Page 100 of Fragmented Illusions
Dread sinks deep. I took them because I was hopeless. I let my parents get in my head again. I’m the sick girl in need of being fixed.
“Brother,” the voice coughs and sputters. It sounds familiar.
Focus, Fallon.
Hearing It in my head has adrenaline surging to the surface. It’s back. The voice is faint, but I can hear it.
It settles my nerves, comforting me. It is home. It is me.
My eyes drop from the roof of the car to the window. It’s black outside, so black I can’t make out a single thing.
“It’s going to be okay, Spence.”
A disgruntled laugh reverberates through the car, shaking me to my core. I manage to turn my leaden body to the side. The soft green glow of the dash gives me enough light to make out a bloodied face, bruised and swelling. He’s on his side in the seat, facing the driver’s side so I can fully see his face.
His hair hangs over his forehead, covering half of his eyes. It’s matted and clinging to his skin. His plump lips are parted, and I can see his upper body moving with every labored breath he takes.
He doesn’t look familiar in the slightest and an inkling of fear creeps up my spine. I’m wary as I stare at him. His gaze lazily meets mine when he hears me readjusting in the leather seat.
The moment his eyes meet mine, my breath hitches in my lungs.
What the…
“Spencer?” I choke out hesitantly. There is no way that is him. He’s… He’s not wearing his mask. This is his face. I’m seeing his face.
This can’t be happening.
I’m having another night terror—only this one is bittersweet making me imagine his face.
Cruel, really.
“That’s me, pretty girl,” he rasps. Blood spills from his lips as he speaks and his tongue darts out to lick it off.
“No. This cannot… This cannot be real.” I shake my head vehemently.
“This is us, pretty girl. Disappointed?”
That voice. Deep. Monotonous.Dangerous.
“Solomon…” I whisper. I force my heavy limbs into action and accomplish my goal of sitting vertically in the car.
My gaze falls to the rearview mirror, and I lock eyes with Solomon. His pale skin glows eerily in the tiny mirror, along with his pale eyes. His jaw is sharp and angular, though deeply swollen and bruised with blood drying along his skin. His dark hair is in a twisted mess at the top of his head.
His eyes fall from mine back to the road, and I can finally breathe again.
I’m overstimulated to say the least. This is almost as bad as when we had sex in the cabin.
A giggle escapes from my lips and I slap my hand over my mouth.
“What’s funny, baby?” Spencer asks. His voice is weak, but I can sense the humor in it. We hit a bump in the road, and Spencer groans, clutching his hand to his chest.
“Hold on a bit longer. We have to get further away first,” Solomon tells him, worry lancing his every word.
“Wait, what happened?” I ask, forcing thoughts of sex away, as tempting as they are to explore.
“A lot,” Solomon says, and Spencer grunts.
“We came to save you, pretty girl.”
