Page 23

Chapter 22

Selestina

M y stomach growls, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since yesterday. So engrossed in studying after Nazriel's interruption, I stayed up till well past midnight. Nasarea had come in, scrunched her nose in my direction, headed to shower, and went to bed. She still can't figure out how to kick me out of our room. It’s oddly satisfying the amount that pisses her off.

I can’t stop thinking about the shadows. Did I dream that? I don’t understand what is happening to me. Is this connected to when I woke up in that morgue? Everything points to me not being a human, but I would have manifested my powers if I were a demonio much sooner than now.

Lost in thought, I reach for a plate of scrambled eggs and chocolate chip pancakes. There is a bowl of fresh fruit I grab too, along with a mug of steaming coffee.

I sit in the corner of the hall, noticing people around me. They are deep in conversation. Groups of friends scattered everywhere, some laughing loudly, others speaking in hushed tones as if sharing some sort of secrets. It's nice, seeing that kind of connection, a sense of belonging. I have never experienced that.

Not really.

I sigh and fidget with my eggs. I know better than to want anything like that, but watching them, these people, these students with their normal lives, I wondered what it would be like to have it too, to be able to trust someone without constantly waiting for the knife in my back.

I take a bite of my pancake, chewing slowly, lost in thought.

I guess, deep down, I do want that. Even though I've convinced myself it's not for me, the truth is, I've always wanted it. To be part of something bigger than just…surviving. To have someone care about me, not because they need me, but because they want to.

But it's not me. Not with the blood on my hands.

I am just about to take another bite when, out of nowhere, a cold splash of liquid hits me hard. Instant shock courses through me, my body going stiff as the orange juice pours down my head into my hair, face, and clothes.

“What the fuck.” I gasp, blinking through the sticky mess. My tray clatters as I push it away, half rising, trying to figure out what just happened, my hand on the hilt of my hidden dagger.

Then I hear her. Evaline. Her voice is shrill, cutting through the din of the dining hall as everyone's attention snaps to us.

“Nazriel told me how you forced a kiss on him and how he kept pushing you away, you freaking freak!”

Her words are like a slap, and I stand frozen, orange juice dripping from my hair and pooling around my feet. My heart pounds in my chest, anger fucking hot and sharp. Of course, Nazriel spun the story in his favor. And Evaline, ever the loyal puppet, eats it up without question.

I swipe at the juice running down my face with the back of my hand. The room blurs as I scan it, a sea of eyes all waiting for my reaction. Some are snickering, others wide eyed with curiosity, and few even looked uncomfortable, like they knew Evaline was out of line but didn't have the guts to say anything. Everyone acts like we're in high school and not all grown fucking adults here.

Great, just what I needed this morning. A public humiliation to start the day.

I stand there, pretty much covered in orange juice, while the words hang in the air like something sour. My mind races with trying to figure out what I could do, tear into her with some kind of biting remark that would shut her down for good in front of all these people, or just walk away and let them think what they will.

But honestly, what's the point? I've had worse than this, much worse. I'm not here to make friends, and I'm most definitely not here to entertain the drama of girls like Evaline. So instead, I take a deep breath, my fingers curling into fists at my sides as I force myself to stay calm.

“Good to know Nazriel's got you wrapped around his finger,” I say quietly, my voice even, though there's a boil of fury beneath the surface. “Hope it works out for you.”

Her face twists up in fury, but before she can say anything else, I turn on my heel, chin high, and walk out of the dining hall, not caring that everyone is still watching. They're not worth my time.

Cold air strikes me instantly the moment I step out, harsh with the orange juice sticking to every inch of me, yet refreshing somehow. I try to focus on that instead of the sticky mess clinging to my clothes, the humiliation simmering in my chest.

I force my dorm room door open and slam it after me.

Of course, Nasarea is sitting on her bed, flipping through a book with her legs crossed casually. Her gaze flicks up as I enter, and a smirk curls on her lips as she takes me in.

“Well, well,” she says, closing the book and sitting up straighter. “Looks like someone had a rough breakfast. Did you decide to bathe in orange juice, or is that just your signature scent?”

I glare at her, ripping my soaked shirt off and slapping it wetly onto the floor. “Not in the mood, Nasarea.”

“Oh, but I'm in the mood,” she says, standing up and crossing the room with that predatory grace she's perfected. “I heard Evaline talking with her friends about you. So what is it, Selestina? Are you going around kissing people who don't want you? Because, let me tell you, that's not how you make friends around here.” She gives me a mocking pout, like she is just looking out for me.

I roll my eyes, yanking open my drawer and pulling out a clean shirt. “Funny, coming from a person who has the personality of a stone wall.”

She huffs, moving in closer with her arms crossing her chest. “You really think you're hot shit, don't you?”

“You are giving me way too much credit. Maybe you need to worry more about yourself.”

Nasarea's eyes narrow, her lips curling into a sneer.

She breaks the silence first, her voice low and biting. “You're hiding something. You think I don't see it?”

I snort. I’m over this mantra that apparently everyone has. “And you're not? Everyone has fucking secrets, Nasarea. Why the fuck would I confide in anybody here with how welcoming everyone is?”

Nasarea's eyes flash, and I can see her fists clenching at her sides as she steps closer until we are practically nose to nose.

I glare at her, my face hot with anger, but instead of giving her the satisfaction of a retort, I grab my towel and head toward the small bathroom, slamming the door shut.

I lean against the door, panting, trying to regain my composure. Nasarea's right about one thing, anyway. I am hiding something. Multiple things really. But she'll never know what.

I take a step into the shower, letting cool water wash away the remnants of orange juice, and some of the tension. But no amount of water could wash away bitterness, anger, or that constant feeling that I didn't belong here.

I'm much calmer, though still on edge, when I'm done. I towel off and throw on fresh clothes, dreading having to go out and face Nasarea again. But I am not going to hide in here.

I walk back into the room fully prepared for yet another snide comment, but Nasarea only looks at me, then goes back to her book like nothing happened.

I look out the window, and I can see clouds across the sky, lazily making their way across. Part of me still envies that peace I see in others, the friendships, the normalcy. But a greater part of me knows better. I am not normal. I never was, and I never will be.