Chapter 19 No Pho for the Wicked
No Pho for the Wicked
Miguel holds the door open for me, and a rush of warm, aromatic air envelops us, countering the bitter chill outside. The pho restaurant is cozy, half-full, with soft Vietnamese music filling the gaps in conversation.
Twinkle lights blink with friendly enthusiasm along the burnt orange paint, adding an extra level of warmth against the gray frozen night.
It’s been days since Shadow came and broke me into little pieces, first physically, then emotionally.
The hunger in the pit of my stomach has turned ravenous. I’m dangerous. I want too much. I want wrong, fucked up things.
I couldn’t help but think I did this to myself. I forced myself upon Shadow. My perverseness drove the monster from under my bed to return to his own hell dimension rather than stay with me.
But the man in front of me knows nothing of that kind of darkness. So I have to be careful with him.
Miguel’s brown eyes glow in the ambient light, full of anticipation and excitement. Usually I find that glow infectious, making me feel almost normal, but not tonight.
He’s pretending everything is easygoing, but I can’t. The weight of my life sinks into the marrow of my bones with a desolate darkness. I’m nothing more than a feral creature pretending to be human. A wisp of shadows and nightmares, trying to exist in someone’s dream of a perfect date.
"Wow, it smells amazing in here," Miguel observes, pulling out a chair for me.
"Yeah, it really does," I agree, forcing a smile as I sit down. My eyes catch the way he looks at me, and my heart sinks. He’s so good, so undeserving of the trouble I am.
We order, and while waiting for our pho, Miguel chats about his week, how his classes went, a relative he helped move. Every word makes me feel more disconnected. It’s like watching a movie where I don’t belong, where my character has been mistakenly cast.
The impossibly large, steaming bowls arrive, and we dig in. Miguel is visibly happy, savoring every bite. Even I find the flavorful broth helps settle the gnawing feeling in my stomach.
"Mmmm, this is so good. Have you tried pho before, Evie?" he asks.
"Yeah, a few times," I reply, twirling my fork aimlessly through the translucent rice noodles. It’s actually one of my favorite comfort foods, but I typically stick to the cheap ramen packs at home rather than allow myself the luxury of hot noodles out.
"Yeah, perfect for a cold night like this," he adds.
The conversation stalls, the silence becoming more noticeable, like the empty spaces in the room. They seem to swell and push against my skin with insistence.
Tell him.
Tell him now.
"So... Evie, I was thinking next week we could go to the movies. There’s this one I think you’ll love. It’s a goofy comedy about a heist."
I hesitate, picking at my food, doing my best to form words that are both honest and kind. "Miguel, you’re amazing. You really are. And I... I think you deserve someone equally amazing."
His brows knit as his shoulders slump in defeat. He thought he’d steered the conversation away from danger, but this moment was always inevitable.
Miguel reaches across the table, taking my hands. "I think you’re amazing, Evie."
"But you don’t really know me," I counter softly, looking down at the table. My voice is choked by the weight of my hidden world.
"Evie, everyone has their issues, their fears. That doesn’t mean—"
I tug my hands from his, folding them in my lap. "I’m not talking about ‘issues,’ Miguel. I’m saying you need a girl to fit your life, who is normal, who has all the love in the world to give you."
The only love I have is for a monster who slinks out from under my bed, and even that, I recognize, could simply be some unhealthy obsession. But the way my heart beats for the beast spells out love and a terrifying devotion I can’t fight.
Miguel is sweet, good, and true. But Shadow is where my darkness lives without shame or regret. To reach Miguel’s light, I’d have to fight against everything I am—and I’m too tired to keep fighting.
The relief, the luxury of being who I am, darkness and all, is something I’m not sure I can live without anymore, because it makes me who I am.
Shadow will never return. He said it himself. But even if I must live with those tainted, fucked up parts of myself, it’s better than living a lie for another.
His eyes flicker between mine, wide and frantic, like he's searching for a lifeline.
"I don’t understand. I know you protect yourself, hold yourself back out of self-preservation, but I’ve never pushed." His cheeks flush as he looks away, and I instantly know he’s remembering our last date. Pinning me on the couch.
I set a hand on his arm, drawing his attention to me, and away from his guilt. "You’re right. I do protect myself. You’ve been patient, kind, and perfect in every way."
"The old ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ line," he sighs, twirling his noodles.
I’m desperate to take the sting out of my rejection. "Miguel, I can’t tell you what our time has meant to me. Before you, I’ve never even had a friend, much less a doting boyfriend."
He blinks rapidly, eyes wet, full of confusion and concern. "Evie, whatever it is, we can work through it."
"You don’t understand," I reiterate, "and that’s exactly why I can’t let this go any further."
Words balance on the tip of my tongue. Can we please be friends? Enjoy meals and movies together?
But I know with his feelings, this relationship will remain unbalanced. It’s unfair and cruel of me to hang around like a parasite, keeping him from moving on. It’s selfish to linger in his life like a parasite, stealing space where someone else could give him everything I can't.
I truly mean that he is my first and only friend, and that’s exactly why I’m giving him up. Because I care enough about him to put aside my own wants for what’s best for him.
We both sit there for a long moment, the air thick and heavy.
"If this is what you want, Evie, I’ll respect it. But I wish you’d give us a chance." His voice is tinged with sadness but also with an understanding that breaks my heart all over again.
A deafening crash reverberates through the restaurant as the front wall of windows shatters.
The howl of a deranged monkey echoes all around us. A long, gangly neck stretches into the restaurant, supporting a massive face that is an abomination—a cyclopean eye socket devoid of any eye, an open void into nothingness. Two massive horns curl like a ram’s from its skull.
My heart slams up into my throat and my palms turn sweaty as fear and shock rocket through me.
Is this a nightmare? Am I asleep?
The gaping eyehole is surrounded by decaying flesh pulled back into a macabre grin, revealing a maw of jagged, dripping teeth.
A sickly green moss or fur, interrupted by patches of rough, scarred skin, clings to its body. The eight-foot monster lumbers in through the broken glass wall of the building.
Human screams pierce the restaurant, and I know for sure I’m not asleep. This is actually happening. Every muscle in my body freezes up, petrifying me where I sit.
The creature lets out a sound—something between a howl and a raspy laugh, echoing with a depth of malice and hunger. The weight of its stare, even without a discernible eye, is palpable—a gravity that draws in all light and hope.
People panic and scramble, tables overturn, dishes shatter. The creature lets out another disturbing howling laugh as it scans the room. When its empty eye socket lands on me, I know—it’s found what it’s looking for.
I find my voice. "Miguel, get down!" I cry, launching up to run, but he’s already pulling me behind a toppled table. The monster ignores the people fleeing the restaurant. Because it’s here for me.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"What the hell is that?" His voice is filled with disbelief and rising panic.
"You need to leave, now!" I order.
But Miguel won’t leave. He grabs a broken chair leg and stands his ground as if he’s going to take on this creature from a nightmare. It’s both brave and incredibly stupid.
The cyclops-creature unfurls a set of dirty wings and lunges. Every fiber in my being begs me to save Miguel. I can’t let him get hurt—not because of me. With a surge of adrenaline, I shove him violently out of the creature’s path, its gnarled, spindly fingers reaching for me.
Miguel loses his balance and crashes into a table, his head striking the corner. He slumps down, unconscious.
"Miguel!"
The creature lets out a victorious caw, gripping my arms with its crushing force. Bright pain turns my vision red a moment as its razor-sharp claws sink into my triceps, piercing flesh, my blood running down my elbow and soaking into the sleeves of my sweater.
The vision of Miguel’s body smacking against the table flashes over and over in my mind. The sound of his skull cracking against the wooden surface. He’s hurt because of me. My insides twist into a sickening knot.
The eyeless cyclops pulls me close, lifting me off my feet. I come face to face with the atrocity, its features even more horrific up close. The skin on its face is a labyrinth of scars and lesions. Its empty eye socket seems deeper, a tunnel to an eternity of despair.
A small voice at the back of my mind reminds me, Shadow isn’t coming.
Not this time. Not ever again.