There’s a monster in my doorway.
She pulled me out of that Hell dimension, brought me back to earth, gave me the opportunity to watch Angel sell out even more
than he already did. Sorry I ain’t throwing her a parade. I’d send her back to her coffin if I could.
Fred never even liked blue.
“Are you well?” she asks in her freaky formal voice, that never giggles or drawls or squeaks the way it’s
supposed to. I stare at her over the stack of untouched papers on my desk- why does Freaky McDemon-God care about my health?
“I believe the shell would have been concerned for you,” she says, tilting her head to the side. “There
are several memories that suggest this.”
Yeah, I hope there would be at least a few.
“Well, you ain’t her,” I say, and my voice sounds as stiff and fake as hers. She blinks slowly. “So
you don’t have to pretend to be interested.”
“Wesley also makes this obvious statement, that I am not the shell.” She runs her fingers along the edge of my
bookshelf and frowns. “And yet at other times he seems to find the echoes of her memories the only thing about me he
“Sometimes you’ll hold on to a lie, if you’ve got nothing else left.”
She looks at me, all sharp and intent like she wants to dissect me. That is like Fred, a little. “Is this a truth
about your kind?”
“In my experience.” I reach for some of the papers I hate and don’t care about. “I’ve got
things to do.”
She stares for a moment, then nods. “I will remember what you have said.”
When she’s gone, I go through the papers. I cross out the truths and circle the lies.