Better Off Without Me
It is with deep regret that I, Tia Angelos, deliver this letter of resignation to the Revolt House of Boston, Massachusetts.
It is with deep regret that I, Tia Angelos, deliver this letter of resignation to the Revolt House of Boston, Massachusetts.
That’s when it hits me. I know him. His face, his eyes, his smell, his…taste. It was mine. Wasn’t it? He is mine? No, this is wrong. He is wearing the wrong clothes…the man I know…knew…he wore no shirt. I’d smack him gently, laughing and demanding he wear a shirt. I didn’t want to share what was mine. I continue to search the priest’s face.
I stepped forward, trying to tear everyone away from their mirrors. I called out to them, screaming and pulling on their arms. I went to her and begged her to leave with me. I watched helplessly as, one by one, my friends and family disappeared through the mirrors. I watched as the love of my life vanished before my eyes.
“The name is Moxie, you arrogant ass, and I’m going to show you what good girls can do!” she said and threw herself into him, sending them both crashing through the window. The glass shattered, and the pair tumbled through the air, racing toward the ground.
I needed to get away from there. My mind raced as I watched the scene play out over and over in my head. I shot them. I shot him. I shot both of them. I looked down at my hands. I was shaking.
I was immortal. I was a goddess. I was the voice of revolutions. I was Adrestia.
That’d been happening a lot of late. In place of memories warm and comforting were images that made no sense within my life, images which then became real. Like when Dash gave me that apple, and for a second, it changed. Then there was Audrey saying I had a meeting with that man Gerard and then forgetting it a second later. The thing is, these flashes almost feel more real than this so-called real life.
He nodded and left. I walked over and looked out the windows behind my desk. The sky was cloudy, the tree branches swaying in the wind. I heard a roll of thunder, followed by a lightning flash, and then it started to rain. The weather seemed to match my mood. Sighing, I turned around and stopped when I saw someone standing in the doorway.
The figure left Central Park, heading east towards the river. I didn’t know why I was following him. I didn’t know the man, and yet my heart told me I did. When we got to the water’s edge, the vision floated neatly out over the water, and I just stared at him.
The rush took over as I read the scripted book of his character. He was disgusting, his politics revolting, but he hadn’t committed any heinous crimes…or any crimes, for that matter. Though he was tempted to change that as he contemplated ways to put me in my place.
Maybe I could just stay. My life wasn’t terrible. I had money, a successful career…a kind of husband. A hot, younger man as my paramour. What did I have in my other life? Immortality? Power?
“You forget who I am.”
My hand rises, and the materials in the room start to melt away, the fabrication, the ruse lifting. I sweep my hand through the house as every bit of wood, cloth, and metal it took to make it shakes and bends to my will.
“I am the Goddess of Ruin.”
Maxine watched him scramble out of the room, smiling placidly, then spoke in a slow southern drawl, “Gerard, darlin’, you simply must learn to mind your manners. When a lady says no, she means no. I could do with a nice cup of tea, however.”
The doppelganger nods, moving behind me and merging with my shadow. I shake from the severe cold I feel, but it is only temporary. I look down at my shadow and see his wings flare behind me/us. I catch my reflection in a mirror behind the counter and blink. My right eye has gone pure black. I leave the store and step out into bright sunlight.
I see someone else. Someone with wings, golden hair, piercing blue eyes, a golden bow and quiver in his hands. No one else on the street seems to see this. I tilt my head to the side, and the reflection follows. My hand raises, and his does as well, mimicking me. I glance down at my cassock and then back at my reflection. But he is holding the bow and arrow up, ready to let it go.