nothing left.
Until last week, when Elias stopped me in the hall and apologized profusely. There had been tears in his violet-tinted eyes as he begged for me to forgive him. He told me he always had feelings for me, and he was afraid of them. He didn’t think I was a freak or weird or any of the other derogatory terms they’d called me.
I hadn’t believed him.
But then the next day, he had sidled into a seat beside me during first hour. And at lunch, he offered me a bouquet of gorgeous peonies. Ignoring the weird looks he received from my other classmates, and the hostile ones from his fellow Devils, he’d befriended me, eventually inviting me to the end-of-the-year dance.
It made me realize that maybe I never hated the Devils as much as I pretended to. After all, emotions were like a pendulum, swinging from hate to love in the blink of an eye. I’m not saying I was in love with the Devils or anything like that, but maybe I didn’t hate them. Maybe.
“Are you sure?” I asked Elias, staring once more at the stage. Karsyn and Cassian had joined Lucas, and all three of them were staring intently at me, almost as if there was a spotlight I couldn’t see.
Where were the teachers? Shouldn’t they say something?
Hope was a fickle thing. When it faded, it left you feeling empty and bereft, as if you had nothing inside of you anymore. It constructed impenetrable walls around your heart that no one could remove, not even an army.
Elias smiled tightly and nodded towards the stage.
“Go.”
I pull myself out of my memory, having not realized that I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Elias stands directly in front of me, worry clouding his features.
“Peony? Are you okay?” he breathes, his hands warming my arms as they brush up and down and back again.
But all I can see is his face at the dance, when he plunged his hand into my rib cage and grabbed what little of my heart remained. All of their torment, all of their cruel jokes…
It all paled in comparison to what Elias did to me that night.
“Why?” I whisper. I can’t hear anything over the erratic pounding of my heart.
His brows crunch together in confusion.
“Huh?”
“Why me?” Tears well in my eyes before I can contain them, and I mentally curse myself for showing weakness.
I can see the exact moment understanding dawns. A myriad of emotions crosses his face—pain, regret, anger, and then finally, guilt. So much guilt, even I’m choking on it.
And then I realize why Elias has been following me to and from school. It’s not because he likes me or even cares about my wellbeing.
It’s because he feels guilty.
Uriel warned me that the Devils might have changed. He told me that they’d likely grown up and reformed.
Elias wears his guilt the same way he dons his leather jacket. He doesn’t actually want to spend time with me, the freak. He just wants to alleviate his guilty conscience.
“I need to go.” I practically shove him away and race down the sidewalk.
“Peony!” he calls, but he doesn’t follow me.
None of the Devils have ever physically hurt me, but they’re the ones responsible for every scar on my soul and each cut on my arms and thighs.
Even now, years later, my skin tingles at the memory.
Freak. Weirdo.
Those words haunt me, just like the ghost taped to our school’s window.
Mariabella and Emmett are waiting for me at my locker when I arrive. They take one look at my dour expression and then exchange anxious looks.
“Peony? Are you okay?” Mariabella asks softly, like one would when cornering a rabid dog. But all I can hear in her voice is pity.
Pity. Pity. Pity.
Pity for the poor, broken soul who’s been through hell.
I hate that simple word and the numerous connotations behind it. There’s an underlying assumption that a person wants to be pitied, wants to have people fret over them. And maybe that’s true for some, but it’s not true for me.
I don’t want people to look at me like I’m some sort of victim.
Mariabella nudges her elbow against my side and offers me a reassuring smile. I attempt to give her one in return, but I’m afraid mine comes across more as a grimace.
When we arrive at our class, I’m still in an extremely sour mood. No amount of teasing from Emmett or compliments from Mariabella can pull me out of it. I slide into my desk feeling