Page 101 of The Devil and His Goddess

Tears welled in her eyes, and she quickly swiped beneath them. “The doctors said I won’t be able to dance again, even if the injury recovered perfectly. My leg is ruined, Harper. Mylifeis completely fucking ruined.”

There was no pity for her to be found inside of me. As she blubbered and complained about her situation, my fingers curled on the tabletop with an overwhelming need to slap her.

Her leg was ruined?Herlife was ruined? The thoughts made me want to laugh out of spite.

“Did you call me here just to bitch about your leg?” I asked, uncaring that the question came out nasty.

She sipped on her coffee and shook her head, the misery not leaving her face. She tugged on the sleeve of her sweater and asked softly, “W-Why didn’t you call the cops? I’ve been expecting them to show up at my house all this time.”

“The justice they offer wouldn’t be good enough for me,” I snarled, thinking about the fate in store for Drake and all Perseus had already done to ruin Mandi’s life.

She sniffled, and her cloudy brown eyes squeezed shut. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing now?”

“The Father at my church said I can atone for my sins by seeking your forgiveness. He said my bad luck and my leg are God’s punishment for helping Drake. Maybe my life will get back on track if I make amends for what I’ve done.”

The idea would’ve been laughable if it didn’t hurt so much. Even when reaching out to apologize, it was for her own benefit and reward. It was to alleviateherguilt and suffering instead of offering any sort of reprieve to the one she’d hurt.

But what had I expected? This wasMandi.

“Why did you do it?” I gritted out and dug my fingernails into my palm. “Why did you help him—”

I couldn’t finish the sentence. The words choked me until I had to sit and breathe through all of the bitter pain swirling around my gut.

Her head continued its stupid shaking, as if she could make all of this go away if she shook it a bit longer. “I-I didn’t know what he was going to do until after he’d done it. I—”

“You didn’t know what he planned on doing to me?” I hissed. “Why the hell would he want you to get me alone and drugged, Mandi? Don’t act stupid now when you never have been before. And what the fuck does it evenmatterwhat he had planned? You knew he was up to no good, but you still helped him.”

Fat tears rolled down her cheeks, and she ducked her head. “I just wanted to be the star without your shadow constantly looming over me.”

My entire being froze, and I stared wide-eyed at her.What? Fire zipped through my body, incinerating the numbness under the rush of anger.

“I wanted to havemymoment without everyone comparing me to you,” she barrelled on. “I-I wanted to knock you down a little so you knew how it felt to be less than me for once. That’sall. I didn’t know he’d—he’d, you know … I hoped he’d scare you enough to shake you up at work. That’s it. I didn’t—”

I grabbed my hot coffee and shot to my feet, turning the cup over her head. She yelped, and the café went quiet as the brown brew dripped down her light hair and face, staining her clothes. She stared up at me in disbelief, mouth hanging open and red eyes bulging.

“Poor you, Mandi. Poor fucking you. Yourlegis hurt? You just wanted tobeatme?”

My life had been destroyed over some petty need to exceed me in ballet? I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand that all it took for her to aid in my assault was a competition she’d built in her own head.

I tossed the empty paper cup at her, smacking her in the chest. “You can’t make amends, Mandi. Not because second chances aren’t possible, but becauseyouwill always be a selfish bitch.”

I grabbed my bag and started to leave, pausing only long enough to add, “And if it wasn’t obvious, youaren’tforgiven. You and your Father can shove that idea right up your fucking asses, because your life falling into shambles isn’t God’s punishment. It’s Hell’s. Don’t ever contact me again.”

Chapter 38

Harper

THIS WEEK WOULD’VE BEENTHEweek—opening night forDancing in the Dark. Instead of preparing for the thrilling, hard-earned day, I was in bed, barely clinging onto the remaining shards of myself.

The shards that missed the feel of burning muscles as I pushed them to work harder.

The shards that longed for the freedom that came with leaping and spinning like a butterfly in the wind.

The shards that misseddance.

The longing tugging at my chest was one of the first things I’d felt amid the grief, anger, and torment that had kept me prisoner this past month. The pull—theneed—to dance grew stronger, and for the first time in many weeks, I pushed past the dark cloud keeping me down. I couldn’t stay buried under it, not when my limbs, my very soul, ached for what it had been denied all this time.

---