The Beautiful Damned

Mistress Lilith,

I am pleased to inform you that Inkwell Academy is finally ready to begin accepting students for the fall term. We have begun the printing of the student guidebooks, and the dormitories have undergone rigorous examinations. All that is left is to open the doors and begin welcoming what will surely be an influx of bright-eyed students. Per your request, there will be no students accepted from the human realm, as they would certainly sully our good and prestigious name. It is with a thankful heart that I pen this, and if you would still allow me, I would be glad to help you in your quest to find your daughters. We look forward to your impending visit.

Blessed be,

Agatha Willcroft, Head of the dark archives, 1925

Present day, Whitvale

I never knew what it meant for a person's whole life to be reduced to a single moment until the day my father, Calvin Whitlock, died.

It happened on a Tuesday. August eleventh at six pm. There was rain in the air, I could smell it when I stepped out of the house. He had been driving for an hour when he lost control of his little, blue Volkswagen and barely missed Barry's Lake. The police man who came later told us that it had flipped three times before finally landing upside down in the ditch. It was hard for me to visualize-Hard for me to accept.

My father lived in all the ways a person is meant to. He worked as a lawyer, defending the defenseless. A modern-day superhero. He loved his family and friends dearly, and ate whatever he wanted to eat, whenever he wanted. He cried while watching sad movies and found solace in the never-ending nature of the universe. He loved me.

This is why it's so hard for me to imagine that he died that way. Gasping for air as the blood rushed to his head. Watching through blurred vision as traffic came to a halt around him. I bet there was screaming, the pealing of sirens, flashing lights and everything chaos. I can only hope that someone, at least one person, stood still. I hope that they were an anchor in which he could feel calmness, one last time. Just in the same way that I hope they saw the picture of me hanging from the mirror, and the wedding ring on his finger as they checked for a pulse and felt a lump growing in their throat. Impossible to ignore. Maybe it's selfish for me to expect other's to suffer along with me. But I can't help it. The thought of suffering alone is too much to bear.

I wonder if he thought of God in the end. Even though for as long as I've been around he spoke openly about his resounding lack of religion. Maybe he channeled the guardian angel he had when he was a child-The one tasked with getting him safely to sleep. Or if he thought of his own mom and dad. I just hope he didn't think of who he would be leaving behind.

I take a shuddering breath as I hear the wrapping of polka-dotted birthday wrapping paper and reality settles back into me. It is my birthday. I am eighteen and my father will forever be forty-nine. There is a blue article of clothing that smells of perfume from my favorite boutique in Nightgrove. I force a smile onto my face and pull it out of the box. A dress, achingly soft, beautiful.

"Do you like it?" Dad murmurs, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder. A reminder that he is here with me. Somehow, I'd almost forgotten. "I know it's not the most creative of gifts, but I thought you might need something to wear tonight."

I shake my head, trying desperately to keep the tears at bay. "I don't know if I'll go, dad."

His eyes soften, and the smile falls from his face. "Don't say that, Avery. You'll regret it if you don't. Besides, college is one week away, and then you won't have time for anything else."

I busy myself with the little pearl buttons, pushing them in and out of their holes. I don't want to go out into the world again. It doesn't seem right to exist and live and age in a universe in which my father is no longer apart.

"If you're worried about me, don't be." He continues, sensing my hesitation. "Nona is coming by with pasta, breadsticks, and a plethora of red wine. I'll be well taken care of."

I nod slowly because I had been worried about him. And I finally allow my gaze to settle on his face. I've always thought that he was the more stereotypically handsome out of the two of my parents. With his sandy blonde hair and perpetually sun kissed skin. He has easy going, blue eyes that remind me of childhood at the beach. Gregory had this thick, brown hair, dark eyes and a nose that was a bit too big for his face. His beauty had always been in his personality. In his kindness.

"You should get going love." He says, his hand brushing a stand of red hair away from my face. "You're going to miss your friends...I know how that Blue can be if she's kept waiting."

For the first time in weeks, I feel something that resembles a genuine smile tugging at my lips. "Okay, okay. I'll go." I say. "But I'm not going to stay out late, so you better wait up for me."

His face moves into that all too familiar expression of boyish charm, that he somehow can still conjure even at the ripe age of fifty-two. And I can't help but wonder just how he manages to keep himself together. But I don't dwell on it. I can't. It's too sad, and anyway, I don't think I really want to know the answer.

Blackburn Nightclub

I have known Oscar and Blue for nearly twelve years now. Ever since they both moved with their respective families to the cul-de-sac in which my childhood home still sits. They arrived on the exact same day. Oscar, with his mop of red curls and ill-fitting glasses and Blue, still just as beautiful, with long blonde hair and blue eyes.

Now we stand side by side in the line leading to a new nightclub. Who that Oscar has been raving about for the past week. I agreed to come then, because I thought that it would be fun to go to my very first club experience on my eighteenth birthday, but mostly because it was and still is a perfect excuse to drink entirely too much and sleep in tomorrow instead of going to my part time job.

"Isn't it crazy, how in only a week we're going to be college students." Oscar says a wistful look on his face. "How can time move so slowly and so fast at the same time."

There is a pause, which is quickly interrupted by a snort from Blue. "I see you are still in your philosophical era, Oz. Time is meaningless. It's just something we fabricated a long, long time ago."

"That can be said about most things." Oscar sniffs. "What do you think, Avery?"

I shake my head. "It's hard for me to even remember what today is." I say. "I don't want to think about the impossibility of humanity right now."

Blue laughs beside me, and I turn in time to see her slipping her phone number on a crinkled post-it note to a handsome stranger. She catches me looking before I can pretend that I'm not and sticks her tongue out at me, her long lashes fluttering. "Let's not think about anything at all." She says. "That's what tonight is all about, isn't it?"

I nod, and Oscar crosses his arms in front of his chest, the apples of his cheeks going a bit crimson at the spectacle. When we were kids, I used to think that he liked me, but now that we are older, I've realized that it was never me at all. But Blue. I was who he felt safe with, and she was who lit him up and excited him. In hindsight, it should have been obvious, even back then. Because compared to her, I am nothing much to look at, and not nearly smart enough to make up for it.

"Avery." She sighs, her hands reaching up to stroke my face. "You're so pretty. I can't believe that you're all grown up now."

I want to laugh, but I force myself to keep it down, because for once this actually feels like a genuine moment. I hold still as she runs her fingers through my hair, straightening a few wayward curls. If it was anyone else in the world saying it, I would think they were making fun of me. But not Blue. Never Blue.

"We're next guys, do you have your ID's?" Oscar says, his voice coming out a bit strangely. He's never been one for physical contact.

I pat my purse and he smiles at me, nodding in the direction of the bouncer. I know that he's trying to make me feel less terrible, just like Blue is, but all it's really doing is masking how desperately I don't want to be here.

"Avery." Blue says, and her voice is so serious that I turn to look back at her. "I think something is going to happen. It will either be really, really good, or really, really bad."

A shiver runs up the length of my spine, because even though she ends her thought with a smile, it doesn't feel like a joke to me. It feels like prophecy. But before I can say anything else Oscar is pulling us into a kaleidoscope of flashing lights. And in spite of the way the music thrums and swells inside my chest I can't stop thinking about Blue's words. Because I think they are true. Something is going to happen.

Soon.