Page 17 of I Will Mend You

Dr. Saint would call this process dissociation. By the time I return to my senses, I’m lying alone on the backdrop and all the lights are off. I wait for the pain to register, but my body remains numb.

A huge man dressed in the white pants and matching shirt of an orderly kneels at my side and stares down at me through the dark. I can’t see his face because it’s obscured by a white mask.

As he lifts me off the floor, I suck in a sharp breath, expecting a flood of pain. Instead, there’s an odd pressure against my skin, like I’m wrapped in compression bandages.

The man carries me through a dim, cold hallway. The echoes of clomping steps fill the air with black shockwaves, making me realize I’m still drugged.

Stopping at a metal door, he pushes it open to reveal a white room illuminated by spotlights. The floor and four walls are padded, save for the patch where a TV screen hangs close to the ceiling.

As the man drops me to the cushioned floor, the TV screen flickers to life.

It’s the tail end of that video of Xero inviting men to defile my body in the graveyard. I’m lying unconscious and naked, covered in urine and semen, and surrounded by men.

“Cut,” says a voice off camera.

On screen, I open my eyes and hold up my hand in a silent gesture for someone to help me up.

The camera pans up as one of the men pulls me to my feet and wraps his arms around my shoulders. As we part, he stares into the camera and smirks.

It’s Locke, which must mean the woman is Dolly.

I stop breathing for the seconds it takes me to realize the truth about the video. It wasn’t me being gang-raped. It was my doppelgänger.

And she was performing for the camera.

My heart lurches.

What the hell have I done?

I killed Xero by mistake.

The video plays over and over until realization sinks in, becoming as tangible as my mounting grief. I don’t know how long I remain watching Dolly impersonate me with her men, but guilt mounts until it becomes a physical entity haunting the edge of my vision.

“Well, well, well,” a familiar voice says from the corner of the room. “Look who’s realized she stabbed the wrong guy in the back.”

I turn my head toward the voice. It’s Xero, and he looks pissed.

EIGHT

XERO

The burning in my lungs intensifies as I walk through the hospital’s utility exit carrying my prey. Jynxson distracted the night nurse as I extracted Reverend Thomas from his bed.

I throw his unconscious body into the back of a van, where he lands with a thud. Bandages encase his neck and one side of his face where Amethyst knifed him in the eye.

The mystery behind her peculiar behavior unravels, making my jaw tighten. She thought it was me. That I was the one who orchestrated that nightmare. No wonder she snapped.

Rage sears through my chest, but beneath the fury is an instinct that burns brighter. I want to protect Amethyst, even now. I haven’t told my people the full truth, because deep in my heart, I still believe she needs my help.

What I can’t work out is when the hell it happened.

The video is a near replica of how I chased her through the cemetery and fucked her on my grave. After that, I only left her unattended to investigate X-Cite Media. It was never for more than a few hours, and I would have noticed bruises on her body if she’d been assaulted by multiple men.

Then there’s the circumstances of our correspondence. No matter what Jynxson says, I still think she was a lonely woman reaching out to me for excitement after my mugshot went viral on social media. Even Father couldn’t manufacture a connection as profound as the one I share with Amethyst.

A pained groan pulls me out of my musings, and I turn to where I left the priest sprawled across the van’s interior.

I stamp on his chest, making sure to crack a few ribs. “Open your eyes.”

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