Page 8 of Iris' Lying Eyes

Later, when we came back together, I thought he wanted me for more than just sex. It turns out I was right. He was fucking me for answers instead.

As if I’d share my filthy secrets over pillow talk. Please.

“Iris, when are you going to pull your head out of your ass? You think—” He stops abruptly. “Never mind. Why am I even bothering?” he says, and I glance at him sideways.

“You can save the hate speech. I get it. I’m a lying, scheming bitch. Just go,” I say tiredly, turning on my side away from him.

It’s quiet for a moment, and I close my eyes when I hear him go, only to flip them open when he grabs my arm.

His mouth twists as he reads the black letters, and he tightens his hold. “What does he have over you?”

“Wh-what?” I say, pulling from his grip. “This isn’t . . . I’m . . . Fuck off.”

He drops my wrist and steps back, his brows dropping over his nose. I gaze at him wide-eyed as he says, “I have a place you can stay. You can go there now. He’ll never find you.”

My heart thumps, and I bat my eyes when I realize tears are building. No. Just no.

With a shrug, I fight the quiver in my lips and say, “I’m fine. John gives me what I need.”

He scoffs, grabbing my chin. “Maybe you’re a world-class liar, baby, but you can’t fool me.”

Dropping my gaze, I whisper, “You can’t help me. He always finds me.”

When he doesn’t respond, I meet his dark stare. He studies me for a moment and then says, “John isn’t all-powerful.”

Smiling through the burn in my chest, I say, “He is to me.”

“Why?”

“Because he’ll never let me go.”

I rub my eyes to hide the tears, but I suspect I’m not fooling Bastion. He sees too much. He always has. Truthfully, when he dumped me, he did me a favor because I was contemplating giving up my plans to escape for him, and no dick deserves that.

Not even him.

Bastion backs away, and I raise my gaze. If this is the last time I see him, I’d like to have the vision to hold close. That’s all I have these days, dreams that will never come true.

“The offer stands. You have my number.”

He’s gone before I can comment, and with a sniffle, I turn back to my side and close my eyes.

If only it were as easy as that. But hell is the only place I deserve to be, and I’ve grown accustomed to the heat.

Chapter Four

Once upon a time, I was a happy, if mischievous, girl with a penchant for trouble. I loved my mom, tolerated my stepdad, and moved through life mostly unfettered.

Now, as I lie in this bed, preparing to be discharged, I cast back to the day everything changed and wish I had done it all differently.

Maybe if I had gutted John then and there, I’d be far away from this world. Even prison would have been more palatable than what I face every fucking day.

But I didn’t move when he caressed his hand over my skin. I didn’t speak when he told me how much he loved me. I didn’t fucking scream when he took away my innocence.

I laid there like a doll and let him break me into pieces. I’m still that doll, but my cloth legs are hanging on by a thread, my button eyes are missing, and my silky hair is shorn short.

I’m well-used and abused. At any moment, the last of my essence will blink out. I’ll be nothing but a throwaway, replaced by a newer doll with pretty everything.

At least I can go knowing I did what I set out to do. I finally found a way to save the only innocent I ever allowed myself to care about—except for her anyway.

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