Page 29 of Mercy

I give her a small smile. "Thanks for organizing it. I know you're just trying to help."

She squeezes my arm gently. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right? If you're struggling, or if you need... anything. I'm here."

For a moment, I consider spilling everything—my fears, my doubts, my growing certainty that I can't stay here much longer.

But I look into her worried eyes and I can't bring myself to burden her with my problems.

Not yet.

"I know," I say instead. "And I appreciate it. I'm just... taking it one day at a time, you know?"

Starla nods, but I can see she's not entirely convinced.

As I watch her walk away, I feel a pang of guilt for keeping so much from her.

But how can I explain something I don't even understand myself?

I linger in the clubhouse after everyone else has left, nursing the last of my wine.

The familiar sounds and smells surround me, but instead of comfort, they bring a sense of unease.

This place that was once my home now feels like a gilded cage, beautiful but suffocating.

As I set my empty glass on the bar, my eyes are drawn to the massive logo painted on the far wall.

Do I stay or go?

Do I fight or flee?

The decision weighs heavily on me, a choice I know I'll have to make sooner rather than later.

With a heavy sigh, I push away from the bar and head toward my room.

Tomorrow is another day, another chance to pretend everything's okay.

But as I walk down the hallway, my footsteps echoing in the empty space, I can't shake the feeling that my time here is running out.

Something has to give, and soon.

I swirl the wine in my glass, watching the deep red liquid cling to the sides.

It’s like I’m trying to fit into an old pair of jeans that don't quite button anymore.

My eyes drift across the room, taking in the familiar faces.

That's when I notice something odd.

Fern and Charm, usually the life of any party, aren't drinking.

Their hands are empty.

"Hey," I call out, raising my glass slightly. "You two want a drink?"

They both shake their heads, exchanging a quick glance that piques my curiosity.

Gwen, ever the observant one, pipes up from her spot on the leather couch.

"What's the deal? You two pregnant or something?" She laughs, but then her eyes narrow. "Or is this some kind of solidarity thing I don't know about?"

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