Page 21 of Severance

“Have you met my parents?”

Mikah ignores my question. “Do you still plan on picking up your stuff from the apartment?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. I forgot. I was supposed to text you.”

“You were. Last week.”

“Is Friday okay? Are you going to be home?”

“Friday’s fine. In the afternoon. I’ve got boxes. Don’t bring any.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Silence.

I wait for Mikah to say something, but he doesn’t.

“I’m sorry I called so late.” I fall back on the damp pillow.

“You mean early?” A light chuckle.

“Right.” I stare at the ceiling, nibbling on my bottom lip. “Is it okay…if I call you sometime…when I can’t sleep?”

“It’s fine.” His voice softens and for a brief moment, it sounds a lot like Dakota’s. “Get some rest. I’ll see you Friday.”

He ends the call before hearing my goodbye.

“See you Friday,” I whisper to no one and toss the phone on the nightstand.

After staring at the dark for a good minute, I crawl out of my bed, turn on the light, and settle at the desk. The book has been sitting next to my pink organizer set for a while now, but I haven’t had the heart to open the package yet. Something about reading it scares me. I don’t think it’s the bloodsucking monster factor. I think it’s something else, something I’m going to find there I might not like. Or like too much. I may like the wicked grim as much as Mikah does.

Resting both hands on top of the envelope, I close my eyes and try to analyze the mess of my thoughts. They’re horses on a racetrack, competing with each other inside my head.

I sit like this for a little while, until my mind slips into a long-awaited glimpse of tranquility. Opening my eyes, I grab a pair of scissors. My fingers are stiff and trembling as I begin to cut the side of the envelope. The bubble wrap scrunches lightly as I pull the book out of the package and scan the cover. It’s blood red and black, and against the oak finish of my desk, the dark colors look ominous. Just like the title.

Dracula.

I’ve never read a horror novel, but I want to read this one. I don’t know whether it’s because Mikah recommended it to me or because it seems fitting to read horror when you live in one.

8. Before

I’m regretting wearing the red top to the show, because the temperature outside is subzero, and the walk from Jess’s car to the club reminds me of a walk through hell that’s frozen over. My jacket and boots feel paper-thin and aren’t much protection against the frosty wind. I’m well aware that beauty requires some sacrifices, but part of me wants to run back to Jess’s car and cuddle in front of the heater. My body has never been subjected to this much torture simply to ensure that the boy in the band that my friend and I are going to see is thoroughly impressed.

Then we have to endure the cold for another ten minutes while the person working the Will Call window sorts out the backstage passes the guys left for us.

Once we’re in the lobby, Jess calls Luke.

“You look fucking beautiful,” she says proudly, sliding her phone into the back pocket of her skinny jeans.

“I feel like a chunk of ice.” I bring my trembling hands to my mouth and blow some hot air to restart the circulation in my fingers.

“Sexy chunk of ice.” Jess winks, waving her laminate pass in my face. “Let’s go find backstage.”

The fact that she always wears next to nothing in winter when she goes out and doesn’t blink at the cold makes me wonder if she’s human. Unless it’s liquid helium running through her veins instead of blood.

Inside, the dominant color of everyone’s clothes is black. There’s denim, spikes, leather, and tons of tats, some of them with what my father would call “blasphemous” designs. Which brings me to what I’ve wondered half my life—whether he’s really my father, because I personally find all these “unacceptable” things oddly fascinating.

I find people who aren’t afraid to be who they want to be interesting.Even if they don’t meet my father’s unreasonable standards.

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