Page 117 of Iris' Lying Eyes

∞∞∞

It’s been at least a day. I’ve laid here the entire time, waiting for the fucker to die.

He’s still ticking, though, because I hear him groan and curse from time to time.

Maybe I should go back to the cabin. Get water, food, but I think it’s fitting for us both to end here, where, in many ways, it began.

John forced me, kicking and screaming, into his nightmare. Now he’ll go down just like all the others. Is he scared? Does his parched throat ache for water? Maybe visions of the devil dance before his eyes because he sure as shit isn’t going the other way.

My only regret is that Sam is in that hole with him. He deserves better. Although maybe the asshole will have time to repent his ways with the defenseless child’s sightless eyes boring into his.

“Bitch,” he mumbles.

Maybe not.

I’m stuck in a weird-ass dream where Bastion is chasing me through the forest when I hear a twig snap nearby, and I rouse. I can’t move. I can’t even raise my head, but tears fill my eyes when I hear Bastion’s deep voice say, “Iris?”

He emerges from between the trees and looks so fucking good that I smile until he drops to his knees and John’s existence in that hole rushes in. Sam. Baby Girl. Me. We were all damned, but I never thought Bastion would be the one to betray me, them.

Bastion brushes the hair off my face, and I meet his dark eyes, but words escape me when he frowns, touching my chapped lips.

“C’mere,” he says roughly, pulling me into his arms.

“No,” I croak, and he pauses.

“Baby,” he says, and I raise my hand, or I try before dropping it uselessly when the effort makes me tremble.

“No,” I say again, and he stiffens. “No, B. Not until he’s dead.”

Bastion’s brow furrows, and he looks behind him before peering into the hole.

“Fuck,” he breathes, whipping his head around, but I’m back to staring at the sky, and this time, images of the day they were born roll through my head.

Baby Girl showed off her pipes immediately, crying for all she was worth as though she knew already that the world was going to betray her. Not so Sam. His glittering eyes met mine, and he smiled softly. In my heart, they were two sides of the same coin, although they couldn’t have been more different. But I knew, as I wrapped his finger around mine and kissed her wrinkled nose, only one of them was strong enough to survive in my world.

They were everything I never knew I wanted, but I had to say goodbye to one of them. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I breathed in her soft, powdery scent and let her be free. But Sam, he was mine, my gift and my burden.

I’ll never forgive myself for not letting him go, even though I knew he would have never made it beyond the doors. In John’s cruel world, he was nothing but a commodity and he would have been found defective. Maybe my selfishness was cruel, but Sam gave me the will to keep going when nothing else could. Now that he’s gone. What do I have left?

I barely flinch when the loud report of a gun explodes in my eardrums. Turning my head, I spy Bastion standing over the hole. He fires two more rounds, his face set in deadly lines.

A flock of birds escapes into the air, their warning squawks making me shiver.

All too soon, Bastion looms over me, blocking out the sun overhead. I loll in his grip as he lifts me into his arms, turning my face away from the slice of light that emerges.

When I meet his dark, worried gaze, I mumble, “You lied. And I’ll never trust you again.”

∞∞∞

I’m in the hospital. I can tell by the faint beeping noise that assaults my ears. For a moment, I’m blissfully unaware before everything rushes in, and I grimace.

The senator. John. The hole. Sam.

Fuck.

I don’t want to wake up. I don’t want to open my eyes, but once again, I’m robbed of any potential peace because I’m not fucking dead. Apparently, my penance isn’t over yet.

It’s dark, but I spy a faint light beside my head and glance over to find Bastion sleeping in a chair next to my bed, the flashlight on his phone pointing at the ceiling. With a humorless smile, I turn away. His grand gestures don’t feel so fucking grand anymore. He used me, and if I could move my aching, desiccated body, I’d slap him across his handsome but treacherous face.

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