Page 40 of All The Pretty Little Lies

With a final nod to both of us, Talon turns and strides away, his footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway.

As soon as he's out of sight, the silence between Oscar and me becomes oppressive. I can feel the weight of my earlier words pressing down on me, threatening to crush me under their gravity.

"Oz," I start, my voice rough with emotion. "I'm sorry. About what I said earlier, about Vesper being better off as a ghost. I didn't mean it."

Oscar doesn't respond immediately. He stares at the closed door of Vesper's room, his expression unreadable. When hefinally speaks, his voice is low and raw. "You're right, you know," he says, not looking at me. "This isn't a fairy tale. There's no guarantee of a happy ending."

I feel a twinge of guilt in my chest. "I'm sorry," I say again, the words feeling inadequate but necessary. "I saw her like that, and I panicked. I thought I was helping."

Oscar sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I know," he says softly. "But we can't keep making decisions for her, Z. We have to give her a chance to heal, to find herself again."

The weight of everything we've learned in the past few minutes settles over me like a shroud. Vesper's eggs were harvested without her consent. The threat of her future children being taken. It's almost too much to comprehend. All this time that Oz has been looking for her, she’s been tortured and harvested like a fucking heifer. The thought of what she’s endured creates a coiling snake of rage inside of me. Oz believed, all this fucking time, he believed she was still alive, and I didn’t believe him. The guilt for not saving her that he has been carrying for us all dragging him down farther beneath the depths every day she was still gone.

"What do we do now?" he asks, his voice sounding small and lost.

"We wait," I say finally. "We let her rest. And while she does, we plan.”

VESPER

I wake with a start,my eyes flying open to an unfamiliar ceiling. For a moment, I'm disoriented, unsure of how long I've been asleep. The room is bathed in a soft, golden light that filters through sheer curtains, and I realize with a jolt that I've slept without dreaming for the first time in years. The absence of nightmares leaves me feeling strangely hollow as if a part of me is missing.

Instinctively, I move to stretch my arms, expecting to feel the cold bite of metal against my wrists. But there's nothing. No shackles, no restraints. I blink, wondering if this is somenew form of torture – the illusion of freedom. My gaze darts around the room, searching for Oscar's silhouette lurking in the shadows, but he's not there. The room is empty, save for the sparse furniture and the eerie silence that seems to press in on me from all sides.

Heart pounding, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, my bare feet touching the cool wooden floor. I pause, listening for any sign of movement in the house, but there's nothing. Slowly, I make my way to the door, my hand hesitating on the handle. I take a deep breath and turn it, half-expecting it to be locked. To my surprise, it opens easily.

The hallway beyond is deserted, no guards, no watchful eyes. I move through the house like a ghost, my footsteps echoing in the emptiness. Each room I pass is vacant, devoid of life or any sign of recent occupation. It's as if everyone has simply vanished, leaving me alone in this strange, silent world.

Finally, I reach the front door. My heart is hammering so loudly in my chest that I'm sure it will give me away, even though there's no one to hear it. With trembling fingers, I reach for the handle, expecting at any moment for alarms to blare or for rough hands to grab me. But nothing happens. The door swings open, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, I step outside.

I take a tentative step forward, then another, my bare feet sinking into the soft grass. The blades tickle my toes, a sensation so foreign and yet so achingly familiar that it brings tears to my eyes. I wiggle my toes, reveling in the cool dampness of the earth beneath them. The heaviness that has weighed on my limbs for so long seems to melt away with each step I take.

I tilt my face upward, closing my eyes against the brilliance of the sun. Its warmth seeps into my skin, chasing away the perpetual chill that has clung to me in my captivity. I spread my arms wide as if I could embrace the entire sky, feeling the gentle resistance of the breeze against my palms. The wind plays withmy hair, sending strands dancing across my face and neck in a teasing caress.

A bird calls in the distance, its song clear and sweet. I open my eyes, scanning the trees that border the property. There, perched on a branch, is a small sparrow. It cocks its head at me, curious and unafraid. For a moment, we regard each other. Two free creatures in a world suddenly full of possibility.

I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with the scent of fresh-cut grass and blooming flowers. The air tastes clean and crisp, so different from the stale, recycled atmosphere I've grown accustom. Each breath feels like a gift, a reminder of the life that still pulses within me despite everything.

My gaze falls to my wrists, now bare of the shackles that have been my constant companions. The skin there is pale and marked, a testament to the length of my captivity. I run my fingers over the indentations, marveling at the feel of my skin and the absence of cold metal. The freedom of movement is intoxicating, and I find myself spinning in a slow circle, arms outstretched, simply because I can.

As I turn, the world blurs into a kaleidoscope of colors: the vibrant green of the grass, the deep blue of the sky, the riot of hues from the flower beds that line the path. It's almost overwhelming after so long in the muted grays and blacks of my prison. I stop, dizzy with the beauty of it all, and sink to my knees in the grass.

I run my hands through the green blades, marveling at their smoothness. On impulse, I lie back, spreading my arms and legs wide as if to make a grass angel. The ground is firm beneath me, solid and real in a way that my world hasn't been for so long. I close my eyes, feeling the gentle caress of the sun on my face, the whisper of the wind in my hair, and the living earth beneath my body.

For a moment, I allow myself to simply exist in this perfect, peaceful bubble. I push away thoughts of the past and fears for the future. I ignore the questions that clamor for attention in the back of my mind. But my moment of peace is shattered as abruptly as it began. A shadow falls across my face, blocking out the sun's warmth. My eyes fly open, my heart leaping into my throat as I see two figures looming over me. Panic surges through my veins, icy and familiar.

"Vesper," a deep voice calls, tinged with concern. "Are you alright?"

I scramble backwards, my fingers digging into the soft earth. The world tilts and spins around me, the colors blurring together in a nauseating swirl. My limbs feel heavy, uncooperative, and a fog seems to settle over my thoughts.

"Shit, Z," another voice hisses. "I think you overdid it with the sedative."

Sedative. The word pierces through the haze in my mind. I wasn't free. This wasn't real. They had drugged me.

I try to stand, to run, but my legs buckle beneath me. Strong arms catch me before I hit the ground, and I find myself staring into a pair of striking silver eyes.

"Whoa, easy there," a deep voice says, hands raised in a placating gesture. "We're not here to hurt you."

I blink rapidly, trying to clear the fog from my mind. The world seems to tilt and spin, colors bleeding into one another. I shake my head, but it only makes the dizziness worse. A cold realization creeps over me.

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