| 4 | Red Solo Cup and Denial

◈ Celia ◈

I stand near the table of food, sipping on a less-than-virgin margarita in a red solo cup. Usually, I’d be raiding this table like it’s my last meal, piling my plate high with all the delicacies I can only dream of during the rest of the year. Tonight, however, my mind is elsewhere, the revelation of my father’s dark secret riding heavily on my thoughts.

As I listen to my friends rave about the Sentinels, their excited chatter fading into the background noise, all I can think about is what I overheard.

Sacrifices. A deal with the Vampire Lord.

It’s enough to make me lose my appetite, and that’s saying something, considering my love for food is arguably as strong as my narcissistic tendencies.

“Celia, are you okay?” Helen asks, her big brown eyes filled with concern. She’s usually the first one to chime in about the Sentinels, gushing about their dashing good looks and heroic deeds, but I guess my silence is more noticeable than I thought.

I force a smile. “I’m fine, just trying to enjoy the buzz I only get to experience a few times a year,” I say, lifting my cup in a mock toast.

Delaney, my other friend with waist-length braids, laughs. “Girl, I’ll be more than happy to hook you up more often if you convince your dad to let me move into the Sentinel’s Quarter.”

Ah…the Sentinel’s quarter.

It’s a mansion just a couple of miles down the road, a place of luxury and comfort where the Sentinels reside. Fully stocked with anything and everything a person could ever need, it’s like a paradise in the midst of the apocalypse. Since they serve and protect the people, risking their lives day in and day out, they get unlimited resources. Unlike the rest of us, who have to earn our keep by providing whatever skills we have to offer, scraping by on meager rations and the hope of a better tomorrow.

It’s communism at its finest.

I laugh, but it feels hollow. “He won’t even let me move there, what makes you think he’ll let you?”

Delaney shrugs, her big bright smile never faltering. “Meh, worth a shot.”

As the conversation lulls, the sound of the crowd growing louder catches my attention. I glance towards the stage, realizing it’s time for my father to give one of his famous speeches. The guests begin to move towards the front, eager to hear the words of the man they all look up to, the man they believe will lead them to salvation.

If only they knew…

As I watch them, my eyes are drawn to a different sight.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Amon and the group he gathered moving towards the back of the stage, their movements hurried and purposeful. They’re carrying backpacks over their shoulders, the weight of their cargo evident in the way they walk, and I realize with a start that they’re heading toward the edge of the barrier.

The shimmering wall of energy that keeps us safe, that keeps the vampires out. Humans can go in and out freely, but those monsters can’t pass through it. They can’t touch us within these sacred grounds.

So why are they leaving…?

I hesitate, torn between the desire to confront them and the voice telling me it’s none of my business. Unfortunately, the guilt gnaws at me, knowing that they probably have no idea what they’re walking into.

Damn it, damn it, damn it!

Before I know it, I’m moving towards them, calling out to Amon.

He stops, surprise evident on his face. He turns to walk towards me, away from the group. “Hey,” he says, hesitation in his voice, as if he’s not quite sure how to act around me anymore.

I cut straight to the chase, my heart hammering in my chest. “Where are you going?” I ask, even though I already know the answer, even though I can see it written all over his face.

You’re going to get yourself killed.

He shifts uncomfortably, his eyes darting away from mine. “I’m not supposed to say.”

I stare at him, silently urging him to spill, to confide in me the way he used to. He’s never been able to resist me, never able to keep a secret from me for long—save for the one about him sleeping with my best friend.

He sighs, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “It’s a job for Pastor George,” he admits. “The Sentinels don’t like it when anyone but them goes out for a hunt. They think they’re better than everyone else. We can handle ourselves.”

They are better than everyone else, and you can’t handle yourself.

“Well, I don’t think you should go,” I say, my chin tilted high, my shoulders squared. “The Sentinels are here for a reason. It’s not your job t—”

“To what?” Amon cuts me off, his eyes flashing with irritation, his jaw clenching. “You’ve always thought I’m beneath them, don’t you? That everyone is.”

Um…yeah? Because God LITERALLY blessed them with strength and power no one else has.

But I can’t say that. I can’t tell him that I quite literally think he especially is beneath them. Some men can’t handle a bruised ego, and he’s one of them.

“That’s not…” my voice trails off as I shake my head, desperate to come up with any excuse, any lie that’s even remotely believable coming from my mouth.

Why do I even care? He cheated on me. He deserves to die.

Frustrated, I shrug, muttering, “Fine, go. I don’t care.”

Yes, you do.

I want so desperately to be happy at the possibility that he’ll be out of my life for good, but as he turns away, his steps heavy with anger, I can’t help but feel angry and guilty all over again.

Angry, because first of all, how dare he walk away from me?

Guilty, because though I told myself he deserves to die, deep down, I know he doesn’t. I may be bitter, but we were friends for a long time, and I did, at some point, think we were going to get married.

I hate this.

“Wait!” I call out. “I’m sorry, okay? I just…” I struggle to find the words, knowing that just any excuse isn’t going to cut it. Without thinking, I blurt out, “I just miss you! A-And I wanted to talk. Maybe we can fix things?”

Pause.

…

What did I just say?

Amon turns around, surprise written all over his face, as if he really can’t believe what he’s hearing.

Trust me, I’m just as surprised as you are.

His friends start calling out to him, their voices urgent and impatient, and he sighs, torn between his duty and the pull of our history.

Come on, just fucking stay. Please. I’m trying to save your life.

He parts his lips, and just as he’s about to speak, his friend Tyler, the familiar blond-haired, blue-eyed, super jock-type guy in his mid-twenties, comes over, his smile easy and confident. “We got this, bro,” he says, taking Amon’s bag from him, as if he’s doing him a favor.

Amon hesitates, looking back at me, and for a moment, I think he might change his mind. “Are you sure?”

Tyler nods, clapping him on the shoulder. “Yeah, man. You stay here, catch up with your girl. We’ll handle the rest.”

I am not his girl.

Then, he’s off, heading towards the edge of the barrier with the other eight.

I watch them go, a sinking feeling in my stomach. Maybe I should’ve tried to stop them all, maybe I should’ve done more. But if I’m being honest, I only really care about Amon because of our history, because of the love we shared.

Sucks to suck.

Now, Amon turns to me, a smile playing on his lips. “So, where do you want to go?”

Shit.

I’m silently cursing myself, knowing I have to follow through and pretend to entertain the idea of rekindling our relationship when all I want to do is find out more about my father’s dirty secrets.

Nevertheless, I plaster on a smile, knowing it’s time for me to lay in the bed I made while I figure out what the hell is going on.

I take Amon’s hand, my skin crawling at the touch, and let him lead me away from the party, away from the truth.