Page 35 of The Devil and His Goddess (Sinners Do It Better #2)

Harper

I SCROLLED THROUGH THE ARTICLE Aiysha sent me that morning. My heart raced as I read about this past weekend’s performance of Swan Lake , or rather, the injury that Mandi sustained during it. The head of public relations didn’t go into detail in their comment to the writer of the article, but they confirmed Mandi would be out for the foreseeable future.

A pang rippled through my body as I reread the line that confirmed Mandi was out. The sharp jolt inside of me was a mixture of worry for someone I’d danced with for years but also smug satisfaction.

Anger—something I’d barely felt amid the grief and pain that came after that day three weeks ago—funneled through me with the ferocity of a deadly earthquake. She’d drugged me. She’d left me to fall victim to that monster. Fuck feeling bad for her.

I was glad she got hurt.

I was glad karma was catching up to her.

That fire in my gut had a burst of restlessness breaking free beneath my skin. I was wound up tight and eager to release this feeling that had always been there but had been lying dormant beneath the other dark emotions.

I shot to my feet and paced beside the bed while scraping my fingers through my hair. The bitter hatred only grew until all I could do was scream, grab the pillow beside me, and pound it into the bed over and over again. Tears blurred my vision as I roared and beat the mattress, letting out the acrimony.

I hit the bed, picturing everyone I truly wished was on the other side of each swing. I screamed until I was hoarse and slammed the pillow into the mattress in hopes that it would crush the faces of all those I loathed in my mind—Mandi, Drake … myself. The bitterness boiled over until even the pillow couldn’t take it, bursting in an explosion of feathers.

I was furious with Mandi for tricking me.

I was enraged with Drake for taking what didn’t belong to him.

I was irritated that I found joy in Mandi’s suffering.

I was angry at everything .

I collapsed to my knees and choked on my cries as I squeezed my eyes shut and tilted my head back. The soft white feathers slipped across my face as they slowly rained down, but I took no comfort in their light touch. The pillow got to release what was inside, but I was still waiting, still hoping to burst with a release of jagged and sharp feathers.

When would this hell end? When would the hurt stop? When would the grief subside? When would I learn to live again?

Time slipped away from me, but that was the norm for me these days. It was like my mind knew I couldn’t handle being able to think or feel, so it would shut down, freezing me in whatever state I was in until the room that had glowed with the rising sun dimmed with the sleeping sky.

Only Perseus seemed to bring me back from the place I floated away to in the protective corners of my mind. The warm and gentle tenor of his voice would wrap around me like a blanket amid winter storms. With his smile guiding me back to reality, he’d keep me here with him for some time, but then the smallest of things would send me right back to the numbing darkness.

The taste of something faintly sweet like coconut.

A tune from the TV that resembled any piece of music from Swan Lake .

The word ‘beautiful.’

The sight of my own reflection.

Everything brought me back to that one room, that singular moment in time. I’d freeze up and shut down, starting the loss of time and self all over again.

The worst part about it was seeing what it did to Perseus. As much as I was hurting, I knew he was, too. Yet despite everything he had to be feeling, he was right there . Cooking me food, drawing me baths, laying next to me while I slept. And then there was the gift he’d given me.

The ballet studio.

I’d yet to go down there since the day he’d shown it to me. Every time I thought about trying, I’d become paralyzed with an unexplainable fear, which forced me to remain in bed like a trembling leaf. I didn’t know if it was fear of the studio potentially reminding me of the one at Aiysha’s, fear of my own reflection in all of those mirrors, or fear that my ability to dance had broken alongside my soul. So I remained locked away in my mental prison and borrowed room.

“Harper?”

The concerned sound of my name had me slowly turning my head to look over my shoulder. I was still on my knees, clutching the ripped pillow I’d used to unleash my fleeting fury. Perseus’s brow furrowed as he knelt next to me on his feather-littered floor. His presence meant I’d lost another day.

Another day without ballet.

Another day without talking to my family or friends.

Another day without living.

“Welcome back,” I rasped, my voice unaccustomed to talking these days. The sound was even worse after my screaming fit.

Perseus looked me over where I rested on my knees and gently pried the tattered pillow out of my hands. “What happened?”

I watched him toss the ruined pillow across the room before fixing my blank gaze on the white bedding. “Nothing.”

He stiffened beside me, and out of the corner of my eye, I caught him clenching and unclenching his fists. I knew he wanted me to let him in. I knew he wanted me to open up and talk. But I didn’t have the words to convey what was happening inside of me. All I had was just that— nothing .

Bringing my eyes to his, I asked, “Mandi’s injured?”

He inhaled deeply and looked at the floor between us, no doubt trying to reign in his frustration at my lack of answers. His voice came out calm as he revealed, “Yeah. Her dance career is over.”

There was no sense of satisfaction or anger at the news. I’d expended all I’d had already, so all I could do now was nod.

“I see,” I replied flatly. “That sucks.”

He let out a gruff, short laugh, but the sound, paired with his clenched jaw and flared nostrils told me he found nothing about any of this funny.

“Yeah,” he agreed roughly, still staring at the empty air between us. “It all sucks.”

He turned to sit fully on the ground and leaned back against the side of the bed. He braced his arms on his bent knees and finally met my gaze. His cheeks were more pronounced than normal, and faint dark circles were beneath his dull green eyes. We were both suffering in different ways with no way to stop it. Even now, neither of us spoke. We stared at the other, each lost to our own sorrows.

The sun, perpetually blocked by thundering clouds.

The butterfly, pelted by never-ending rain.

I wondered if the two would ever find their way back to each other again.