It had been a long day, one of those that seemed to stretch endlessly with bad news piling on. Sarah sat on the edge of her bed, her phone still in her hand from the fight she'd just had with Jake. Well, he wasn’t her boyfriend anymore. She wiped her eyes, feeling the familiar knot of anxiety tighten in her chest. She wanted to feel nothing, just for a while.
In a moment of impulse, Sarah reached for the small bag of weed she had stashed away, something she had tried a couple of times but never really enjoyed. Maybe this time it would work, she thought. Maybe this time, it would make everything go away. She rolled it clumsily and lit it, inhaling deeply. But soon after, instead of the relaxation she craved, a wave of panic washed over her. Her heart raced, her hands trembled, and the walls of her room seemed to close in.
She felt like she was spiraling out of control, her thoughts racing too fast, paranoia gripping her. Desperate and scared, she thought of Emma—the girl who lived next door. Emma had always been so calm, so collected, like nothing ever fazed her. In her panic, Sarah stumbled out of her room and knocked on Emma's door, her voice shaking as she whispered, "I need help."
Emma opened the door, her expression softening as soon as she saw Sarah’s tear-streaked face. “Come in,” she said gently, leading Sarah to the couch. Instead of calling the police or freaking out, Emma seemed oddly knowledgeable about what to do. She offered Sarah a warm blanket, a cup of hot tea, and a variety of snacks—chocolate, chips, sugary cookies.
“You just need to ride this out,” Emma said soothingly. “It’ll pass soon. I promise.”
They sat together, and as the minutes stretched on, Sarah began to feel the fog in her mind lifting, the panic easing under the warmth of Emma’s presence. They chatted about life, about breakups, about how hard it was to be a woman sometimes. Emma seemed like an angel—her voice gentle, her words full of understanding and comfort.
As Sarah’s heartbeat slowed and her breathing steadied, she made a promise. “I’ll never do this again,” she said, looking at Emma with wide eyes. “I swear, I’ll never touch weed again.”
Emma smiled, almost knowingly. “It’s good you feel that way now,” she said.
Hours passed, and by the time Sarah left Emma’s apartment, she felt like a new person. Emma had been there for her in the moment she needed someone most, and Sarah was grateful beyond words.
★★★
A few days later, feeling better and wanting to return the favor, Sarah knocked on Emma’s door again. This time, she wasn’t in distress. She had a plan—something to show her appreciation. When Emma opened the door, Sarah held up a small bag of weed with a sheepish grin.
“I know I said I wouldn’t touch it again,” Sarah began, “but I figured maybe we could have some together. You know, as a thank you for helping me the other night.”
Sarah expected Emma to refuse, to remind her of the promise she'd made while she was scared and vulnerable. But instead, Emma’s eyes lit up with delight.
“Sure,” Emma said with a laugh. “Why not?”
They rolled the joint together, and soon, the room was filled with lazy clouds of smoke. As they sat on the couch, giggling and talking, Sarah watched Emma. Something was different this time. The warm glow that had surrounded her neighbor that first night—the angelic, comforting presence—seemed to flicker and change. Now, in the dim light, with Emma’s eyes red and her laughter loud, Sarah felt an unsettling shift.
Emma looked wild, her smile a little too wide, her laughter a little too sharp. The more Sarah watched her, the more Emma’s features seemed to twist and distort. What had been angelic now seemed... sinister. Emma’s carefree attitude, her joy at the chaos of the moment, unnerved Sarah. She realized with a jolt that the woman sitting next to her wasn’t an angel anymore.
No, she looked more like a devil!
Sarah’s heart thudded in her chest. Who had she made that promise to before? The angel who had saved her? Or the devil who now reveled in her fall?
She wasn’t sure anymore.
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