Page 47 of Fragmented Illusions

“Two beautiful women at our feet. It’s interesting I only want to gut one of them,” I tell Sol, eager to hear his thoughts as well.

“I know the feeling.”

I sigh, grateful I’m not alone with this foreign feeling. Ever since Fallon Kessler walked into this cabin, these chaotic feelings have been stirring inside of me. I don’t know how to handle them, but I know Sol is even worse off if he’s feeling even a fraction of what I am.

He got the brute end of Mom’s abuse—always sacrificing himself to protect me. So, in the end, he was affected more than I ever could be. But I understand him. We understand each other and that’s why it’s always been him and I against the world.

Now we have Fallon.

I know without a doubt Sol and I will fix her. Then it will be the three of us.

Even when we’re six feet under and rotting away, the bugs destroying our flesh for their own survival, it will still be the three of us.

Chapter Twelve

Fallon

I wake up in my bed, my phone lying on my pillow next to my face. My head feels surprisingly light, despite how I came to be unconscious. I stare up at the white ceiling, seriously contemplating my entire existence—especially with everything that happened today.

My thoughts, the most concerning of all.

I wondered what that woman would look like dead. Rotting. Blood trickling down her chin as her last breath escapes her parted lips, eyes wide with fear.

The thought of her expression is what scares me the most, the fear, theknowingthis is it. The end.

I want to see that, more than anything. Just once. Just to know.

Dangerous thoughts.

You’re slipping, Fallon.

You don’t even care to fight it anymore, do you?

It’s right. I’m losing the ability to fight. To care.

It’s exhausting—pretending to be someone I’m not. Pretending to be perfect.

You don’t have to fight it anymore.

You have another option.

Option? What option?

Them.

My phone pings next to my head, jarring me, the sound ringing loud in my ear. I reach my hand blindly to my pillow and grab my phone, already knowing who it is.

Unknown: today was enlightening.

Unknown: You, our pretty girl, are far more interesting than we ever could have imagined.

Our pretty girl… For some reason, that nickname sets tingles throughout my body, tightening my core.

I know I shouldn’t text back. I shouldn’t engage with them in any way, but I can’t help it. The intrigue I have for them is inscrutable. Dangerous. I’m sure this will ultimately end with my demise, but if I’m being truly honest with myself, my death has been a long time coming.

It has always been lingering right underneath the surface, lurking, waiting for the opportune time to make its presence known, desired.

And those two men are Death in the flesh.