This chapter is dedicated to my WP friend lyttlejoe whose ONC entry Janus Discord has already hooked me from line 1. Hop on over to his profile and check it out.

She is a sight for sore eyes. The wet shirt clings to her like a second skin, revealing venturous nipples that peak on firm hills. Even though her cargo pants are cuffed and baggy, the downpour offers ways to highlight her curves. Her skin is smooth with a silky glow and a complexion that reminds me of sand on a beach. Yet, her haunting eyes are what touch me the most; the midnight blues are diluted by her tears and are in sharp contrast to her raven hair.

I pat a barstool. "Why don't you sit right here?"

She takes a few tentative steps forward; then, after more hesitation and a few glances around, she takes the offered seat. Her smile is guarded and far from genuine. Knotting her fingers together, she gazes at me expectantly.

I open up one of the cabinets behind the bar and pull out a towel. Silence stands between us as she dries off her face and hair. Bouncy curls that suit her soon frame her oval face.

"Thank you." She hands back the towel and looks around. "What is this place?"

"A refuge for those who are not quite ready to move on."

"And what happens once I finish my drink?"

"You walk through that oval door over there. Behind it is a spirit we call the enforcer, and he will determine if you are going to heaven or the underworld."

She snorts. "That's a no-brainer. I'm heading straight for hell."

The training manual that came with the job description is clear: encourage and lend a kind ear, but never confirm to a human that they are doomed. It will be too upsetting for them to learn that at this stage of their journey, sins can't be washed off their hands. Blood leaves its traces and so does the taking of a soul, and this woman reeks of both.

The "you never know" rests at the tip of my tongue, but the words refuse to leave my mouth. For once, I don't want to lie. Besides, she would probably not even buy my bullshit.

I polish over the square of the bar in front of her. "What can I get you? We got all types of liquor, though"—I squint at her—"if I had to guess, I'd say you are more of a cocktail lover. A Piña Colada perhaps, or maybe a Margarita?"

"A Shirley Temple, if you have it."

I gape at her. "That's a child's drink."

"I was ten, when I had it last. My parents and I were on a vacation in the Canary Island over Christmas and stayed at an all-inclusive resort. I felt so grown up, sitting in a cabana with a cocktail, just like the adults." A sad smile curls her lips. "It was the last time I was truly happy. My parents died a few months later, and the uncle who raised me after that was a mean drunk. Our house constantly smelled like stale booze, cigarette smoke, and vomit, though it didn't turn me off the alcohol." She lets out a bitter laugh. "No, stupid me had to learn the dangers of driving under the influence the hard way."

I keep my eyes trained on her face as I mix the grenadine with the lime soda and the ginger ale. Something about her story gets under my skin, though without a doubt, the worst part is yet to come.

Her eyes cloud over with a painful memory that has been the bane of her existence. "On my twenty-first birthday, a drunk dare turned into the biggest mistake of my life. I killed a little girl, she was only six, while I walked away unscathed. Now it's only fair that I pay for my reckless behavior in hell."

I squeeze her hand.

Leave it at that, Anchor.

Warmth spreads into my chest and words that are not under my command bubble out of me. "It was an accident. You didn't mean to harm anyone."

"That doesn't change the outcome." A few fresh tears roll down her cheeks. "The little girl is still dead."

And the guilt has been eating her alive ever since. In a way, she already started her punishment on Earth.

Her stare grows distant. "And when it was time to face justice, I chickened out. I took my own life because I didn't want to relive that night in a courtroom in front of her grief-stricken parents."

I internally wince. Centuries of groveling are ahead of her, though if she shows enough remorse, they might ease up on the torture.

Those penetrating eyes slice into me like paper cuts. "Go on. You can say it."

My brows crumble. "Say what?"

"That I'm a despicable human being and deserve to go to hell."

"To me, you sound like someone who made a terrible mistake and is genuinely sorry about it."

What am I saying?

I shouldn't downplay her sin.

It's a bolded rule in the job manual.

She shakes her head. "I walked around for hours in the dark and the rain, trying to find a way to redeem myself, but it only brought clarity."

That's what the downpour of wisdom does to you.

She picks at the stem of the maraschino cherry I placed on top of the Shirley Temple. "Maybe if I hadn't killed myself and instead made amends, and then turned my life into something good once I got out of prison, I would've had a chance, but not like this. I'm damned, and we both know it."

I clear my throat. "Is that why you diverted from the main path? To find perspective?"

"Not sure. Everyone else was just steering straight ahead and followed the signs for the afterlife as if they knew exactly where they were meant to go. I, on the other hand, felt incredibly lost and undeserving, so when I got to the crossroads, I took the trail with the sign pointing toward Regret. Seemed fitting at the time."

"That path is meant for people like you."

"Out of curiosity, how many visitors do you get per day?"

"Maybe a few dozen, though that fluctuates. A couple times a month, I get really busy."

"So generally, most people stick to the main path?"

"99.9 percent plus keep straight at the crossroads and get processed through the checkpoints. Only a few stragglers follow the signs for Hope or Regret."

Another bitter laugh. "Lucky me. I'm always the exception. And you must be sick of assholes who whine about second chances."

You have no idea. "You are not one of them."

For a breath, a fond flicker lights up her sad eyes. "Have you ever been to hell?"

"Many times. I have family down there."

She arches a brow. "Your kind has family?"

It's my turn to chuckle. "Of course. No one originates from a vacuum. We all have moms and dads, plus some have siblings, or aunts and uncles. It's part of the circle of existence."

"What about heaven? Do you get to go?"

"On special occasions, yes."

"That's nice." Her gaze drops to her drink. "What's hell like?"

"That depends. There are different sections, and some are worse than others."

"Worse in what way?"

Apprehension clogs my throat. I already told her too much. "You haven't touched your drink."

"Huh, it's that bad! Good to know."

And then, everything comes crashing down.

The utter despair.

The feral fear.

The stifling sorrow.

She trembles like a leaf in the fiery winds of hell. "Can I stay? Just for one night?"

"Sorry—"

"Please. I just want to take one more bubble bath and sleep in a soft bed."

She chews her lip and the sudden hope in her eyes does crazy things to my cock. Never—in all the years of my existence—have I ever been attracted to a human female. Demons are not wired that way. I shouldn't have a boner.

I run a hand through my hair. Agreeing will bring chaos to my usual routine, something that doesn't work well for me.

Besides, it's against every single rule and procedure and will get me into hot water with the boss lady. Travelers get up to three drinks; then they move on. Case closed. The Resting Point was not designed for extended stays.

Tell her no.

Tell her it's impossible.

Tell her she extended her welcome and has to go now!

My rational mind shuts off, allowing my vocal cords to sputter out crazy nonsense. "I have a bedroom and a bath upstairs. Feel free to use them for as long as you'd like."

Total WP word count: 2,760 (first milestone met)

So now that you have met Cass and learned about her sin, how to you feel about her? Redeemable? Is hell the right place for her? And what about Anchor? Did she hit a nerve? I'd love to hear how you like the story so far, and please consider a vote if the chapter deserved it. Thanks for reading and check back for the next chapter where Cass will turn into our narrator.