Page 41 of Fragmented Illusions
I’m glad I didn’t say anything. Because even though the masked men haunt me, I still have some semblance of control over my life. They may know my secrets, but as long as I don’t say a word, they’re still mine. For some, probably completely moronic reason, I trust them to not say anything.
I’m sure I’ll come to regret my own foolish stupidity, but for now, I’m going to accept it and leave it be.
I bend down to inspect the floor, brushing my hand across the splintered wood, feeling the tiniest pricks in my skin as the wood pierces me.
“Well, well, well. Look what we have here, brother.” Creepy’s voice breaks the resounding silence, and I startle. A scream rips through my throat as I launch to my feet. I whirl around, my head spinning. Heat spreads through my body as fear makes the blood in my veins turn to ice, slowing my heartbeat and my breathing.
My body vibrates as tremors wrack my body. I’m terrified—completely, wholly petrified—but I feel exhilarated. Alive.
Creepy’s head is cocked to the side as he and his brother face me on the opposite side of the room. They are both dressed in black hoodies, black sweatpants, and black leather gloves with their white masks covering their faces—their seemingly signature attire.
I sag a little at the realization that their faces are covered, and I can’t see what they look like—who they are.
“Am I ever going to see your faces?” I ask, and the moment the words leave my mouth, Creepy’s head tilts even further as he takes a step towards me. Silent darts his hand out and presses his palm against Creepy’s chest, stopping his movement.
My eyes dart back and forth between the two, trying to distinguish what’s going on. Instead of moving forward, Creepy stays still and says, “You’re feeling mighty brave today. I can see the determination in your eyes. You’re a little spitfire, aren’t you, pretty girl?”
I huff a little at his comment, but otherwise not saying anything.
“I asked you a question.” Creepy bristles when I keep my mouth shut and the smallest smirk pulls at the corner of my lips. I’m affecting him and it’s making me feel brave. Stupid. Careless.
“You went and found yourself some bravery, I see. What, did my little gift give you the fire you needed to stand up for yourself?” he taunts me, and even though I can’t see, I’m sure he has a smirk of his own.
Mine falls immediately at the mention of the S now carved into my skin for the rest of my life. He made it relatively deep too. Deeper than the ones on my stomach, so I know for a fact it will never fade.
My jaw clenches, the sound of my teeth grinding cracking through the air.
“I see I hit a nerve,” he chuckles, and now I’m the one to bristle. This was a stupid fucking idea. I knew it was and yet I came anyway. I don’t know why I ever believe I can be trusted to make my own decisions. Clearly, I’m incapable.
Creepy takes a step forward again at my forced silence and this time, Silent moves with him. Each step they take is perfectly in sync with one another. I take a deep breath and straighten my spine, standing as tall as I can, though they both tower over me, Silent a bit more than his brother.
Silent raises his hand and I flinch as it nears my face. He runs his index finger down my cheek, and the leather of his glove feels cool against my overheated skin. He trails his finger down to my bottom lip, dragging his finger down the center of it. When it pulls down, he grabs it between his thumb and forefinger. I whimper at the sting of pain. He pulls my lip out even further and I feel the cool breeze against my gums and bottom teeth.
Next thing I know, my eyes are covered, blocking out my vision. The same coolness of the gloves rests against my temples as well, so I can only assume it’s Creepy’s hands on me. He presses his fingertips against my eye sockets, and I feel them being pressed back, giving me an instant migraine.
I want to cry, but I swallow down the urge. Crying means I’m weak and I don’t need them thinking that’s all I am. I want—no, Ineedto show them my strength. Because, after all, I’ve survived thus far. If I can survive my own fuckingmind,I can survive them.
Silent’s thumb shifts up and over my bottom teeth, pulling my mouth open wider and at the same time, Creepy pulls, angling my head back. My body is screaming at me to move, to fight, but I refuse.
I can do this.
I’m strong.
I’m perfect.
I’m a survivor.
No, you just want them to play with you.
Youlovethem wanting you.
It makes you feel better about yourself.
Selfish.
The voice taunting me makes my body jerk away from their touch, but I don’t move more than an inch before they tighten their holds.
“What were you hoping to find, coming here?” Silent asks me, his breath washing over my face, smelling faintly of coffee and mint. I don’t say anything and although my vision is being blocked, I know his face is right next to mine—unmasked.
