The Paradise of Avalon (The Paradise #1)
Prologue
Heavy footsteps pound back and forth, fading, then rolling back in as echoes. Five, six times, maybe more.
Could be twenty. Who’s counting? Not me. My sense of time is completely gone. Right now, my world is this filthy tile pressed against my cheek, and to my surprise, I recognise its pattern.
Somehow I passed out at Tarik’s shawarma place in the red light district.
Amazing.
Even more amazing? Every weekend feels like a game of Russian roulette. Spin the chamber, down a shot, and see if this bullet called whisky-cocaine finally blows my brains out.
It’s the same suicidal ride I’ve been on for years.
And it’s not like I’m actively looking for ways to die. Not really. It’s more that I’m stuck somewhere in between, because living doesn’t do much for me either. So I numb myself, cut out everything that feels too real, and keep pushing the limits just to see what happens.
My last memories of tonight? Snorting white gold off Kimmy’s thighs. Smashing a bottle of Scotch against the canal wall in a state of rage. That same rage earned me a bouncer’s fist in the face.
Was it real? Or did it never happen?
My fingers tingle. I wiggle them against the greasy floor. They move, but I can’t feel anything anymore.
My heartbeat gradually slows and my eyelids grow heavy. I think this is it.
I’m about to knock at the pearly gates, and I’m not sure Saint Peter’s going to welcome me with a glass of champagne.
I’m starting to see things. Are those wings popping out of my back?
No, fuck. It’s Aberdeen. Scotland. Footdee. I didn’t sign up to see my fucking childhood.
I see Jay. He’s standing at the edge of the pier with his arms wide open, ready to catch me, to stop me from falling.
I run for him, but the pier stretches out in front of me, longer and longer, twisting into some Alice-in-Wonderland rabbit-hole shit. The harder I run, the further he slips away until suddenly, a flash of light rips the pier apart.
The wooden boards beneath my feet crumble, and I find myself falling into the night sky.
Cold tears streak my face, and the wind steals all the air from my lungs.
I keep falling, deeper and deeper, until I see her in a white dress, laughing, spinning like a ballerina. I try to scream, but again, nothing but a gasp escapes my mouth.
Her dress is soaked with water. Her eyes nail me in place.
She comes closer, her smile vicious, feeding on fear.
Cold hands clamp around my throat. I know her name, but forcing it out takes everything I have.
“Emily.”
“You think you can escape? You think you deserve peace?”
I try to free myself, but Emily’s cold hands pin me down.
She’s behind me now, her icy breath freezing my ear.
“You killed him.”
“Let me go!”
“You don’t get to let go,” she says. Her voice ricochets in my skull. “Not until you admit it.”
“Admit what? What do you want from me?”
“That it’s your fault,” she hisses. “Say it.”
“YES, IT’S MY FAULT! I KILLED HIM!”
The pond starts to churn. The water goes dark, violent, pulling me into its whirlpool. I can’t fight it, the current coiling around my ankles and hauling me under.
And then… there’s nothing.