Chapter 21: She Loves Him, She Loves Him Not

The next morning, Grace woke alone in her bed with a dull, persistent ache in her chest. It was relieving to be alone but it also kind of stung weirdly. She truly expected him to defy her wishes.

Grace washed up and emerged from her bathroom in nothing but a towel.

He wasn’t there standing in the corner by the door.

She dried off and dropped the towel on the carpet, hunting in the buff through her dresser drawers for undergarments she liked.

He didn’t coporealize on her bed.

She put on the bra and thong. He didn’t summon her in a scandalous state of undress into his room.

Well of course he didn’t do that. He can’t do that anymore. And anyway, he probably hasn’t even tried.

She selected the next cheeriest thing she had in her closet: a teal tank top and denim capris. She pulled on the capris first.

He didn’t appear from shadows curling up from the floor.

Then she slipped on the tank top over her head.

And still, Grace was alone in her room.

She tried not to dwell on it as she piled her hair up into a bun atop her head between her horns.

It was—same as when she first moved into the Hazbin Hotel—hunger to draw her from her room. She joined everyone in the dining room for breakfast. Alastor appeared a few minutes later, sipping from his OH DEER mug and staring at her in silence. Smiling. As if nothing at all had changed between them, as if nothing was wrong.

Wash, rinse, repeat; a week went by that that scenario played itself over and over again each day.

And with each of those seven days, Grace grew more incensed; awaken alone in bed. Emerge from the shower in nothing but a towel and with nobody in her room waiting for her.

That Sunday, Grace knew she wasn’t hiding her emotions well at all anymore, her whole face burning with unadulterated fury as she stared daggers at Alastor who sat across the dining room table from her. He was as far away as he could get and still share the table with her, but was directly across from her; probably his twisted strategy to place himself in her line of sight.

Grace had just finished choking down her breakfast when Kofax asked her to go shopping with her. Anything sounded more appealing than staying in the hotel, so Grace agreed enthusiastically.

She was not so disillusioned as to believe Kofax had no ulterior motive with the invitation but silently prayed she’d be pleasantly surprised, nonetheless.

They stopped for lunch at a Chick-fil-A built just a few blocks from the mall. Grace had few options from which to choose; all main courses had meat. So she ordered a kale salad, potato fries, and a berry parfait knowing fully well she’d return to the hotel starved despite ‘all that’ food.

“So … how’re you holding up?” Kofax finally inquired halfway through her chicken sandwich.

Grace took a long sip of soda before finally deciding on, “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Kofax returned an unimpressed raised eyebrow. “I’ve watched you all week. You’re getting angrier and angrier. I’m really worried you’re going to give yourself an aneurysm or something.”

“Okay. Fine. You’re right: I’m pissed.”

“Why?”

“Why?!” Grace echoed in dismay. “You’re seriously asking me why I’m pissed.”

Kofax’s gaze darted around the restaurant, her cheeks darkening. There were other sinners there trying to eat. It may have been a fast food restaurant—and in Hell, no less—but Grace’s outburst obviously disturbed the other patrons. “Yes. I’m seriously asking why you’re pissed.”

“It’s been a week. He hasn’t even tried apologizing to me!”

Kofax blinked, her mouth falling open. 

“What?” Grace asked through clenched teeth. “What’s that look for?”

Reluctantly, Kofax said, “I genuinely fear for my afterlife pointing this out to you but … you did demand he not to talk to you. You basically told him that as far as you’re concerned, you no longer exist to him.”

“That’s beside the point! If he truly wanted me for more than my ability to—” Grace stopped herself just short of saying “heal him,” and promptly wondered why the fuck she was still keeping that a secret from everyone when that detail had not been part of their agreement. Besides: their agreement was broken and he could aspirate brimstone as far as she cared.

“—to make him feel truly loved for the first time in his afterlife?” Kofax supplied in Grace’s silence.

Grace bristled. “Yeah, sure, why not, let’s go with that. If he truly wanted me for more than that, he’d defy my wishes and try to reconcile. He’s never once followed my requests before. In fact, he’s always done the exact opposite of what I’ve asked … and he picks the single worst time to finally do as I say?!” 

Kofax cocked her head and shrugged a single shoulder in a ‘yeah, okay, I guess that’s reasonable’ kind of way.

“I just … can’t believe he let me go like that. No fight. No effort, whatsoever, to salvage whatever it was we had. I thought—” Grace sighed. “I don’t know what I thought.”

I let myself believe that maybe I meant something to him even though I knew that couldn’t be true.

“I guarantee he’s kicked back arrogantly in his chair at his radio controls and counting down the seconds ’til you go crawling back to him.”

“Wait. I thought you didn’t dislike him anymore,” Grace said quietly. “I thought you want me forgiving him?”

“I only started to come around to him because of how much you liked him, Gracie Films. I will always side with you. No matter what. So right now? He can kiss my pert little ass. He won’t, of course, but he can.” Kofax took a lengthy sip of her soda through its straw.

Grace bit her lip, studying the scratched-up veneer on the Chick-fil-A tabletop. “Yeah … I hate breaking this to you, but to misquote Shakespeare: though her butt be pert, it is not little.”

Kofax snorted a bit of soda through her nose. Covering it up with her hand as her eyes watered, Kofax replied, “There’s my feisty and funny bestie! I’ve missed her!”

After being nagged to her second death about her prospects for redemption, Grace deigned to attend another of Charlie’s hotel exercises. 

Lucifer was there but more to Grace’s disdain, Alastor was in attendance, too.

The group was already situated in their spots when Grace entered the room. The last available seat was nearest the entryway beside Alastor on the couch; Grace elected to sit on the floor as far from him as she could get. That did position her obnoxiously cornered in the room with no easy escape, but better that than being near him.

“Grace!” Charlie greeted her. “I’m so glad you joined us! This is a very special exercise I’ve been hanging onto for a week, now.” She held Alastor’s gaze as she opened the lesson: “Breaking a promise can significantly damage a relationship.”

Grace swallowed a scowl; of course this was about what Alastor had done to her.

“A broken promise erodes trust, which is the very foundation of any healthy connection. Broken promises can lead to feelings of betrayal, disappointment, and hurt in the person who relied on that commitment.”

Shut up, Charlie. Just shut the fuck up. I don’t want this right now. Grace was pretty sure she didn’t want it, ever.

“Forgiveness is the act of extending mercy to those who’ve harmed us, even if you feel like they don’t deserve it. It’s not about making excuses for the soul’s behavior or pretending the incident didn’t happen.”

Obviously coached by and rehearsed with her girlfriend, Vaggie asked, “What are the benefits of offering forgiveness to someone who’s hurt you?”

“I’m so glad you asked!” replied Charlie with a huge grin. “Forgiving others can give us a sense of safety and can even reverse the lies that we tell ourselves when someone really hurts us—things like ‘I deserved that betrayal.’”

Grace lowered her gaze. Oh stop it, Charlie. Please stop.

Charlie continued, “There are eight keys to forgiveness. First, forgiveness starts with committing to making a conscious effort not to talk disparagingly about someone who’s hurt you.” She cast a tentative smile at Grace. “I’m not saying you have to say good things about him; but if you refrain from talking negatively, at least, it’ll feed the more forgiving side of your mind and heart.”

Grace glanced at Alastor. Fucking piece of shit egotistical sadistic asshole. She took a slow breath. Okay, so not talking disparagingly about him isn’t happening anytime soon.

“The second key is to recognize that every soul is unique and irreplaceable. It’s important to cultivate this mindset of valuing our common humanity, so that it becomes harder to discount someone as unworthy of your forgiveness.”

He’s a psychopath serial killer in Hell. He has no humanity, let alone any in common with me.

“The third key is acknowledging your inner pain. Doing this will give you a place to begin your path to forgiving others. The more hurt you’ve incurred, the more important it is to forgive them if you wish to experience your own emotional healing.

“The fourth key,” Charlie continued without interruption, “is to develop a forgiving mind through empathy. Empathy is connected to forgiveness and is a critical step in the process. If you examine some of the details in the life of the person who harmed you, you can often see more clearly what wounds they carry and start to develop empathy for them.”

Grace narrowed her eyes at Charlie. Fuck. No.

“First, try to imagine them as an innocent child, needing love and support. Did they get that from their parents? If babies don’t receive attention and love from their primary caregivers, then they won’t be able to form any attachment to them, which can damage trust. In the long run, it may prevent the neglected baby from ever getting close to others and set a trajectory of loneliness and conflict for the rest of their lives. And afterlives.”

Hunter never bonded with Travis. Was Charlie really suggesting that Hunter may have been set on a path similar to Alastor’s? Grace dropped her gaze, face blooming with the heat of anger.

“You may be able to put an entire narrative together for the person who hurt you—from early childhood through adulthood—or just imagine it from what you know about them. You may be able to see their physical frailties and psychological suffering, and begin to understand the common humanity that you share. You may recognize them as a vulnerable soul who was wounded, and who wounded you in return. Despite what they may have done to hurt you, you realize that they didn’t deserve to suffer, either. Recognizing that we all carry wounds in our hearts can help open doors to forgiveness.”

Grace forced herself to glance up from her hands where she’d clasped them in her lap. Charlie was focused on Lucifer.

Oh. Well, that’s interesting. Maybe then this topic wasn’t just for me.

“The fifth key,” Charlie continued, moving her attention to Vaggie, “is to try and find meaning in your suffering. When we suffer a lot—which I know all of us here do; after all, we’re in Hell—it’s important that we find meaning in what we’ve endured.” 

“Without seeing meaning, a soul can lose all sense of purpose, which can lead to hopelessness and a despairing conclusion that there is no meaning to our existence. That doesn’t mean we seek out suffering in order to grow or to try finding goodness in another’s bad actions. Instead, we try to see how our own suffering has changed us in a positive way.

“So even as we suffer, it’s possible to develop short-term and sometimes long-range goals in our afterlives. Some souls begin to think about how they can use their suffering to cope, because they’ve become more resilient. They may also realize that their suffering has altered their perspective regarding what’s important to them.”

Here, Alastor opened his stupid mouth. “The very best souls are ones who use their suffering to ensure others don’t have to endure the same pains.”

Charlie, again, practically had hearts leaping off her body.

Grace, however, saw red. Much too much red. She knew by how the air started sizzling in her ears and glimmering golden around her that she was assuming her full demonic form—which she had yet to see for herself. Maybe this time she’d be so angry for so long, she’d see it. Maybe she’d be permanently stuck that way. Whatever, who cares? Her appearance didn’t matter to anyone, anyway. And even when there was the potential for it to matter—with Alastor—it still didn’t. She could be the fugliest damn ogre to ever exist and that would be just as well.

“Thank you for that lovely bit of wisdom,” Charlie said with a goofy, sappy grin. 

Grace rolled her eyes out loud.

“Now, some may choose to focus more on the beauty of the world or decide to give service to others in need. Some may find meaning by speaking their truth or by strengthening their inner resolve. If I were to give one answer, it’d be that we should use our suffering to become more loving and to pass that love onto others—especially those who’ve hurt us.”

Fuck you, you fucking fuck. 

Charlie added, her gaze softening on Grace, “I suppose that’s another way of saying someone who’s been hurt uses their suffering to help prevent others from experiencing that pain. Which I believe is something I’ve mentioned about seeing in you, before, Grace. And now others see that about you, too. It’s an admirable trait.”

Grace crossed her arms over her chest and said nothing.

“The sixth key,” said Charlie in Grace’s silence, “is to develop a forgiving heart. Some souls believe that it’s impossible to love another who’s harmed you. But most souls who forgive will eventually find a way to open their hearts again to others—and even to the soul who hurt them.” 

Grace muttered, “Shameful.”

“Pardon?” Charlie asked, blinking as she leaned back in her seat.

“Oh, I’m sure you know that old adage: ‘fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me?’ To forgive someone and open your heart again is to allow them free rein to hurt you again. And if you give them the chance to hurt you after they’ve already hurt you before, you’re the one at fault for giving them that opportunity.”

“Wow,” Husker scoffed under his breath. “And I thought I was bitter!”

“… Which leads perfectly into my next point! Thanks, Husk!” Charlie chirped. “If you shed bitterness and replace it with love—and then repeat this with many other souls—”

Grace couldn’t help herself from interjecting, “Then you’re a forgiveness whore?”

“Grace!” Angel Dust cried in dismay, although he couldn’t help laughing.

Charlie took a steadying breath, slowly continuing, “No. You become freed to love more widely and deeply. This kind of transformation can create a legacy of love that can last an eternity.”

Lame and unrealistic.

“The seventh key,” said Charlie, “may seem counterintuitive, but you need to forgive yourself.”

“Why?” Grace challenged, glowering once more at Alastor. “I wasn’t the one who hurt me.”

“Most of us tend to be harder on ourselves than we are on others and so we struggle to love ourselves,” Charlie replied to Grace. She then leveled a hard stare at Alastor. “If you’re not feeling lovable because of actions you’ve taken, you may need to work on self-forgiveness and offer to yourself what you offer to others who hurt you: a sense of inherent worth, despite your actions.”

Alastor dropped Charlie’s gaze and his smile seemed a little more gritted-tooth than grin.

“In self-forgiveness, you honor yourself as a person, even if you’re imperfect—and who among us isn’t? If you’ve broken your personal standards in some serious way, there’s a danger of sliding into self-loathing. You need to recognize this and move toward self-compassion. Soften your heart toward yourself. After you’ve been able to self-forgive, you’ll also need to engage in seeking forgiveness from others who you’ve harmed and right those wrongs as best you can.” 

Charlie paused, then added slowly—directed once more at Alastor—“And it’s very important to be prepared for the possibility that the other person may not be ready to forgive you just yet. You’ll need to practice patience and humility, even if that feels impossible to do.”

“Patience and humility.” Grace snorted. “Two things Alastor’s well-known for.”

Before anyone could add to Grace’s astute quip, Charlie said, “The last key in this process is to know that when forgiveness is hard, you should call upon other strengths. Forgiveness is always challenging when we’re dealing with the deep trespasses of others. In fact, I’ve known souls who’ll refuse to use the word ‘forgiveness’ because it pisses them off so much.”

Grace scoffed and rolled her eyes even if that last bit described her to a tee.

“And you know what? That’s okay! We’ve all got our own timelines for when we can be merciful. But if you want to forgive and are finding it hard, it might help to call upon other resources.” Charlie focused on Grace. “I’m happy to be a resource. I’m sure everyone else here, is, too.”

“Just to be clear, Charlie,” Grace said, “I’ve never had a problem forgiving others. I’m probably the most foolishly forgiving soul you’ll ever meet.” Grace turned her attention to Alastor, shooting eye-daggers at him. “But in order for one to earn forgiveness, they must first apologize for what they’ve done. And the apology won’t hold any weight unless the offending behavior changes. Which it won’t.” She slowly got to her feet, now staring Alastor down from across the room. “Because tigers don’t change their stripes.”

Everyone remained silent. Uncomfortably so.

Having had enough of being made to feel like an unforgiving piece of shit for not extending mercy to someone undeserving of it, Grace stalked to the entryway of the room, snapping at Alastor as she passed him. “You’re vile!”

He jumped up from his chair and followed her.

Now he followed. Finally he followed. 

After a week, he decided she was worth fighting for? Too little, too late.

No; it couldn’t be that. She’d probably pressed his buttons enough that she pissed him off and he wanted to confront her about it.

He took fewer strides to cover the same distance, mounting several steps with ease compared to her hurried individual ones.

At her bedroom, Alastor caught the door with a smack of his palm before she could slam it in his face. 

Grace whipped around, leveling a scowl that should’ve made him shrivel up in his spot and re-die.

Instead, he held her gaze with that same, placid smile he always wore. But then he opened his mouth: “Maybe tigers don’t change their stripes, but deer change their spots.”

“Oh what the fuck, shut up, they do not,” Grace spat. “Go away!”

“Yes! They do! Deer fawns lose their spots when they’re between 90 and 120 days old and start growing their winter coats. And this deer did change his spots. For you.” He glanced toward the ceiling with an altogether shy little smile and augmented, “Granted, it took him 120 years, give or take one or two.”

Grace suspected that was meant to make her laugh or smile or somehow soften her hardened heart. It did none of those things.

In her scowling silence, Alastor told her, “You obviously haven’t had enough time to cool off. So … I’ll give you your space and however much time you need. You can return to me when you’re ready.”

So she took what he gave her freely, slamming the door on him with a yelled, “Fuck you!” 

When she turned to look at her bed, there sat the little stuffed teddybear in the conductor uniform that Alastor had given her for Christmas.

Grace collapsed to the floor in a sobbing heap.

Until next Wednesday, deer friends!