Page 40 of Fragmented Illusions
I don’t think it’ll keep them out, but it can’t hurt, right?
I dig through the contents of my purse as I’m walking down the hall in search of my Chapstick. Once my fingers brush against it, I pull it out and swipe some across my dry lips before dropping it back inside.
I rub my lips together absentmindedly as I slip from the apartment, shutting the door behind me with a soft click. I don’t know if anyone else is home, but if they are, I don’t want to run into anyone—especially Nat.
With the way I have been feeling lately, I sense she could take one glance at me and see how much I’m falling apart at the seams. Nat is a bit of a caretaker—and I love that about her. But I don’t need that. I don’twantthat. So, until I can think of something to tell her about why I’ve been distant these last few weeks, I’m going to avoid her.
I can use the excuse of school and tests, but it will only buy me so much time. I need to think of something more concrete before she begins to suspect something’s up.
I step out into the cool fall air and suck as much of it into my lungs as I can. The cool bite of air feels rejuvenating, and I heave a sigh of instant relief as it helps clear my head.
I feel surprisingly good—better now I’m outside. I pull my phone out of my purse as I start down the sidewalk toward school. It’s 8:30 AM, so that means I have an hour to get to class and it will only take me ten minutes to get to the building.
My feet move faster across the pavement as an idea pops into my head. An idea that is rather stupid, and probably dangerous for me, but one I’ve decided is happening no matter what.
The breeze feels even colder in the depths of the trees that surround me on every side. I trudge my way through the woods, trying to remember how I got to that fucking cabin in the first place. You would think with it being daylight, it would be easier but that seems to not be the case.
I’m sure I walk around in circles, again and again, as I navigate my way without anything to guide me. I try to go off of memory but if I’m being completely honest, I don’t remember much of thehowpart of getting there.
All I really remember is following that light in the midst of my passing panic with Trenton. It’s all a haze which I find irritating now. I wish I would have paid more attention, but it is what it is. Either way, I’m determined to find it and… I pull my phone out of my back pocket. I still have thirty minutes till class.
I have time.
I continue to wander but keep my eye out for any identifying landmarks that will hopefully help me find my way back easier. After what feels like hours, I come to a break in the trees and a smile breaks out across my face, a sense of satisfaction washing through me.
I knew I would find it.
But now that I’m here, I’m not sure what to do.
The cabin still looks the same, though with the sunlight, I can make out many more details and it appears to be even more rundown and rotted than I originally thought. In fact, it looks like the entire place—porch included—could collapse at any second.
I walk towards it and when my foot lifts to the first step, I hesitate, glancing warily at the wood like it would be able to tell me if it was going to collapse under my weight or not.
“Relax, Fallon. It held you and two men. You’ll be fine,” I whisper to myself. Steeling my shoulders, I swiftly climb the stairs and push the front door open. It creaks and groans heavily as it swings on its rusted hinges.
Stepping inside, I’m instantly shrouded in darkness before my eyes adjust, the light coming inside enough to illuminate the room enough for me to see and the longer I’m inside, the better my eyesight becomes.
I leave the door open for extra light and make my way through the cabin, although there isn’t much to see—on this side anyway. Approaching the doorway leading to the other room, I hesitate, my steps slowing. The last time I was in that part of the cabin, I saw something I never wish I had.
Not a dead body—but the two men that did the killing.
You don’t regret a thing.
Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I force myself to move forward. I wonder if the body will still be there or if they got rid of it. If they did dispose of the body, where did they put it? Did they burn it? Bury it?
Millions of questions swirl in my brain and when I step across the threshold to the other side of the cabin, even more come screaming forward.
At first glance, I can see there isn’t a dead body. And immediately after that, I can also see that this room—smaller than the first half of the cabin, is impeccably clean. Like, almost completely spotless. The wood floors are as clean as they ever could be considering the rot and the walls have clearly been scrubbed as well.
There isn’t a drop of blood or a single fucking piece of anything, anywhere. None of the leaves that litter the first half of the cabin are here, no dirt, no bugs.
It’s all strangely clean.
My brows draw together as I step further into the room, going to the very spot Iknowfor a fact was a dead body a few short weeks ago.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. The fact I’m more fascinated about a clean room in a rotting cabin, or that I couldn’t care less there is a decaying body somewhere—one I saw and did nothing about.
A twinge of guilt pricks at the back of my brain, but I shove it away. It’s pointless to feel anything like that. I didn’t know the person and there wasn’t anything I could do anyway. I’m the sick girl. If I said anything, no one would believe me and then I would have risked everything for nothing.
