Page 59 of All The Pretty Little Lies

Oscar and Zaire. Zaire and Oscar. I close my eyes, remembering the warmth of Oscar's hand on my lower back as he guided me to my seat at dinner, the brush of Zaire's fingers against mine as he passed me the salt.

I flop back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "What is wrong with me?" I whisper to the empty room. I’ve never had one guy in my life, and now, I kissed two in a single day. I roll onto my side, hugging a pillow to my chest as I try to make sense of the tumultuous emotions swirling within me. The memory of Zaire's kiss, tender and reverent, sends a shiver down my spine. His touch had been gentle, almost hesitant, as if he feared I might shatter beneath his fingers. And yet, there was an underlying strength there, a promise of protection that made me feel safe in a way I'd never experienced before.

But then there was Oscar. His kiss had been fire and passion, igniting something primal within me. Where Zaire was the calm eye of the storm, Oscar was the tempest itself, wild and unpredictable. I can still feel the ghost of his hands on my waist, the heat of his breath against my neck.

I press my face into the pillow, torn between exhilaration and confusion. How is it possible to feel so strongly for two people at once? They're twins, yes, but they're also individuals, each with their own unique qualities that draw me in like a moth to a flame.

Oscar's quiet strength and thoughtful nature, the way his blue eyes seem to see right through to my soul. Zaire's roguish charm and fierce loyalty. They're two halves of a whole, complementing each other in ways I'm only beginning to understand.

I sit up abruptly, running my fingers through my hair as Zaire's words echo in my mind. ‘You don't have to choose,’ he had said, his voice low and intense. At the time, I had dismissed it as impossible, a fantasy born of desire and wishfulthinking. But now, in the quiet of my room, I find myself wondering...could it be true?

The concept is foreign, almost taboo. Society has always taught us that love is meant for two people, that anything else is wrong or selfish. But as I think about Oscar and Zaire, about the way they move in perfect synchronicity, and the silent communication that passes between them with just a glance, I begin to see the possibility.

Maybe love isn't about choosing one person over another. Maybe it's about opening your heart wide enough to encompass all the love it's capable of giving. The thought is both terrifying and exhilarating, like standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to take flight. Could I really have both of them? Could we create something beautiful and unique, the three of us together?

I lay back down, my mind racing with possibilities. The soft cotton of the sheets whisper against my skin as I shift, trying to find a comfortable position. But comfort eludes me as my thoughts continue to spiral, each scenario more vivid than the last.

I imagine waking up between them, Oscar's steady heartbeat beneath my ear, Zaire's arm draped protectively over my waist. The three of us moving through life as a unit, supporting each other, and loving each other. I picture lazy Sunday mornings filled with laughter and stolen kisses, the aroma of fresh coffee mingling with the scent of their skin. I see Oscar teaching me to dance, his hands guiding me gently as we sway to a melody only we can hear. Zaire watches from the sidelines, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of pride and desire. Later, it's Zaire who pulls me close, his lips hot against my neck as Oscar's fingers intertwine with mine.

The images that flood my senses are so real that I can almost taste them. The roughness of Zaire's stubble against my palm, the softness of Oscar's lips on my forehead. Their voices, aharmony of deep tones that resonate in my very soul. I imagine the way they would look at each other, a bond deeper than blood, strengthened by their shared love for me.

A soft laugh escapes my lips, surprising even myself. Here I am, contemplating a relationship that most would deem impossible or immoral, yet it feels...right. Like pieces of a puzzle finally clicking into place.

I drift off to sleep with these thoughts, a smile playing on my lips as I surrender to dreams filled with silver and blue eyes, and endless possibilities.

But as the night deepens, my pleasant dreams twist into something darker.

The soft glow of my room fades, replaced by harsh fluorescent lights that buzz overhead. The comfort of my bed morphs into the cold, unyielding surface of a hospital gurney. I try to move, but my wrists and ankles are bound by thick leather straps. Panic rises in my throat as I realize I'm back in that sterile, nightmarish place.

The Shadow Man looms over me, his face obscured by darkness despite the bright lights. His presence is oppressive, suffocating. I can feel his gaze roaming over my body, predatory and hungry. This time, it's different. There's no talk of eggs or fertility. The air is charged with a more sinister intent.

"You're mine now," he whispers, his voice like gravel scraping against my ears. His hand, cold and clammy, traces a path down my arm. I shudder, trying to pull away, but the restraints hold me fast.

He leans in closer, his breath hot against my neck. "They can't protect you here," he hisses, and I know he means Oscar and Zaire. In this realm of nightmares, they feel impossibly far away.

The Shadow Man's form seems to ripple and shift, growing larger, more monstrous. His fingers elongate into claws that tear at my clothes. I try to scream, but no sound comes out. The room spins around me, the walls closing in, suffocating me with their sterility.

I feel him pressing against me, a weight that threatens to crush me. His touch leaves icy trails on my skin, each caress a violation. The Shadow Man's laughter echoes through the room, a cacophony of cruel amusement. "You're mine," he repeats, the words burrowing into my mind like parasites. "Body and soul."

I bolt upright in bed, a scream dying in my throat as the remnants of my nightmare cling to me like a cold sweat. The darkness of my room feels oppressive, closing in around me as I struggle to catch my breath. Before I can fully shake off the terror, my door bursts open, and Oscar rushes in, his blue eyes wide with concern.

"Vesper, are you alright?" he asks, crossing the room in long strides.

I nod weakly, but the trembling of my hands betrays me. "Another nightmare," I whisper, hating how vulnerable I sound.

Oscar's expression softens, and he perches on the edge of my bed. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I shake my head, then surprise myself by asking, "Could you...stay with me?"

He hesitates for a moment, then nods, sliding under the covers beside me. As he wraps an arm around my waist, I stiffen involuntarily, the ghost of my nightmare making me flinch at his touch.

"Shh, it's okay," Oscar murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. "You're safe, Vesper. I've got you."

I gradually relax into Oscar's embrace, my body molding against his solid form. The warmth of his chest against myback seeps through my thin nightgown, chasing away the chill of fear. As my breathing steadies, I become acutely aware of every point of contact between us – his arm draped protectively over my waist, his legs tangled with mine, and the unmistakable hardness pressing against my backside.

A shiver runs through me, but this time it's not from fear. I turn my head slightly. "I hate this," I whisper into the darkness. "Every time I close my eyes, I'm terrified of what I'll see. The nightmares...they're relentless."

Oscar's arm tightens around me, and I feel his lips brush against my hair. "I wish I could take them away," he murmurs.

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