Page 56 of The Kiss of Deception

“I don’t like him. I swear to God, I only recently decided I didn’t hate him. He can be thoroughly arrogant and annoying, you kno—”

“Stop trying to fool me.” Well, at least I die with the knowledge I excel at everything I do, including acting. Except baking. And painting my toe nails. “And do not insult him!”

I swallow, no trace of saliva in my mouth.

The robot is shedding skin, leaving a psychotic, erratic girl with a fucking gun.

Her hand twitches, and with it, the gun. I’ve fooled myself in trying to keep my last sliver of sanity, delusional for even for a second thinking I could be the one in control when a psychotic bitch holds me at gunpoint. And somehow, it finally becomes real. Like I was dreaming until now, and now I’m awake but the nightmare continues.

A gun.

The roses tumble to the floor, stems and petals scattering on the floor, as my hands raise like they can shield me from a fucking gun.

“I know him better than you. I’ve known him for years.”

“Okay. I believe you. Just put the gun down, please!”

“Shut up.”

“I’m sor—”

“Shut. The. Hell. Up.”

I screw my eyes shut and thin my lips, trap them with my teeth so no sound escapes.

“You must disappear from his life. There’s no place for you in our lives.” I can’t tell whether she’s telling me or talking to herself, thinking out loud. “But if you die, he’ll always wonder. You’ll always be the one he compares me to. He’ll never let you go.”

“So, you’re not going to kill me?” I dare to hope in a half plea, half sigh.

“No, I am.” Well, hope is a bitch. “He just won’t know you're dead. By the time he finds out, we’ll be too happy together for him to even think about you, at all.”

She doesn’t fidget, doesn’t hesitate. A woman on a mission, there’s no reasoning that’ll deter her from finishing what she came here to do.

Shocking, huh?

Fuck.

I think I'm going to die today. It’s such a beautiful day to die, today.

Outside, the sun shines upon the city on the first day of summer, a beacon of hope that comes with each new season. Life goes on, people busy in their mundane worries and ordinary chores.

It’s humbling to think I’m about to die, and life will continue just the same without me.

“Where’s your phone?” Lucy demands.

“What?”

“Are you deaf or dumb? Your phone.”

“Um… I don’t know. In the kitchen, I think.”

It’s not. It’s somewhere on one of the couches, where it always gets stuck in the pillows.

I don’t know why she wants it, but whatever it is, it’s surely not for my benefit. I won’t make the logistics of my demise easier for her.

Plus, if she goes to the kitchen, I can try to lock myself here and grab the phone to call the police. Or, if she makes me go to the kitchen, I’ll discreetly try to grab something that can draw blood.

“Why?” I ask, trying not to sound hopeful.

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