Chapter 14: New Light I needed to get my head right. I needed to get my life back on track. And the first step was admitting I had a problem. I looked over at my nightstand, and I see my jewelry. I see my earrings. I grab my earrings, the stud and the hoop. I look at them for a second. Then, I put them on, on my left ear. I stared back at my reflection. The earrings glinted under the dim bathroom light, small rebellious sparks against the backdrop of my messed-up face. The stud, a simple silver dot, and the hoop, a thin circle of defiance. I hadn't worn them in a while. Not since… before everything went to shit. What the fuck was I doing? Last night. That girl. I scrubbed a hand across my face, the memory still raw. Demitra’s words echoed in my head: *You stopped.* Yeah, I stopped. But I almost didn't. I splashed cold water on my face again, trying to shock myself back to reality. The earrings felt foreign, a reminder of a Jim I thought I knew, a Jim who wouldn't even consider… that. But that Jim was gone. Or maybe he was just buried under layers of anger, betrayal, and self-pity. I needed to talk to someone. Demitra had helped last night, more than she probably knew. But a phone call wasn't enough. I needed to see her, to see the kindness in her eyes, to know that someone believed I wasn't a monster. It was late. Probably too late. But the thought of being alone with my thoughts for another minute was unbearable. I pulled out my phone and hesitated, staring at her name. What was I even going to say? “Hey, remember that near-psychotic breakdown I had last night? Well, I'm still a mess, can I come over?” Smooth, Jim. Real smooth. I cursed under my breath, then hit the call button before I could overthink it. It rang twice before she answered, her voice soft and sleepy. "Hello?" "Demitra, it's Jim." There was a pause. "Jim? Is everything okay? It's… really late." "Yeah, no, I mean, not really," I stammered. "Can I… can I come over? Is that okay?" I braced myself for a rejection, for her to tell me she needed sleep, that she had her own life. But instead, she surprised me. "Yeah," she said softly. "Yeah, come over. I'll leave the door unlocked." Relief washed over me so intensely I almost sagged against the bathroom counter. "Thanks, Demitra. I owe you one." "Just get here safe," she said. "See you in a few." I hung up, my heart still racing, but with a different kind of energy this time. Not the frantic, desperate energy of last night, but something… hopeful. I threw on a hoodie and grabbed my keys, practically sprinting out of the apartment. My parents were asleep, Keithie was probably playing video games, and Becky was probably dreaming about ponies. Or whatever nine-year-old girls dream about. The city was quiet, the streets slick with a light rain. The neon signs of the delis and bodegas cast a hazy glow, painting the streets in streaks of red and green. I walked fast, my mind racing. Demitra lived in a brownstone in the Upper East Side, a world away from the chaos of my own life. I found the building easily enough, the door slightly ajar as she'd promised. I pushed it open and stepped inside, into a dimly lit hallway that smelled faintly of cinnamon and old books. I hesitated for a moment, feeling like I was intruding. What if she had changed her mind? What if she was regretting her offer already? I took a deep breath and climbed the stairs, following the soft glow of light that spilled from the open door on the second floor. I reached the landing and saw her, standing in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the warm light of her apartment. She was wearing sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. She looked tired, but her eyes were kind, understanding. "Hey," she said softly, a small smile playing on her lips. "Come in." I stepped inside, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease slightly. The apartment was small but cozy, filled with books and plants and the soft scent of lavender. It felt… safe. "Sorry for coming so late," I said, feeling awkward all of a sudden. "I just… I needed to talk to someone in person." She nodded, understanding. "I figured. Want some tea? Or… something stronger?" "Tea's good," I said. "Thanks." She led me into the kitchen, a tiny space with mismatched cabinets and a vintage fridge covered in magnets. She put the kettle on and turned to me, her expression concerned. "So," she said, leaning against the counter. "What's going on in that head of yours?" I hesitated, unsure where to start. "I almost… I almost did something really bad last night," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "With that girl, at the party. I lost it, Demitra. I almost crossed a line I can't come back from." Her expression didn't change, didn't flicker with judgment or disgust. She just listened, her eyes fixed on mine. "It was like… all the anger, all the pain, it just took over," I continued, feeling the words spill out of me like a dam had broken. "I wanted to hurt her, to make her feel the way I felt. I wanted to punish her for what Valeria did, for what Miguel did. I wanted to… destroy something." I paused, shame washing over me again. "And for a second, I thought I actually would do it, that I'm a terrible person, and I'd actually do it, if I didn't stop myself, and I almost didn't." She reached out and took my hand, her touch gentle but firm. "But you did stop, Jim. You stopped. That's what matters." "But what if I hadn't?" I asked, my voice thick with emotion. "What if I'm just… pretending to be a good person? What if that's who I really am, deep down?" She squeezed my hand, her eyes searching mine. "I don't believe that," she said firmly. "I don't believe that for a second. You called me, Jim. You came here. That shows me that you're not that person, that you don't want to be that person." The kettle whistled, breaking the tension. She let go of my hand and turned to make the tea, her movements calm and deliberate. "Look," she said, as she poured the hot water into two mugs. "What happened with Valeria… it was awful. It was a betrayal, and it hurt you deeply. But that doesn't give you the right to take it out on someone else. And it doesn't define who you are." She handed me a mug, the warmth seeping into my cold hands. "You're Jim Feder," she said, her voice soft but firm. "You're the guy who lights up the basketball court, the guy who makes his teammates laugh, the guy who secretly cares about his little sister. You're not a monster, Jim. You're a human being, and human beings make mistakes. The important thing is that you learn from them." I took a sip of the tea, the warmth spreading through me, calming my nerves. "It's just… it's hard, you know? To feel all this anger and not know what to do with it." "I know," she said, nodding. "It is. But you can't let it consume you. You have to find healthy ways to deal with it. Talk to someone, write it down, punch a pillow… just don't let it turn you into someone you're not." We sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping our tea, the only sound the gentle hum of the refrigerator. I looked around the apartment, at the books and the plants and the candles, and I felt a sense of peace I hadn't felt in days. Demitra was right. I couldn't let the anger consume me. I had to find a way to move on, to forgive Valeria, to forgive myself. But it wasn't going to be easy. "Thanks, Demitra," I said, finally breaking the silence. "For… everything. For listening, for not judging me, for just being here." She smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reached her eyes. "Anytime, Jim," she said. "Really. I'm here for you, always." I met her gaze, really saw her for the first time. Not just as Demitra Kalogeras, the pretty girl who flirted with me, but as Demitra, the kind, compassionate, understanding person who had pulled me back from the brink. And in that moment, I realized that maybe, just maybe, I was starting to see her in a new light. I stood up, feeling a sudden urge to hug her, to express my gratitude in a physical way. But I hesitated, unsure if it was appropriate. She must have sensed my hesitation, because she stood up too and stepped forward, opening her arms. I didn't hesitate any longer. I wrapped my arms around her, burying my face in her hair, inhaling the scent of lavender and vanilla. She held me tight, her arms firm and comforting around my back. I closed my eyes, letting the tension drain out of me, feeling the weight on my chest lighten slightly. This wasn't the frantic, desperate embrace of last night, the violent, destructive embrace I had craved. This was something different, something genuine, something… comforting. This was what I needed. This was what I had been missing. We stood there for a long time, just holding each other, the silence broken only by the sound of our breathing. Finally, I pulled back, breaking the embrace. "I should go," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "It's getting late." "Okay," she said, nodding. "But promise me you'll be okay." "I promise," I said, meeting her gaze. "I will." She walked me to the door, her hand lingering on my arm for a moment before she let go. "Call me if you need anything," she said. "Anything at all." "I will," I said. "Thanks again, Demitra. You're a lifesaver." I stepped out into the hallway, turning back to give her one last smile. "Goodnight, Jim," she said, her voice soft. "Goodnight, Demitr