Page 9 of Iris' Lying Eyes

Or so I thought. Is John looking for her? What about Sam? Eventually he’s going to check in and discover him gone.

Fuck, I’m sunk under the weight constantly on my back. Some days, the burden is too great, and those are the times I welcome the drugs John pours down my throat.

It doesn’t matter if he knows Sam is missing because he’s safe. I hope. Fuck.

I finally removed the last thing John was holding over me and yet, I stayed with the fucker, my protestations like ash on my tongue. The truth is, I don’t know how to be me anymore, and it’s far fucking easier to be the plaything that asshole wants.

Maybe I’ve convinced myself that I’m waiting until the right time, but part of me wonders if I’m not just waiting to die.

Living won’t change a thing.

With a sigh, I pull to my feet. I refused treatment, and I’m being sent on my way now that my vitals are clear. The doctor checked me over rudely, deemed me to be unworthy of his time, and left as quickly as he could.

No surprise. To them, I’m a lost cause. They’re not far off, I suppose.

Stepping from the room, I pass down the hall like a ghost and skip outside, shivering in the scrubs the nurse produced for me. Apparently, the clothes I wore upon entering were cut from my body.

With a lump in my belly, I stalk to the bus stop before glancing across the street.

Just beyond those doors is my aunt, Rain’s mom. I know this only because John mentioned it after it all went down. Of course, the fucker didn’t keep his word to Rain. I walked right into his trap and he didn’t even have the decency to let her mother and brother go.

I suspect he hasn’t finished her off because she’s suffered severe brain damage. Although to be fair, he can’t exactly waltz into a healthcare facility and take her out.

Part of me wants to go in. See her. But what can I do but make it worse?

For all I know, seeing my face will bring back memories she’s better off forgetting. I know I can’t sleep for the images that burn my brain, even if they’re not specific to that night.

But I’ll never forget my aunt’s face when she saw me tied to the couch. I think John was especially brutal because she fought so hard. She was like an animal protecting her young—for me.

Shaking my head, I sit on the bench and hunch over. With each passing day, John becomes more power-hungry and dangerous. And now he’s upped the game. The last time I disappeared, the punishment was so severe I couldn’t walk for days. What would happen this time?

I have to believe that I don’t have to worry about Sam anymore. Regardless, John won’t rest until he finds me, and I’m risking his wrath.

But there’s nothing I can do for it now. The game is in play.

∞∞∞

It’s probably foolish, but I find myself staring at the last place I thought I’d ever see again.

It’s also the first place John would think to check, but I have nowhere else to go.

It looks like a picture-perfect home, complete with a set of potted plants on the porch from the outside. But the flowers inside them have long since died, a message for those who think to enter. This house of horrors only brings death, whether physical or spiritual.

Am I doing the right thing? Who knows, but much like with everything else, I’ve never been given much choice.

I no longer have a key, but I don’t need one. I’ve been sneaking out of this house for years. Although the ivy interwoven through the bars now grows wild, the trellis remains, providing a bit of an adventure in finding footholds in the structure.

My arms shake from fatigue by the time I reach the eave, and I swing onto the roof before collapsing. I may be mostly clear of the drugs, but it’s obvious my body still has a long way to go to be what it once was. What used to be an easy climb leaves me out of breath and disturbingly weak.

With a sigh, I turn onto my back and stare at the sky. The stars twinkle above, mocking the wishes I spent years casting, none of which ever came true. If there is a god out there, he’s a mean-ass motherfucker. This I know with dead certainty.

Out of habit, I reach around the eave, but I come up empty. Huh? Rolling over, I peek into the small space. The box is gone. What the fuck?

It wasn’t much, but it was the last of my childhood, hidden away in a secret place that only I could find.

“Shit,” I mutter, rubbing my forehead.

That box had the only picture of her I owned and now it’s gone. I’ll never see her face again even if it’s only via an image. What a cluster.

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