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I jog to my SR 101—Soul Reaper 101—class with Mr. Rickman. I’m a little late because of a short and quick meeting I had with the dean and my father the next day for punching people. My father asked me for more information, but what was I supposed to say?
A kid I’ve adored my whole life said I’m nothing to him and I am weak. His words played in my head over and over and I was unable to sleep last night.
So, I kept my mouth shut. It’s over and done with.
Mr. Rickman looks up at me when I walk in, and I hand over the pass. “Take a seat,” he orders, handing over a piece of paper that the class was working on.
The only chair available is next to Khazon. Miya isn’t here. My eyes find Amos and she mouths sorry, as if she did anything wrong. I take the seat next to him.
Sitting next to him reminds me that I am weaker than he will ever be. It reminds me of what he did to show he was stronger.
“Asura. Listen,” Khazon starts.
I send him a glare before turning my attention back to Mr. Rickman.
“We were talking about how sometimes the setting can change how you collect souls or take down enemies. One being, if you were stationed in Hell, you have to watch out for Hell Storms.” His eyes move to me. “Not many have been in Hell before, care to explain a Hell Storm?”
I feel like in a way this is punishment. Standing, I turn to the class. “Every few months, the…magic and Soul Reaper’s of Hell get overwhelmed. Think of it as…a toothpaste tube with the lid on and someone is stepping on it. It’s bound to just explode. Hell does that. The storms vary from toxic clouds to fiery rain.”
“How do you avoid it?” a purple demon asks.
I shrug. “My father set up things that record the air, and when one is about to happen, everyone in Hell knows about it. I’ve experienced it maybe a million times…” I remember the first time I was a child in Hades’ garden with Ozzy. He knew the sirens, but we were too far from his house to make it. He and I spent the night in a tree stump, with me bawling my eyes out. “You go inside, and you stay inside until the alarms tell you to come out.” I explain when I come back to reality.
“How come it doesn’t happen in Shadow World?” a girl asks.
I look at Rickman. I know the answer. I could teach them everything I know about Hell, but I didn’t feel like it anymore. While I sit, Rickman goes on to explain how Hell runs on souls more than the Shadow World. After class, I stand quickly to get away from Khazon, but he grabs my wrist to pull me back.
“I’m sorry for what I said.”
I pull from his grasp as the room begins to empty. “So that gives you the right to talk to me how you did? Your friend?”
“You left,” he snaps in a low tone.
“I’ve been your best friend for eighteen years; if I could have stayed, I would have,” I snap right back.
His dark brows pull together. “What do you mean? Were you forced?”
My eyes scan his face. His dark eyes are filled with concern. His dark hair is the longest it’s ever been but it’s still short against his forehead in curls. I always told him to grow out his hair, but he never had the courage to.
Everything in my body wants to forgive him and tell him the truth about what’s been going on. Why I’m truly here. No matter how I feel toward him now, won’t change the fact that if I tell him, he will think Hell falls because of my shitty reign. That’s the last thing on my list.
“Don’t act like you care now, Death,” I mutter, grabbing my stuff and leaving the room.
Amos finds me out of nowhere in the hall, grabbing my arm. “What did he say?”
“Tried to say sorry.”
She sighs. “I’m sorry. I know how close you two were.”
I shrug.
She bumps me. “So… you left with Ledger and Hazen and never came back to class.”
A smile spreads across my lips.
Amos bounces so hard her blonde hair follows. “No fucking way… You had both?”
“Is that a bad thing?”
