod and wordlessly push myself from the floor. Alice follows behind me as I head upstairs to shower. She said Connor’s room had remained untouched, but it didn’t prepare me for seeing his name messily etched on the door, the room frozen in time.

My eyes dart away, and I turn to walk to Rafe’s old room, which is my room now. I don’t even take in the decor, going straight to the bathroom. I turn on the shower, and as soon as I’ve removed my clothes, I step in. The water is freezing. Good, I don’t deserve warmth. I deserve this freezing cold nothingness. I scrub at my skin, even now able to feel Connor’s blood clinging to me, haunting me, taunting me.

Your fault. Your fault. Your fault.

When the chant gets louder, I slam my palm against the shower wall before turning the water off. I step out and wrap a towel around me. When I walk back into the bedroom, it’s harder to ignore all the details. Nothing of Rafe remains in here, and it has a very similar vibe to my old dorm room. Several of the items that used to decorate my room are here, including the Polaroids Alice took during our first year. I walk to the closet, unsurprised to find my uniforms hanging in there. I brush my fingers over them, remembering the first time I put one on. It was the first time I felt like I might belong. How stupid I was.

I choose a uniform at random and dress by muscle memory. It drapes on me. I’ve lost all the curves it once clung to over the last three months. I can’t even bear to look at myself in the mirror, knowing my frail, hollow frame will make me cringe. My gaze locks on the high heels I used to wear to make it easier to reach Connor’s lips, and the memory makes me ache.

Alice knocks on the door and then peeks around it. I glance at her in the mirror and see a glimpse of my broken body. I’ve tried to hide it as much as possible with thick tights and a large hoodie, but it’s obvious I’m nothing like I was.

“Ready?” Alice asks. There is no surprise in her expression at my appearance. This is what she’s seen for months now.

I nod, turning to face her.

She holds out her hand, a small muffin resting on her palm. “Made this for you.” My stomach curdles at the thought, but I take it as I walk past her. I don’t eat it, and Alice doesn’t expect me to. She’s started cooking and baking every day, anything and everything, trying to get me to eat something. It hasn’t worked yet, but she still tries.

Together, we leave the house and walk toward Manananggal Hall.

The last time I made this walk, it was with the headmaster as he pretended to be Connor. People stared and whispered because my best friend was murdered, or so they thought. This time, they stare and whisper because my fiancé was murdered. Before, I had to act broken and devastated. This time, it is not an act. I am a glass vase that has been thrown against a marble floor.

I keep my eyes on the ground, taking comfort in Alice’s arm around me. The only things keeping me upright are the ice encasing my heart and a best friend who refuses to give up on me. We walk in silence, the whispers a cacophony, but I block them out. They can talk all they want.

Alice guides me into one of the back rows of the auditorium and tugs me into the seat next to her. I am vaguely aware of Alice hissing at someone, but I keep my gaze on my lap, pulling at the sleeve of my sweater and trying to hold back tears with every fraction of strength I have left.

The entire room goes completely silent, but I feel the tendrils of his power brushing against me before I hear his footsteps as he makes his way to the middle of the stage.

“Normally,” the deep, rumbling voice of Headmaster Emrys begins, “when I take to the stage at the beginning of each year, I tell you that this is the place where you can be different. You can be who you are meant to be. That nothing you’ve been told since birth is true. Yet everything is different this year, and that is because of Connor Azrael Morningstar.”