The walls trembled when the door slammed. Then the cabin rested in a reverberating silence. Nyx looked at Alistair and Kismet who stood stunned in the archway. The world reeled with a sense of mental whiplash.

How could we go from sitting around a bonfire to this?

“I’m so sorry,” Kismet squeaked. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, someone had to tell him,” said Nyx, pushing passed them into the living-room. “I can’t believe they all hid this from Angel - from us - all this time. When his powers manifested, if we had known, we could have talked to them. They let Angel flounder alone, and it was up to us to figure shit out. Like always.”

Nyx plunked into an armchair, scrounging in the pocket of her shorts for a cigarette. Alistair beat her to it and handed over his pack before sitting on the couch beside Kismet. She gratefully slid out a cigarette and lit it.

“I ruined everything,” Kismet muttered into her sleeves curled over her hands, the fabric muffled her voice.

“Angel made his decision,” Alistair grumbled. “You’re only the messenger.”

“I only wish you’d told me about your telepathy sooner,” said Nyx. “I wouldn’t have said anything to anyone.”

“I know,” Kismet said, staring straight ahead at the coffee table.

“She wanted to,” said Alistair, “but I encouraged her to listen to Daisy.”

“Alice, you don’t have to defend me. I could have said something,” said Kismet then finally looked up at Nyx. “It wasn’t fair to leave you out of the loop. If I had been honest sooner, maybe we could have prevented this situation somehow. We could have planned ahead or I could have handled it better…”

“Don’t put this on yourself,” said Alistair, then gestured to Nyx, “either of you. Got it? Angel is responsible for himself. Yes, the situation sucks, but he could have stayed and we could have helped. He’s doing what he always does. All we can hope for is that he’ll come to his senses before reeking too much havok.”

Alistair reached for his cigarettes on the coffee table with sharp, quick movements. He lit one, taking a long drag. Nyx couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen her brother so visibly shaken. It turned her stomach to slush to see him so tense and trembling.

“He’s on his own this time,” Alistair grumbled.

She clutched her cigarette between two fingers before the tears erupted, rolling down her cheeks. Her chest heaved as she struggled to regain her breath. It was as if her lungs and heart were ripped out from under her ribs.

I’m never gonna see him again.

Alistair and Kismet came to her, each putting a hand on either shoulder, gently rubbing until the tears ebbed into sniffles.

“He’s not gonna stop,” she said, taking a shaking drag off her cigarette. Drying tears stung the raw skin around her eyes and made her cheeks feel tight. “Caroline had a vision of him fighting Carl tonight and winning.”

“Shit,” Alistair gasped. “Well, Caroline sees potentials, right? Not certainties. There’s a chance he’ll come back after talking to Julian.”

Kismet nodded.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Nyx laughed through the remaining tears. The ash on the end of her cigarette fell onto her thigh. “That’s the Angel we all know, the one who goes and has a constructive talk with his Pops about emotions, they hug it out and he comes home. You said it yourself Alice. This is what he does.”

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Alistair slouched in the armchair beside her, pushing his still-wet hair out of his face. The thin plume of smoke at the end of his cigarette trailed toward the ceiling.

“I think I should go take a bath, or something,” said Kismet, nearly whispering. “I’m so sorry. It’s really loud and -”

“Yeah, of course,” said Alistair.

Despite her frustration, Nyx felt a pang of sympathy for Kismet. She had been placed in an impossible position, but Nyx was certainly not fond of getting caught in the crossfire.

The weight of all this must have been eating the poor girl alive. No wonder she’s been so jumpy.

Kismet hurried off to the washroom, taking her CD player along for good measure.

“We have to stop him,” said Nyx. “Maybe we can get to The Barn before he does and -”

“No, Nyx,” Alistair said. The firmness in his voice startled her.

“He needs us,” she cried. “Who else -”

“What do you suggest we do?” he demanded. “Say we get there before him, corner him, and then what? Are you going to be the one to tackle him or shall I?”

I’ll do it if I have to. Don’t test me.

“Well, for a start we could talk to him,” Nyx snapped. “Give him a chance.”

“We’ve given him plenty,” Alistair said. “Face it, he doesn’t want our help. All we can do is be there for him when he comes back around. We’ll get him through this like everything else.”

“Everyone failed him.” Nyx choked on another encroaching sob. “They lied to all of us and treated him like a problem our whole lives. I could never understand it. Even when he wasn’t doing anything, there was still this air of expectation and when he did fuck up they acted like, ‘well, of course.’ How could they all look right at him and see nothing?”

Not when he’s everything to me. How could they not see? How could they do this?

“I don’t know,” Alistair muttered. “I hope he realizes we won’t see him any differently. This doesn’t change anything.”

“Probably not,” Nyx grumbled. “Which is all the more reason to find him and talk.”

“I’m not going to stop you, but you’re delusional if you honestly think some heart-to-heart is going to change his mind instead of push him further away. When he cools off, he’s bound to come back, that’s our only shot.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

Alistair exhaled a plume of smoke, and shrugged. “That’s his decision. We’re here when he’s ready.”

“And I’m supposed to, what, sit here and wait?”

“And think,” said Alistair, tapping his ash out in the tray on the side table. “What are you gonna say to him?”

Nyx bristled and took a drag, taking her time on the exhale and watched the smoke trail through the still air. Dry eyes stung. Already the hang-over was creeping in.

“It’s over,” she said. “Whether he fights Carl or not, I can’t keep doing this.”

“Good.”

“Really? You don’t think i’m horrible for breaking up with him when he needs me the most?” she asked. “I feel like a bag of shit.”

Alistair leaned over andreached for her hand. She intertwined his fingers with hers.

“You have to let him go,” he said.

A fresh batch of tears bit behind her eyes.

“What if I can’t?” she whispered.

“Then this will be your reality,” he said.

Alistair’s words hit her like a sucker punch to the jaw. She blinked, letting them sink in.

He’s right. It has to be for real this time. I can’t keep banking on Angel to change.

“I can’t do this anymore, but I don’t want to give up on him,” she said. “I can’t abandon him.”

“He left us,” Alistair said firmly. “You don’t have to be his girlfriend to help him. I should know. If he comes back, we’ll think of a plan, but Nyx, please, do not give him another chance.”

Her heart beat a painful rhythm under her ribs like she was approaching the edge of a cliff, standing backwards. It would be for real this time. No going back on it, or it would be an admission of loss. If she brushed passed this, whatever semblance of pride she had lurking within would dissolve. The crumbling ground would finally give up beneath her and she’d tumble into the unknown.