I'd Make a Deal With God

"The new contestant should show up today," Kathryn neutrally said.

"Today?" Sara asked quizzically. "Why do you say that?"

"It's the last date night of the week, isn't it?" Kathryn answered matter-of-factly. "Kendra said she'd be joining us for the next round, and I doubt she'd want this person to miss out on a round of transformations."

"That's true," Sara stretched out in the bed as she sat up. "Do you think it's gonna be someone we know?"

"Someone we know?" Kathryn repeated, her brow furrowing slightly. "It's possible, I suppose. Given the nature of this… production, anything is possible. But it's equally likely to be someone entirely new, someone specifically chosen to disrupt the existing dynamics."

Sara nodded slowly, considering Kathryn's words. "You think they're trying to stir things up?"

"Kendra thrives on chaos," Kathryn said, her voice dry. "It's her primary method of entertainment. A new contestant, especially one with a pre-existing connection to someone here, would provide ample opportunity for drama."

"Bingo," Sara said. "Pre-existing connection to someone here."

"It's gonna be a connection to Turner," Kathryn waved. "He's the common link between everyone here. Becca's boyfriend, Paige's ex, Emma's mentor, Abby's roommate, your sister's friend, my coworker, Lana's best friend, and the other three of us are loosely connected."

"So, what do we do?" Sara asked, her gaze meeting Kathryn's. "Do we try to figure out who it is? Try to get ahead of the game?"

Kathryn paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. "We observe," she said finally. "We watch, we listen, we analyze. We gather information. We don't make any assumptions, and we don't reveal our hand until we have a clear picture of the situation."

"That sounds… cautious," Sara said, a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Caution is essential in this environment," Kathryn replied, her tone firm. "Especially when dealing with someone like Kendra. She excels at exploiting weaknesses, at manipulating emotions. We cannot afford to give her any leverage."

"But what if they're friendly?" Sara asked, tilting her head. "What if they're someone we can trust?"

"Trust is a luxury we cannot afford," Kathryn said, her voice flat. "Not entirely. Not until we have concrete evidence of their intentions. Even then, we must remain vigilant."

"That's… a little harsh," Sara said softly. "Don't you think?"

"Harsh, perhaps," Kathryn conceded. "But necessary. We are not here to make friends. We are here to survive. And to survive, we must be ruthless."

"But we are friends," Sara countered, her voice laced with a hint of hurt. "Aren't we?"

Kathryn sighed with resignation. "We are. I...I can't deny that we have that. I just don't know if I have enough in me to trust someone completely random."

"Not completely random," Sara pointed out. "Someone tied to Turner. That has to count for something, right?"

"Maybe," Kathryn conceded, her gaze drifting towards the window. "But we cannot allow sentiment to cloud our judgment. We must remain objective."

Sara sighed, a hint of frustration in her voice. "You make it sound like we're robots, Kathryn. We're not. We have feelings. We have connections."

"Feelings are a liability," Kathryn said, her voice flat. "Connections can be broken. We must rely on ourselves, on our own abilities."

"That's a lonely way to live," Sara murmured sadly. "I feel like you've been slowly falling farther and farther away from feeling ever since I've known you."

"It's just...everything that happened with Becca has got me on edge," Kathryn blurted out. "The way Kendra just changed her...it's got me all messed up...I have to keep my head in the game."

"Again, that's..." Sara sighed deeply out of concern. "That's no way to spend your time, you're going to drive yourself mad. Don't you remember what Charlotte said?"

"About how I'm afraid to admit the truth?" Kathryn rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I think I'm past that."

"No, about how you need to not be afraid to feel more," Sara corrected. "You're too scared to let yourself go. To let yourself experience the moment. The other day, it was great! What happened on the beach, that was amazing. But now you're just back to the closed-off, completely analytical Kathryn."

"I'm pragmatic," Kathryn corrected, her gaze fixed on the wall. "There's a difference."

"Pragmatic? Or terrified?" Sara challenged, her voice softer now. "Terrified of what might happen if you let yourself feel something, anything, for longer than a few minutes?"

Kathryn's jaw tightened, and she turned away, her back to Sara. "That's enough, Sara."

"No, it's not," Sara said, her voice firm. "We're friends, and I'm worried about you. You're shutting yourself off, and I don't know why. But I know it's not healthy."

"You don't understand," Kathryn said, her voice low. "You can't understand."

"Then make me understand," Sara pleaded, stepping closer. "Tell me what's going on. Tell me why you're so afraid."

Kathryn hesitated, her gaze flickering towards Sara, then away again. "It's… complicated," she murmured.

"Everything's complicated," Sara said, her voice gentle. "But that doesn't mean we can't talk about it. It doesn't mean we have to be alone."

Kathryn took a deep breath, her shoulders slumping slightly. "It's not about being alone," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "It's about being ****. It's about… trusting."

"Trusting me?" Sara asked, her voice laced with a hint of hurt.

"Trusting anyone," Kathryn corrected, her voice flat. "Trusting myself. I've learned… the hard way, that feelings are easily manipulated. That people are… unreliable."

"What happened, Kathryn?" Sara asked, her voice soft. "What made you so afraid?"

Kathryn remained silent for a long moment, her gaze fixed on the floor. Finally, she spoke, her voice low and strained. "It doesn't matter," she said. "It's in the past."

"It matters to me," Sara said, her voice firm. "It matters because it's affecting you. It's affecting us."

Kathryn sighed, running a hand through her hair. "There was someone," she began, her voice hesitant. "Someone I trusted. Someone I… cared about. And they… they betrayed me. They used my trust against me. They… they made me look like a fool."

"And that's why you don't trust anyone anymore?" Sara asked, her voice gentle.

"It's not just that," Kathryn said, her voice laced with bitterness. "It's the way they did it. The way they… manipulated me. The way they made me feel like I was the one who was wrong. Like I was the one who was… naive."

"I'm sorry, Kathryn," Sara said, her voice filled with empathy. "That must have been awful."

"It was," Kathryn said, her voice flat. "And I won't let it happen again."

"But you can't live your life like this," Sara said, her voice pleading. "You can't shut yourself off from everyone. You're missing out on so much."

"I'm surviving," Kathryn said, her voice firm. "That's all that matters."

"But is it living?" Sara countered. "Or is it just… existing?"

Kathryn remained silent, her gaze fixed on the floor.

"Look," Sara said, stepping closer and placing a hand on Kathryn's arm. "I understand you're scared. But you don't have to be. Not with me. I won't betray you. I won't manipulate you. I won't make you look like a fool."

"You can't promise that," Kathryn looked up at her roommate, her expression a mix of fear and longing. "Everything I've heard here about promises, it's been hollow."

"Maybe not," Sara said, her voice gentle. "But I can promise you that I'll try. I can promise you that I'll be here for you. And I can promise you that I won't give up on you."

"How can I believe that?" Kathryn countered. "I've had countless things said to me about what a leader 'promises' something, and if I believed all of that, we'd likely have been hit by a terrorist attack."

"I'm hardly a terrorist, Kathryn," Sara replied, deadpan. "You know me better than that and you know it."

Kathryn hesitated, her gaze searching Sara's. Finally, she nodded slowly. "Okay," she said, her voice soft. "Okay."

"Okay?" Sara repeated. "You sure you're not gonna regress this time?"

"I-I can't promise that," Kathryn responded. "I can promise that I'll try though."

"That's all I ask of you," Sara smiled. "Now, you want to go get some breakfast? Our usual?"

---

The morning light filtering through the sheer curtains woke Becca with a start. She blinked, disoriented, and then her memory of the previous night flooded back. The awkwardness, the shared space, the unexpected intimacy… She groaned, burying her face in the pillow.

She glanced at Turner, who was still asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He looked peaceful, his features softened in sleep. Then her gaze shifted to Abby.

And that’s when she saw it. Abby, curled up against Turner, her arm draped over his chest, her head resting on his shoulder. Becca stifled a gasp, her eyes widening in disbelief.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” she muttered under her breath, her voice barely above a whisper.

She gently nudged Abby, trying to avoid waking her. “Abby,” she whispered, “Abby, wake up.”

Abby stirred, groaning softly. “Five more minutes,” she mumbled, burying her face deeper into Turner’s chest.

Becca’s jaw dropped. “Abby! Get off him!”

Abby’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked around in confusion. “What? What’s wrong?”

“You’re… you’re practically on top of him,” Becca said, gesturing towards Abby’s position. “You were practically spooning him all night.”

Abby blinked, her eyes widening. “Oh my god,” she exclaimed, scrambling off Turner and landing with a thud on the floor. “I am so sorry! I have no idea how that happened. I must have been sleepwalking.”

"Does your sleepwalking usually end up with you cuddled up against someone else's boyfriend?" Becca rolled her eyes.

Turner chuckled, rubbing his eyes. “It’s alright, Becca. It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was terrible!” Becca exclaimed, glaring at her sister. “She were practically draped over you like a koala bear.”

“I’m so sorry,” Abby repeated, her cheeks flushed. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Well, you did,” Becca said, crossing her arms over her chest. “And now I’m going to have to deal with the mental image of you drooling on my boyfriend all night.”

“I wasn’t drooling!” Abby protested, her voice rising.

“Whatever you say,” Becca retorted, turning away to hide a smile.

"...you're smiling," Abby noted.

"I absolutely am not!" Becca shot back, blushing.

Becca huffed, turning away from her sister and Turner. "I was not smiling. I am simply… amused by your ridiculous excuses."

Abby rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. You were totally smiling. I saw it. Turner saw it."

Turner nodded in agreement. "I did. It was a very small smile, but it was definitely there."

Becca shot Turner a playful glare. "Traitor," she muttered.

"Hey, I'm just stating the facts," Turner said, holding up his hands in mock defense. "Besides, it was a cute smile."

Becca's cheeks flushed slightly. "It was not cute," she retorted, turning away again. "It was… a smile of mild amusement."

"Mild amusement?" Abby repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

"Yes, that is what we are calling it," Becca said, her voice firm. "And that is all we are going to say about it."

"What're you going to do when Emma's here later today?" Abby jabbed. "You know full well Kendra's gonna take advantage of her stupid porn logic transformation and that threesome one since you're gonna be in here."

Becca's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of genuine concern crossing her face. "I… I hadn't thought about that," she admitted, her voice softer now. "That's… that's a good point."

"A very good point," Abby emphasized, her tone laced with a hint of mischief. "Kendra's not going to miss an opportunity to stir the pot. Especially with Emma's… enthusiastic transformations."

Turner shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "Yeah, I guess we should probably figure out a plan," he said, his voice thoughtful. "We can't just… hope for the best."

Becca sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Great," she muttered. "Just great. Now I have to worry about Kendra turning my relationship into some kind of… twisted fantasy fulfillment."

"Well, you could always try to avoid Emma," Abby suggested, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Hide in the bathroom, or something."

"That's not helpful, Abs," Becca rolled her eyes, eventually landing them on her sister and glaring at her. "I'm not staying the night in the bathroom."

"Then what are you going to do?" Turner asked, his gaze meeting Becca's. "We need to come up with something."

Becca paused, her brow furrowed in thought. "We could try to talk to Emma," she suggested finally. "Explain the situation. See if she's willing to… cooperate."

"Cooperate?" Abby repeated, her voice laced with skepticism. "How in the hell is she supposed to cooperate when she's literally placed in these situations? Do you remember what she said happened on her last date? Wardrobe malfunction. Ice-skating accident. Power failure. Temperature fluctuation. I bet she didn't want any of those to happen, how is she supposed to cooperate?"

"Okay, okay, you're right," Becca conceded, sighing. "It's not about cooperating, it's about damage control. But we still need to talk to her. Maybe we can… warn her? Give her a heads-up?"

"Warn her?" Abby repeated, her voice laced with skepticism. "Warn her about what? That Kendra's going to turn her into a walking sex fantasy? I don't think that's going to be a surprise to her, given how she described last week."

"It's not about surprises," Becca retorted, her frustration growing. "It's about… options. About trying to minimize the… the awkwardness."

"Awkwardness?" Turner echoed, raising an eyebrow. "I think you're underestimating the potential for… chaos."

"Fine, chaos," Becca snapped, throwing her hands up in the air. "Whatever. The point is, we need to do something. We can't just sit here and wait for Kendra to unleash her… her perversions."

"And what exactly do you propose we do?" Abby asked, her voice laced with sarcasm. "Stage another protest? Demand Kendra give us a 'no-awkwardness' guarantee?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Becca scoffed. "We talk to Emma. We explain the situation. We try to… appeal to her sense of… sisterhood?"

"Sisterhood?" Abby repeated, bursting into laughter. "Becca, you're hilarious. Since when do you care about sisterhood?"

"Since I realized that she is about to be **** into some kind of… orgy with me and my boyfriend," Becca retorted, her cheeks flushing. "That's when."

Turner cleared his throat, trying to diffuse the tension. "Okay, let's not get ahead of ourselves," he said, his voice calm. "We don't know for sure what Kendra's going to do. We're just speculating."

"Speculating based on Kendra's entire history of manipulation and exploitation, plus the fact that Emma has been given two similar transformations so far, and given what happened last week on your date night with her," Becca countered, her voice sharp. "Don't try to downplay this, Turner. This is serious."

"I'm not downplaying it," Turner said, his voice firm. "I'm just saying we need to stay calm. We need to think rationally. We need to come up with a plan."

"And what's your brilliant plan, oh wise one?" Abby asked, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"Talk to Emma," Turner repeated, his gaze meeting Becca's. "Explain the situation. Try to… find a way to work together. To minimize the… potential for chaos."

"And if she refuses?" Becca asked, her voice laced with skepticism. "If she says, 'I can't exactly control that'?"

"She's not gonna say that," Turner said, his voice firm. "Emma is many things. Aloof, sure. Clumsy, you bet. Flirty, strangely all the time now. But she's willing to try."

"Fine," Becca conceded, sighing. "Fine. We talk to Emma. But if she ends up… humping you in front of me, I'm blaming you both."

"Fair enough," Turner said, a small smile playing on his lips.

"And if I end up humping him, I'm blaming Kendra," Abby added, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.

"Don't you even joke about that," Becca glared at her sister. "Hey, isn't it about time for you to go back down to the bungalows where you belong?"

Abby feigned a wounded expression, clutching her chest. "Ouch, Becca. That's cold. I thought we were having a bonding moment."

"A bonding moment involving you practically molesting my boyfriend in your sleep?" Becca retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I think I'll pass."

Turner chuckled, trying to defuse the tension. "Alright, let's not start a war before breakfast. Abby, maybe you should head back to your room before you push too many of her buttons."

"Fine, fine," Abby said, rolling her eyes but standing up. "But I'm not promising I won't be back to check on you two later. Especially if Emma's involved." She gave them a knowing wink before heading towards the door.

"Don't you dare," Becca called after her, but Abby was already gone, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Becca sighed, running a hand through her hair. "She's impossible," she muttered.

"She's your sister," Turner said, a small smile playing on his lips. "You love her."

"That doesn't mean I have to like her all the time," Becca retorted, but a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "So, what now?"

"Now, we get dressed," Turner said, gesturing towards their scattered clothes. "And then find Emma. She needs to be reminded before Kendra decides to play her little games."

Becca nodded, a serious expression crossing her face. "Right. And we need to be prepared. We don't know what Kendra's planning, but we can't afford to be caught off guard."

"Exactly," Turner said, nodding in agreement. "Proactivity, not reactivity."

They began to gather their clothes, a comfortable silence settling between them. The awkwardness of the morning had faded, replaced by a sense of shared purpose.

"You know," Becca said, breaking the silence as she pulled on her jeans, "I'm actually kind of glad we had this… sleepover."

Turner raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Glad?"

"Yeah," Becca said, a small smile playing on her lips. "It was… different. And it made me realize that… well, that things don't have to be so rigid. That we can… adapt."

"Adapt?" Turner repeated, his smile widening. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"Shut up," Becca said, playfully shoving him. "You know what I mean. And besides, you enjoyed it too."

"I did," Turner admitted, his smile genuine. "It was… cozy."

"Cozy?" Becca repeated, rolling her eyes. "That's your word for it?"

"It was a king sized bed, but we somehow made it feel like a twin," Turner teased. "But yes, cozy, and fun."

Becca chuckled, shaking her head. "You're almost as impossible as Abby is," she said, but her voice was laced with affection. "Now, I'm gonna go find Emma before Kendra turns this whole thing into a… a circus."

"Good idea," Turner said, nodding. "The sooner we talk to her, the better."

They finished getting dressed, a sense of determination filling the room. As she headed towards the door, Becca paused, turning back to Turner.

"And Turner?" she said, her voice soft.

"Yeah?" he replied, turning to face her.

"Thanks," she said, her smile genuine. "For… everything."

"You're thanking me?" he asked incredulously. "I should be the one thanking you."

"No, you're putting up with me despite all...this," she countered. "You could have that hot mess and not want to spend time with me, but you're willingly keeping me around...I guess."

"Well, I guess...uh, anytime I guess?" he scratched his head.

Content with that, Becca turned on her heels, ready to find Emma and see what magic she could work.

---

In another dimension…

Her partying throughout the first three years of college showed no sign of slowing down. The cool autumn night had provided the perfect Friday night for a rager, as they say, and Anastasia once again found herself in a frat house with bad music that was too bass-boosted to be heard clearly. But tonight felt different. A restlessness gnawed at her, a sense of dissatisfaction that lingered even amidst the omnipresent energy.

She moved through the crowd, a practiced smile plastered on her face, accepting drinks and engaging in small talk. It was her senior year after all, she might as well enjoy it while she could. She'd perfected the art of the casual conversation, the effortless laughter, the fleeting connections. But tonight, the facade felt heavier than usual. The faces blurred together, the music became a dull throb, and the air, thick with the scent of spilled beer, cheap perfume, and something stale, felt suffocating.

She slipped away from a group of laughing students, her gaze drawn to the darkened window that overlooked the backyard. The moon, a sliver of silver in the inky sky, seemed to mock her with its silent serenity. She longed for that stillness, that sense of peace that had eluded her for so long.

"Care for another sip, darlin'?" an unfamiliar voice with an unmistakable Southern accent asked, interrupting her thoughts.

She turned to face a tall dark-skinned woman wearing a green emerald dress. She looked far too old to be at a college party, but maybe she was a grad student, or maybe she was just one of those people who looked a lot older than her age. Regardless, she was holding two red solo cups filled with some brown liquid.

"No, thank you," Anastasia said, her voice a little sharper than intended. "I'm good."

The woman's eyebrows arched, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. "Are you sure, hon? It's a special mix. The 'house special,' if you will."

Anastasia's gaze narrowed. "I'm sure," she repeated, her tone firm. "I'm actually about to head out."

"Oh, that's a pity," the woman said, her smile widening slightly.

Anastasia shrugged, a sense of unease creeping into her. "Maybe next time," she said, turning away.

She made her way towards the back door, her steps quickening. The air outside was cool and crisp, a welcome contrast to the stifling heat inside. She leaned against the porch railing, taking a deep breath of the night air. The moon, now fully visible, cast a pale glow over the backyard, illuminating the scattered groups of students engaged in hushed conversations.

But even the quiet couldn't quell the restlessness that churned within her. She felt like she was trapped in a loop, a cycle of parties and fleeting connections that led nowhere. Nationals were long over, and she hadn't quite lived up to the expectations she had set for herself. She had placed fifth in the beam competition, not bad, but not nearly good enough to earn a spot on the Olympic team.

She needed something more. Something different. Something... real.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, a text message flashing across the screen. It was from her mother, a string of Russian characters that translated to: "Call me. Now."

Anastasia sighed, pulling out her phone. She knew what this was about. Her mother had been pressuring her to apply for internships, to start thinking about her future. But Anastasia wasn't ready to settle down. She wasn't ready for the nine-to-five grind, the predictable routine. She wanted adventure, excitement, something that would ignite the fire within her.

As she dialed her mom's number, trying to find the quietest spot nearby that wouldn't make it sound like she was at yet another frat party, she noticed the dark-skinned woman again, who was also standing outside. She was just...standing there, watching her.

"What the fuck is her problem?" Anastasia thought as she brought her phone to her ear.

Anastasia pressed her phone to her ear, the familiar sound of her mother's voice, sharp and laced with worry, cutting through the ambient noise of the party. "Anastasia Volkov, where are you?"

"Mom, I told you, I'm at a friend's," Anastasia replied, trying to keep her voice low and steady. "It's Friday night."

"A friend's," her mother repeated, the skepticism evident in her tone. "Or another one of those… gatherings?"

"It's not like that," Anastasia lied, her gaze drifting back to the dark-skinned woman, who was now leaning against a tree, her arms crossed, her eyes fixed on Anastasia. "Look, can we talk about this later? I'm kind of in the middle of something."

"In the middle of wasting your potential," her mother retorted, her typical Russian accent thick. "You placed fifth, Anastasia. Fifth! Not bad, but not good enough. You should be applying for internships, not wasting your time with these… distractions."

"Mom, please," Anastasia pleaded, her voice laced with frustration. "I'm not going to be an Olympic gymnast. I get it. But I'm not going to be some office drone either. I need… something else."

"Something else?" her mother scoffed. "What could be more important than your future?"

"I don't know," Anastasia admitted, her gaze still fixed on the woman. "But I'll figure it out."

"You always say that," her mother sighed. "But you never do. You're going to regret this, Anastasia. You're going to wake up one day and realize you wasted your youth."

"Maybe," Anastasia said, her voice barely a whisper. "But at least I'll have lived it."

She ended the call, the dial tone buzzing in her ear like an angry bee. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling within her.

"Rough conversation?" a smooth, low voice asked.

Anastasia turned to see the dark-skinned woman standing beside her, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

"One could say that," Anastasia replied, her gaze narrowing. "And one could also say that you're very rude for listening in on my phone call."

The woman chuckled, a low, melodic sound. "I wasn't eavesdroppin'. Just observin'. You got a mighty spark, Anastasia Volkov. It draws folks in, like moths to a porch light."

"Is that your way of apologizing?" Anastasia asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Wasn't apologizing," she shrugged. "By the way, I don't believe we've been introduced. I'm Kendra."

"Kendra, right..." Anastasia trepidatiously stuck out her hand. "Wait, how do you know my name? I don't remember offering it..."

"A little birdie whispered it in my ear," Kendra purred, her voice smooth as molasses as she shook Anastasia's hand firmly. "Or maybe, just maybe, I got my own ways of knowin' things."

Anastasia pulled her hand back, a shiver running down her spine. "That's… unsettling," she said, her eyes narrowing. "Who are you, really?"

"Just a lady with an offer, hon'," Kendra said, her voice low and sweet. "An offer I reckon you'll find plumb irresistible."

"An offer?" Anastasia repeated, her brow furrowed. "What kind of offer?"

Kendra gestured towards the darkened edge of the backyard, where the trees formed a thick, impenetrable wall. "A chance to break free," she said, her voice laced with a hint of something that sounded like promise. "A chance to experience somethin'… extraordinary."

"Extraordinary?" Anastasia scoffed, crossing her arms. "Like what? A free trip to Disneyland?"

Kendra chuckled, a low, melodic sound. "Far more than that, dear. A chance to step outside the ordinary, to transcend the mundane. To live a life that most people only dream of."

Anastasia's gaze drifted towards the moon, her mind racing. "And what do I have to do for this… extraordinary life?" she asked, her voice laced with skepticism.

"All you gotta do is… join in," Kendra replied, her eyes dancing. "Join in an experience that'll test ya, change ya, and show ya what you're truly made of."

"Participate in what?" Anastasia pressed, her suspicion growing. "A reality show? Some kind of social experiment?"

"Let's just call it a chance, darlin'," Kendra said, her voice a little cagey. "A chance to step into a world where anything goes. Where dreams come true, just like in the picture shows."

"That sounds like a load of bullshit," Anastasia said bluntly. "And you still haven't explained how you know my name."

Kendra's smile didn't waver. "Like I said, I got my sources. And as for that 'load of bullshit', well...let's just say you know it ain't all smoke and mirrors. How else you explain that feelin' you got right now? That itch for somethin' more? That ain't no lie, is it?"

Anastasia hesitated, her gaze searching Kendra's face. "How… how do you know that?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

"Because I see it," Kendra said, her voice soft. "I see the fire within you, the yearning for something beyond the ordinary. You're not like the others, Anastasia. You're destined for something greater."

"Destined?" Anastasia repeated, a hint of skepticism in her voice. "That's a bit dramatic, don't you think?"

"Is it, though?" Kendra countered, her eyes twinkling like fireflies. "Or is it just the plain ol' truth, the one you been runnin' from all this time?"

Anastasia was silent for a moment, her mind reeling. She couldn't deny the truth in Kendra's words. She had been feeling trapped, yearning for something more. But the idea of stepping into a "world where anything is possible" seemed too good to be true.

"What's the catch?" she asked, her voice laced with suspicion. "There's always a catch."

"The only catch, sweetheart," Kendra said, her smile as wide as the Mississippi, "is that you gotta be willin' to take a leap of faith. Step outside your comfort zone and see what's waitin' on the other side."

"And what if I don't want to embrace the unknown?" Anastasia asked, her voice firm.

"Then you'll stay right here," Kendra said, her voice soft with pity. "Caught in that same ol' rut, always wonderin' 'what if?'" She paused for a second to let the weight of her words sink in, sensing that the Russian girl was seriously considering it. "Think about it. The offer is only open for so long."