WATTYS 2023 SHORTLIST
Cara, a troubled college dropout, finds herself slowly falling for a handsome stranger - who turns out to be Death incarnate. But the arrival of a mysterious being puts Death's home for lost souls and his very existence at risk...
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I lie flat on my back, my fingers warring against each other as if they don't listen to the same brain. A very rational brain which, by the way, knows I should not even be considering reaching out to Analia. Leaving my old life behind was precisely the reason that I ran away to Neverton in the first place.
But earlier today, she said that if I don't respond she'll call my dad and tell him that she hasn't seen me. And then he'll freak out and call the cops and declare me missing. And then I'll have an even bigger problem on my hands.
Not to mention, I miss talking with my best friend every day. She doesn't deserve for me to completely ghost her, especially when she didn't do anything wrong. Even when that's the easier thing to do.
I brace myself, my thumb hovering over the green call button on Analia's contact page. Breathe, Cara. It's just a quick call. You don't have to tell her any details about where you are.
Before I lose my nerve, I press my thumb down.
She answers on the second ring.
"Cara Rossi, if you aren't already dead I will literally KILL you."
"Hi, Analia."
"Don't 'Hi, Analia' me!" I wince. Even across state lines, her shrill voice attempts to burst my eardrums. "Are you fucking high? Has someone kidnapped you? Should I buy a pair of brass knuckles and start taking self-defense lessons?"
Despite her anger (and, let's be honest, dramatics) I find myself smiling. I want to pretend that this is a totally normal conversation between friends about a totally normal topic. That's the only way I can get through this. "I'm fine. I promise. No drugs or psychos involved." I pause. "Well, no psychos that are trying to hurt me, anyway."
"Where are you?" Her voice is low now, which means she's very serious, possibly on the verge of tears. It makes me feel even shittier about the situation. "I've never been so worried in my life. First, you stopped coming to class, so I assumed that you'd gotten sick. But when I reached out to Eric and he said you'd broken things off...None of this is like you, Cara. Did something happen?"
"Look, I...I know. Trust me, I know," I say, feeling hopelessly inadequate at explaining myself. I close my eyes. "I should have told you. It's just..." I flounder for the right words to say, but nothing comes to mind. How is it humanly possible to explain the giant mess that is my life? I try to change the subject. "How are you? How is Eric?"
"You know I'm fine, Cara," she says quietly. "And Eric would be a whole lot better if he at least heard from you. He needs closure."
I sigh, twirling my finger in a loose thread sticking up from the ancient comforter. "I will explain everything to him. And you. When I'm ready."
Which will be never.
"That's all we ask," Analia says, sounding a little more relieved. "Look, it's not my place to pry into your personal life. I know ever since your mom passed...Well, I know it's been hard. But I hope you know that you can always talk to me. And no matter what's going on, you can always talk to your dad, too."
