RACE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
RACE
ALICE’S POV
“Do you really think of me as a monster, Alice?”
Those words echoed in my mind, circling back every time I tried to push them away. I leaned back against the car seat and slowly rolled down the window, letting the cool night air brush against my face. The streetlights outside blurred into streaks of gold, blending with the dark sky like a quiet river of light. It was peaceful, almost too peaceful compared to the storm swirling inside my head.
“Does she know the real you?”
“That’s none of your business!” Elena’s sharp response had a bite to it, a side of her I rarely saw. I turned my head slowly to face her, curious and a bit wary. She sat right next to me, her fingers twisting nervously around each other, and when she caught me watching, she offered a hesitant, awkward chuckle.
I had always known Elena to be a delicate soul. Yes, she might act a little wild sometimes-going clubbing, indulging in impulsive decisions-but I knew it was her way of coping with stress, a temporary escape from the pressures she kept buried deep. Despite her moments of recklessness, Elena couldn’t even hurt a fly. She was the nerdy girl who had been bullied back in school, the one I had to save countless times. After each incident, she’d pull me into a tight hug and cry her heart out, clinging to me like I was her only lifeline.
Elena grew up in an orphanage, a place where the walls told stories of abandonment and survival. The maids there would often whisper about how her father had left her because he couldn’t afford to raise a child alone after her mother disappeared, leaving her to suffer in a world that seemed to have no place for her. She was barely a year old then, just a baby.
I felt a pang of pity for Elena, but I also admired her. Despite everything, she had grown into a strong, independent woman, someone who shouldered her responsibilities without complaint. There were times when she acted like my elder sister, even though I was technically older. She was the one who would remind me to eat when I forgot, who would scold me gently when I pushed myself too hard.
Elena had always been terrified of violent scenes in movies. It was why she avoided horror films altogether, preferring the safety of romantic comedies or the light-heartedness of cartoons. Yet today, she had shocked me to the core. The girl who couldn’t stand the sight of blood had not only held a gun but had almost shot Liam. She had tackled him, fought with him, and for a moment, she was someone entirely different-a stranger. The contrast was so stark that I struggled to reconcile this side of her with the person I thought I knew.
The word “gangster” floated to the surface of my thoughts, but even that didn’t feel right. It was more like she had become the shadow of herself, a version that only emerged under the most extreme circumstances. And it scared me.
“Boom!” Elena’s voice snapped me back to reality as she clapped her hands right in front of my face. I jolted back, not expecting her sudden movement.
“Are you planning to spend the entire night in the car, witch?” she asked, raising an eyebrow with a mischievous grin. It was only then that I realized she was already out of the car, standing beside my window with her head tilted down slightly.
“As you wish,” I muttered under my breath, reaching up to playfully flick her forehead. She jerked back in surprise, rubbing the spot where my finger had made contact. I pushed the door open and stepped out, slamming it shut behind me. Almost immediately, the cab driver sped off into the night, leaving us standing in the quiet street.
“What was that for?” Elena whined, still rubbing her forehead where I had tapped her.
“For calling me a witch,” I replied, narrowing my eyes at her in mock irritation.
“I wouldn’t have if you weren’t acting like one,” she teased, drawing out the words with a dramatic flair. This girl knew exactly how to push my buttons, and she did it so well. She always had.
I let out a sigh, trying to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “Race you home,” she suddenly announced, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“Don’t, Lena,” I protested, shaking my head. “I’m not in the mood for racing or any competition right now.”
“Why? Too scared to lose to me?” she taunted, her voice dripping with playful challenge. “Alice is a scaredy-cat… Alice is a scaredy-cat,” she repeated in a sing-song voice, adding little claw motions with her hands as if to mock me.
“I’m not scared!” I groaned, rolling my eyes at her childish antics. But deep down, I could feel the competitive side of me starting to stir.
“Then prove it,” she said, winking at me. I knew exactly what was coming next.
“The last person to get home is a chicken!” she declared with a smirk, and before I could even respond, she had already taken off running down the street, her laughter echoing in the night air.
This bitch! I stood there for a moment, watching her disappear into the distance. There was no way I was going to let her win that easily. Gathering up the hem of my gown, I sprinted after her, my feet pounding against the pavement as I pushed myself to catch up.
As I ran, my mind kept replaying the events of the day, trying to make sense of the whirlwind that was Elena. She was always full of surprises, but today had been something else entirely. The gun, the fight with Liam-it was all so out of character for her, yet there she was, running ahead of me like nothing had happened, like we were back to being carefree friends racing each other home after school.
The distance between us began to close, and I could hear her laughing breathlessly up ahead. The sound was infectious, and despite everything, I found myself smiling. This was the Elena I knew-the playful, spirited girl who refused to be outdone, who turned everything into a game.
I caught up to her, matching her pace as we ran side by side. She glanced at me, her face flushed from the exertion, and for a split second, I saw something in her eyes-something dark, a shadow that passed so quickly I almost thought I had imagined it.
“You’re not gonna beat me, Alice!” she panted, pushing herself harder, but her voice wavered, and I wondered if she was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince me.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” I shot back, putting on a burst of speed. We were neck and neck now, the finish line-a metaphorical one, since home wasn’t in sight yet-looming in the distance.
We both laughed as we ran, the tension between us temporarily forgotten in the heat of the competition.
We finally reached the entrance to our street, both of us breathless and flushed with the thrill of the race. Elena slowed to a stop, leaning against a lamppost, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. I joined her, my heart still racing, but not just from the run.
“You almost had me,” she said between breaths, a smile playing on her lips. But there was something in her expression, a flicker of something I couldn’t quite place-was it fear? Regret? I wasn’t sure, but it was there, lingering behind her eyes.
“Yeah, but you’re still the chicken,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.
She laughed, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Maybe I am,” she muttered under her breath, so quietly I almost missed it.
Before I could say anything, she pushed off the lamppost and started walking towards the house, her pace slower, more measured than before. I followed, a knot of unease forming in my stomach. The carefree atmosphere of our race was gone, replaced by a heavy silence that hung between us like a dark cloud.
As we reached the front door, Elena paused, her hand hovering over the doorknob. She turned to me, her expression serious, almost pleading. “Alice, do you ever wonder if… if we really know who we are?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
The question caught me off guard. “What do you mean?”
“I mean… today, I… I didn’t recognize myself,” she admitted, her eyes searching mine for some kind of reassurance, some validation that she wasn’t losing herself.
I didn’t know what to say. The truth was, I didn’t recognize her either. But I couldn’t tell her that-not now, not when she looked so vulnerable. “Elena, you’re the strongest person I know,” I said instead, hoping it was enough to comfort her. “We all have our moments, but that doesn’t change who we are at our core.”
She nodded, but the doubt didn’t leave her eyes. Finally, she turned the knob and pushed the door open, stepping inside. I followed her in, still feeling the weight of her words, the weight of everything that had happened. And as much as I wanted to believe my own words, that we are who we are at our core, a small part of me couldn’t help but wonder… what if Elena was right? What if we don’t really know ourselves at all?