Page 76 of Where Angels Fall

My head shakes, even though she can't see.

“No,” I sniff once, trying to hold back from falling apart. “I need to... I need to do something first. But I just don't know if I have the strength to do it.” I wish I didn’t sound so pathetic. So unsure and weak.

“What do you mean, Maddy? What do you need to do?” My mouth parts but no words come out. I need to say goodbye to the Devils, once and for all. But I can't say that to her. “Talk to me, Maddy, tell me what's going on. Are you safe?”

“Yes.”

At least I can give her that much. The word comes out quickly, almost automatic, like a reflex I’ve trained into myself.

There’s a pause on the line, but I can hear her breathing, listening and waiting for me to explain.

“I just...” My throat tightens. I have to take a breath before I can continue. “I need you to tell me something.”

“Maddy,” she says gently. “What is it?”

My fingers curl tighter around the phone. The question sits heavy on my tongue, embarrassing and exposing and terrifying all at once.

“Do you think I’m...” I falter, the word catching. “Do you think I’m weak?”

“Weak?” she repeats, confused. “Maddy... what?”

“Yeah.” A shaky breath leaves me before I can stop it. “I just... I feel like such a coward.” The word tastes ugly in my mouth. “All the time. Ever since I can remember, I just roll over and let people treat me like I’m less then human. And I do it with... a fucking smile on my face. I know it and... I still can’t stop. Why can’t I stop?”

The words fall out of me, like I’m overflowing, a dam that finally has broken. Shame heats my cheeks, because I doubt I make any sense. A rich girl complaining about her rich life.

There’s a pause on the line and I pull the phone away to make sure we are still connected. I hear her inhale, sharp and startled, then exhale slowly into the speaker. “Maddy,” she says, her voice gentler now, steadying. “I’m worried about you. You don’t sound like yourself at all.” She hesitates, then adds. “Let me come to you. Please. We’ll figure this out together, I promise.”

“No.” I shake my head, panic flaring hot in my chest at the idea of her here, of her seeing all of this. “No, I’m fine. I shouldn’t have called. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...”

“Maddison.”

My full name stops me cold, her voice firm and demanding.

“You are not weak,” she says, and there’s no doubt in her voice at all. “You hear me? People who are weak don’t dance with danger. People who are weak don’t survive in your world, fancy and posh as it seems, I know. Why would you ever think you’re weak?”

The question triggers a slide show of reasons, starting from my earliest memories. Where I cried myself to sleep every night silently begging to be tucked in and held, read a bedtime story. To being so numb and devoid of emotion that I used to chase reckless, dangerous moments just to feel something. And now, running away from the one thing that makes me feel. I’m a coward because fading into nothingness and doing what I’ve always done every day, it’s the easy way out. It’s what is safe.

Living a life on the back of Ash’s motorbike, partying and dancing and letting him breathe life into my soul. That is very, very unsafe. And can be taken away in a heartbeat. If anything, that is what this weekend has taught me.

That feeling alive is scarier than feeling nothing.

Because then you have everything to lose. Then you have something for someone to take away from you. And now, I actually have something my father can take. And damn, does that scare the hell out of me.

“I’ve got to go, all right. I'm sorry. I'm fine. I promise,” I choke out through the phone.

Roxy stays silent for a beat. “I love you, Maddy,” She breathes into the phone. “You're the only friend I've ever really had, so you better come back to me, okay?”

Guilt stirs in my stomach, but also something nice. Something unfamiliar.

“I love you too,” I whisper back, my throat thick, before disconnecting the call.

I don’t remember standing up. One moment I’m at my desk, the next I’m outside, keys already in my hand, the cool night air hitting my skin in a shock. I slide into my car and pull the door shut, sealing myself inside the quietness.

The drive is a blur of headlights and redlights and turns I don’t consciously register. My mind won’t settle, spiralling through every possible version of what tonight could bring. Every choice feels irreversible now. My grip tightens on the steering wheel, knuckles aching, but I barely feel the leather beneath my palms.

I head further out of the city, towards the danger. When I turn into the familiar street, my stomach drops.

The club comes into view, looking exactly as it always does. The red neon sign buzzes against the dark, casting a dull glow over the weathered boards. Abandoned factories loom on either side, their broken windows like empty eyes, and beyond them, the apartment block rises, housing the worst of the worst.