Page 61 of Saving the World and Other Bad Ideas (Grave Concerns 3)

Chapter Fourteen

Darkness crushed me, and I understood what Grant had meant about us not being made to cross the barrier. It felt as if I were attempting to pass through a brick wall, as if existence itself didn’t want me to enter.

Still, I pressed forward. I’d come this far—I’d risked and lost so much.

Some stupid barrier wouldn’t stop me, not this close to the end.

It seemed like forever before I broke through, before the weight eased off me, but I didn’t find myself in some mist-filled horror like my dreams.

Instead, I was trapped in total darkness.

Was this the between Grant had mentioned? The space that separated life and purgatory? The abyss and the void I’d fallen into before?

Not that me being stuck shocked me. I wasn’t exactly an all-in sort of girl, the type who knew what I wanted and went after it. My history had been more about being pulled—kicking and screaming, usually—into what I needed.

I’d ignored my real power for as long as possible, until Lucifer himself had forced me into accepting it.

So the fact that I might have a few unresolved feelings that would keep me trapped wasn’t exactly new information.

Which meant I needed some sort of great revelation in order to move forward.

So what was it going to be for me? My abandonment issues, my paranoia, my need to use humor to mask my massive insecurities?

It felt like a shitty gameshow with only horrible prizes.

The blackness shifted, taking form into a scene before me. I had to let out a soft laugh when it came into focus, when the memory it showed became clear. It wasn’t funny, but damn, it figured.

There I was as child, huddled in that bed, with the man who had abused me walking down the hallway. He had that slow walk, his steps soft and careful and so quiet.

I wasn’t the girl in the bed, but that same fear consumed me.

That inability to breathe, the way I’d tried to hold completely still, as if that would convince the man to just leave me alone, all swamped me.

And those damnedstepswouldn’t stop.

Back and forth, as if testing, as if seeing if anything would stop him.

I remembered how during the day, the house had felt so perfect. It was the family I’d wanted all my life, the picture-perfect Christmas-card sort of life.

And me? I’d stayed quiet. It hadn’t been fear of him that had kept me silent, but fear oflosingwhat I thought was my only chance at being happy.

I’d been willing to give anything for it, to endure anything if it meant getting the life I believed I was supposed to have.

I couldn’t get off the track.

Funny, that even when I knew what I needed to do, when I knew this wasn’t real, it could pull me in so fully.

It trapped me there, wouldn’t let me free.

I could only feel that crushing terror at the steps that never stopped, that neared closer but never arrived, at the shame that I’d been willing to accept anything to just feel loved and wanted and accepted.

A hollow place inside me sank, collapsing in on itself. All the things I’d felt, the ones I’d tried to shove down or ignore, rushed over me.

I’d always be alone, always be that little girl struggling so hard to fit in, to be wanted, willing to do anything if it meant a speck of affection.

No wonder I couldn’t find what I wanted…I wasn’t worthy of it.

All the times I’d been pushed aside, the times I’d been underestimated and cast out came back to me. Even my own parents hadn’t wanted me—they’d thrown me away.

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