Page 59 of A Drop of Anguish
“Something wrong?” a gravelly voice asks.
My eyes widen at a certain demon prince leaning against a doorframe only a few feet ahead. Where the hell did he come from? His posture is casual, one hand in his pocket as usual, but his eyes are sallow with dark shadows beneath them.
“No, nothing is wrong,” I say, maybe more harshly than I should.
Jarron’s gaze lingers on the bandage on my neck, then they flash up to meet my stare. He exposes no obvious emotions, other than general unease.
“You guys can go ahead,” I tell my friends.
“Oh, would ya look at that, we’re late for class!” Thompson says as he skitters off. Lola and Janet rush after him.
I’ve needed the chance to talk to Jarron about the letters. I’ve put it off long enough, so this is a good opportunity to slip it in.
Jarron flicks a brow.
“Lovely morning,” I chirp sarcastically. “So bright and warm.”
Jarron’s lips twitch. “Are you all right?”
I nod. “Are you?”
He shrugs. And that, I believe. No one could look at him and think he’s anywhere near good. “I think you’re stuck walking me to class now.”
“Did you think I’d mind?”
I shrug. Not really, I suppose. “You don’t have to suffocate the whole school, you know.”
He doesn’t react. “Maybe I want to.”
“This?” I hold out my hand, pushing at some of the wisping black magic. “This is what you want?”
“Feels like home,” he jokes then lets out a rumble of a laugh. “Actually, it just feels good to make everyone else feel as miserable as I do.”
He’s smiling, but it’s more of a grimace.
“Are… you serious?”
He chuckles lightly. His expression is softer than before but still missing the lightness and joy he held months ago.
“Jarron, are you okay, really? If something isactuallywrong, will you tell me? Please?”
He shuffles his feet and looks up to the ceiling. “I’ve had a hard couple of weeks. Sometimes, when you feel dark, it’s better to expel it than hold it in.”
“I’m not so sure making others miserable is a healthy form of expression,” I chide lightly. “And that wasn’t really an answer.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve had a hard time, but it’s not easy to explain. It’s internal. Something I have to work out on my own. Manuela keeps calling it anxiety.”
“Oh,” I say stupidly. I’m not sure why, but it seems odd to think of powerful demon princes dealing with things like depression and anxiety. I suppose they could, though. “I mean, anxiety can be a really serious issue. You don’t have to work it out on your own.”
He sighs. “Therapy might help,” he admits. “But it’s not an option at the moment.”
“Why not?”
“Only another High Orizian could realistically understand enough to help.”
“Even Laithe can’t?” Other than the fact that he’s not a trained professional, at least he’s someone who would understand, right?
“He does help, but we’re still different species with different needs. My parents wanted me to stay in Oriziah for a while, actually, but I knew I needed to get back.”
