C23 ADALINE POV

Adaline Point of View

"Are you sure?" I stare at the Dean, and I nod.

"Well, that is good because, Miss Vulkov, you are one of our best professors. I’ve been meaning to ask you to use your holiday days, and now, here you are, asking to use them. We all need to take a br -" she says, and I, naturally, tune her out.

I stare at her, a Black woman who was made Dean at a young age. As of last month, she was my mentor. All through my years at NYU, she’s been my mentor. But here I am, giving absolutely no fucks, just needing to get out of here. I glance at my outfit and know I’ve truly hit rock bottom because I’m wearing joggers and a shirt, the faded shirt I wear to sleep every night, for the past nine years. But she doesn’t notice the disaster I am. Perks of being a good person: it sets a good record.

you are a fake

I grit my teeth, nodding as she speaks, probably offering more praise.

"I’m delighted and will ask you to take as much time as you need, months, even. You are one of the best, the youngest, and we do not want to lose you..."

Once again, I tune her out. Then glance at the slip-on I have on, scrunching my nose, knowing full well I had my bath two days ago.

every bit of a mess you are

I’m hungry. For the past week, I’ve been living on takeouts, and I’m craving a home-cooked meal. But I’ve also been avoiding everyone. No matter how many times they call or bang on my door, I ignore them. I want to be alone, to wallow in peace without any judgments. I definitely do not need Cyp’s judging eyes, or Zoe with her perfect job, and definitely not Ashley with her perfect husband and family.

"...so what do you say?"

I bite my lips and nod, then say, "Thank you, I appreciate it."

She frowns at me, and I know I’ve messed up. "I meant, what do you think of getting a part-time lecturer to fill in while you use your vacation days?"

"I know, and I said I’d appreciate it very much, because I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. There are family issues I need to deal with," I say solemnly, playing the part of a good professor.

"I understand. Take your much-needed time. The students will miss you. So will all your colleagues." She smiles, and I get up, albeit abruptly.

"I’ll be in touch, and will be forever grateful. You are a beautiful woman who is an inspiration..."

And the ass-kissing begins, to divert her attention from my joggers, which I now realize have a Cheetos stain.

Fuck.

__

too weak to own what you are

Stupid. I should have decked her. Because I don’t know what gave her the right to speak to me like that. So what if I’m weak? I’m not who she wants me to be. Not who they want me to be. At least I’m trying. So fuck them. Fuck all of them. I am never stepping foot in New Orleans. That’s a fact.

"Aurora," I hear the familiar voice of my best friend, and I groan in frustration.

"What do you want?" I snap as I turn to look at her, and see she’s dressed amazingly. Great. Perfect time to look nice is when I look like shit.

"We’ve been trying to get in touch with you for weeks, even Ashley and her husband. It’s like you just disappeared. We were so worried. I almost called your parents."

I look at her and snort, then throw my hair into a bun. I should dye it, so I tell her I will.

"What is wrong with you? You basically disappeared from existence, and now you’re telling me you want to dye your hair?" she exclaims, and I dig into my pocket, hoping to find something, because I can’t have this conversation on an empty stomach. I find a wrapped candy. Bingo. I unwrap it and pop it into my mouth.

"Aurora!" she yells.

I sigh in frustration and look at her. "How did you find me here?" I say, gesturing to the campus.

She smiles, but it’s shaky. "I just guessed. I’ve been coming here, in case you showed up."

I smile, but it’s dry, because I can hear the quickening of her heartbeat, and it’s clear as day in her eyes.

"You’re lying," I say, and her eyes widen in alarm. "Don’t call me, or try to speak to me. Please, leave me alone. I want to be alone, without you, or my boyfriend. Leave me alone."

She looks at me, then nods, and I see she does so with so much reluctance. In that moment, I want to take my words back and stuff my doubts down a drain, because this is Zoe. My best friend. My center. But right now, I feel so lost.

I turn to get into my car, then glance back at her. "Do you think I’m weak?" I ask, and it comes out more pathetic than I hoped.

"You are the strongest woman I know," she says. And this time, I don’t know if she lied. All I know is, I don’t believe her.

__

I walk into the café, frowning as I wait in line. Then recite my order to the woman behind the counter.

"Everything?" she says, eyes wide, and I nod. Of course I want twelve doughnuts and six cups of coffee. But the way she’s staring at me makes me amend my answer.

"Yes. I’m surprising them at the office," I say, then glance at my outfit and add, "I’ll go home, change into office-ish attire, and surprise them."

She nods, and I see she’s lost interest, probably since I opened my mouth to explain my order.

I take the two paper bags and leave the café, only to be stopped at the door by a student. My student. Fuck my life.

"Miss Vulkov." She grins, and I glance at her side to see her arm slung around the shoulder of a man, who is probably her fuck buddy.

"Hey," I say, not remembering her name, not even trying to. I just want to go home and eat all these doughnuts.

"Hii, we haven’t seen you in a while. What’s up?" she says, drawing out the word, and I cringe.

"I’ve been busy. Excuse me, I have things to do," I say, holding the bags firmly as I try to move around her.

"I hope you’re good. Because they say old people don’t go through mental illness stuff, but that’s a lie." she says, and my blood boils.

Old people? Mental illness?

"Can you go fuck yourself? I need to get these to my friends." I say, lying, but relishing the way her eyes widen. Fuck courtesy.

I take her distraction and get to my car, driving away, feeling tears leak down my face as I take in the mess I am.

__

I walk inside, and the first thing I do is strip. I pull off all my clothes, even my underwear. Then I put on the television, sit on the couch, and open the paper bags, shamelessly eating all the doughnuts and drinking the coffee.

I am a mess. A crying mess. A hungry mess. A tired mess. A lazy one.

I’m disappointed in the woman I’ve become. I don’t recognize myself and don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve always been sad, that’s nothing new, but this sadness... it’s more intense. It doesn’t feel like mine. And it’s too heavy to carry alone.

I need help. Not the psychologist kind of help, I tried that. Didn’t work. I need a bigger kind of help. A real kind. I need a -

It happens suddenly. My head is thrown backward, my body straightening like it’s been shocked. It’s painful, blinding. So I scream. I can feel something inside me. I try to fight it, but it’s more powerful than me.

I’m in a room. It’s sealed, impenetrable. And I know I’m not alone. I turn swiftly and see a woman lying on the floor, tied in a circle of herbs. I know it’s there to make her powerless. There are more people in the room, two women and one man. They form a circle around her and are chanting. But they can’t see me, and I wonder why.

I turn my gaze back to the woman, and she’s obviously in pain. I feel more powerless than ever, because I want to help her. They’re holding her against her will, and I want to save her.

She glances up at me, like she can see me. And I gasp, because her eyes are familiar. She’s the woman I saw before. At the restaurant. And her eyes, they are neon.

She looks at me and mouths the words: You are the key.

I frown, but gasp in fear when one of the women looks at me, and I am thrown backward with a resounding force, the words you are the key repeating in my ears.