Page 147 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
The ropes were not tight.
The blades did not touch her.
But she stood trapped in a cage of her own making—a prison built in her mind.
My fingers hovered over the next card, the air in the teepee thick and warm. Liv remained quiet—no smart-ass comments or deflection this time. Just pure reflection on her face as she eyed the cards currently on the bed, waiting for the next one. Her knees were folded beneath her, eyes wide.
I pulled the card for the Past and slowly placed it down before her.
The Lovers.
I studied the card, two mirrored figures standing beneath a golden sky, reaching for one another but not quite touching. Not quite able to make it. The card breathed of something unfinished. Something yearning.
I cleared my throat.
“This card speaks to connection,” I said. “To love, but also to choices. It talks about the way people’s lives become entwined in ways that shape everything that follows. Looking at this card,” I added thickly, avoiding her gaze, “in the position of the past… it tells me there was a relationship—an important one—that fractured before your life ended.”
Liv yelped, so softly it was nothing more than a whisper.
“Someone you loved,” I continued, “or needed to love, maybe. You felt pulled toward them but could never quite reach them. Or maybe you walked away from them, but the connection never got closure.”
A frown knitted at my brow as a headache bloomed behind my eyes.
“This card isn’t always about romance,” I said carefully. “It can mean family, too. A bond. Even a part of yourself you pulled away from, but that still has a hold over you.”
Liv’s jaw clenched, and she shook her head.
“Enough of that one,” she said tightly. “Next.”
I didn’t argue. This was her reading. If she wanted to move on, that was her prerogative. I pulled the next card for the Future and placed it down.
The Hanged One.
“Well,” Liv said on a low whistle, shifting her seating position before flopping onto her stomach. “That’s fucking ominous.”
A grin stretched across my face, but I watched her. She was deflecting now—retreating into humor. Into nonchalance. The Lovers had shaken her. I’d hit something deep.
“It’s not a bad card,” I assured her, as Ellis stifled a laugh beside me. Some of the tension in the room lifted. I traced a finger down the faded figure, suspended upside down by one foot, showing no signs of struggle—just peaceful surrender.
“This card isn’t negative,” I said. “It’s not punishment. It’s more about letting go.”
Liv’s brow furrowed, some of the cheeky twinkle in her eye fizzling out.
“It’s kind of like the moment before a breakthrough,” I told her, swiping a loose strand of hair up and around one of my space buns. “It’s that space between holding on and stepping forward. It’s uncomfortable. It’s retrospective. But it’s necessary.”
My words came slower now, filled with more purpose. I looked from the card to her.
“You, Liv, are coming to a crossroads, and it’s one where you’re going to have to release whatever it is you’ve been holding on to. It’s not instant resolution, but it’s transformation. And it’s about being brave enough to wait through the hard part—the part where it’s still and silent.”
Liv blinked and frowned. “That’s my future, then? I’m stuck?”
“No,” I murmured, my voice firm as I shook my head. “No, you’re in motion. Even when things are still, you pause with purpose. You’re not stuck, Liv. You never have been. You’re just… you’re just suspended. But nothing stays still forever.”
Liv said nothing, her lips pressed into a thin line.
I shrugged and turned over the next card, my eyes feeling heavy as I took a breath. I gently laid the card down—the Above in her spread. Her conscious goal. The thing she thought she wanted.
“The Chariot,” I announced on a blink.
