Page 99 of Fragmented Illusions
“Sol!” I scream, my throat tearing open from the power and desperation I put into it.
“Just go!” I hear his voice call out. Grunts fill the air, along with the scent of blood.
“Not without you!” I bellow. Fallon twitches in my arms and I huff through the new bout of pain.
This can’t be how it ends.
“Spencer,please!” My heart wrenches at the pleading in his voice. I can’t see much through my blurry vision, but I don’t search him out. I know if I take one look at him, I’ll crumble. Literally and metaphorically.
I take a step, then another, until I hear the front doors whir as they slide open. The blistering cold hits me in the face so brutally, I stagger backwards. Fallon almost slips through my arms, but I manage to shift my arms in time to keep her from falling.
I keep biting my tongue to hold back the scream that threatens to rip from my throat any second. Every step I take becomes more difficult, dragging until I feel as if I’ve been walking for far too long.
Mercifully, the black car comes into view, the polished paint glinting in the moonlight. We left the doors unlocked, thankfully. I’m able to maneuver Fallon, putting her mostly over my shoulder, so I am able to open the backdoor. I crouch down and lay her across the seat. Her arms flop to her sides, one of them hanging over the seat, but she fortunately remains asleep.
I lean back so I can close the door when something catches my eye.
The black zip-up bag Sol and I always keep in the car. I reach for it with my good hand and set it on the edge of the seat right next to Fallon’s legs to unzip it. Silver metal stares back at me and I smile, relief overshadowing the debilitating hopelessness.
I grab the knife and drop the bag back to the floorboard. All that’s left in there is extra clothes and masks. We don’t need either of those, but what we do need—whatSol needs—is my help, whether he wants to ask for it or not.
Fallon is safe in the car. I will go in there and help Sol and we can get out of here—together. Always together.
Knife in hand, I shut the car door, pressing it closed quietly, then run for the building. The wind whips my face and chills me to the bone, but I soldier on. When I get to the doors, they don’t open so I shove my shoulder against them, pushing them open. They make almost a V as I force my way through—and because of me forcing them open, the system now thinks there is a fire emergency because alarms suddenly start blaring along with flashing lights
“Fuck!” I shout, my gaze darting all around the large expanse of a room in search of Sol. He’s still fighting with one of the men—the biggest one because of course he would have to fight someone twice his size.
He has my knife in his hand, swiping it at the man before retreating, leaving cuts across the man’s skin again and again, but it’s not enough to take him down. Sol knows that I’m sure, but there isn’t much else he can do.
The guy is massive compared to him, so Sol is playing smart, keeping his distance, and slowly wounding him. But this guy won’t be able to fight off two of us—certainly not when we both have a knife.
At the sound of the alarms, Sol’s attention is dragging to the front doors, and when our eyes meet, I see the relief. But the momentary distraction was enough for the man to hit Solomon across his face. He staggers back at the unexpected blow, and I snap.
I charge for the man, pure rage pushing me onward as Sol fights back. My vision tunnels and all I see is the man that just about ruined everything.
All I feel is my knife sinking into flesh.
All I taste is blood on my tongue.
All I smell is death burning my nose.
Chapter Twenty
Fallon
Reality comes back to me in waves. Voices fluttering in and out. My vision sharpening before blurring once more.
My limbs are what I notice first though. They’re heavy, leaden, but I can feel the muscles twitching, showing signs of life with warmth coursing through me.
Then I’m cast in the darkness again with no voices or warmth to comfort me. The numb abyss swallows me whole once more.
“Pretty girl,” a voice croaks and my eyes flit open. I’m able to hold them open for longer than a moment and they focus on a cream white ceiling. Or is that a roof?
I feel a constant vibration underneath me. It takes me a moment to register I’m moving. I’m in a car?
I feel my brows draw together as I try to remember what happened. All I can remember is waking up in the hospital, my parents, the pills…
I swallowed the pills.
