Beholder by Ryan La Sala EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author:Ryan La Sala
- Language: English
- Genre: Teen & Young Adult Horror eBooks
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
I close the bathroom door, shutting out the party.
The room smells like the perfume of the trio of girls who were just in
here. It’s a tiny, beautiful space. The dark green wallpaper rustles with
monstera leaves, and a golden faucet gleams in the candlelight.
It’s serene. Safe.
I wish I could match it. I often feel this harsh contrast between me and
the artful rooms I pass through, working for a designer like Uhler. Someone
arranged this space with love and intention. I wish someone would peer into
the chaos of my interior and pull me into peaceful composition. It’s no
wonder the rich enjoy life; they get to live it in such beautiful spaces. Like
this penthouse. It’s softly lit and artfully decorated and way, way too big for
the bachelor who Uhler introduced as the host when we arrived. It’s hard to
believe anyone lives in so much gorgeous emptiness.
I’m not threatened by the casual grandeur, though. I’ve faked my way
through dozens of these parties before. It’s easy. The guests are always the
same: brand-new New Yorkers trying out being fascinating, looking for
someone to listen to them prove it. As Uhler’s personal party date, that
person is usually me.
I’m a good listener, they always tell me, which is true. But the actual
truth is that I know if I ask people about themselves, they’re less likely to
ask about me. By the night’s end, I know everything about them.
For instance, Hannah Chloe Kaplan, the girl with bleached bangs, thinks
she’s an empath because she can read “vibes,” and for the record mine are
immaculate, and she doesn’t believe in New Year’s resolutions because
they’re for weak people who don’t believe in spontaneous evolution,
whatever that is, and she’s upset with her boyfriend because he doesn’t
flush the toilet all the time, which I agreed sounded like weaponized
helplessness of the first degree. All this I learned just by letting her talk, and
I don’t think she even knows my name.
Athan.
I’m still not ready to head back out there. I flush the toilet with gusto and
take my time washing my hands.
Athanasios.
My name means “immortal” in Greek, but it might as well mean
“survivor’s guilt.” In my head, I hear the whole thing spoken in Yiayia’s
pleading voice. Athanaaaasios. I should go home—this is far too long to be
away from an old woman who depends on me—but lately I can’t be around
her for more than a few minutes a day. Her rituals, her superstitions, her
wards against some all-seeing evil eye that’s searching, searching,
searching for what’s left of our family. She’s gotten so much worse in the
past few months.
Look, just look, my mind whispers as I wash my hands, but I keep my
eyes off the mirror. Not yet.
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