Page 69 of Fragmented Illusions

Accept it.

Be who we really are.

With them.

I feel free. Truly free.

You felt that.

The taste of death.

The finality of it.

Now imagine.

Giving that to someone—and then taking it away.

Imagine what that would bring you.

To feel their life flow through your veins as they take their last breath.

The taste of their death on your tongue.

On your hands.

In your heart.

Your mind.

Freedom.

My eyes fly open as white swirls around me.

I feel as if I’m flying through the air. As if the snow is carrying my body through the trees, until I’m right where I want to be.

The rotting and decaying front door to my freedom.

Chapter Fifteen

Spencer

“Do you think it’s safe for us to be here right now? Likethis?” I ask Sol, diligent to keep my voice low as I press the side of my masked face to his.

“We’re in a dark theater where everyone is staring at a screen on the other side of the room as us. We will be fine.” He keeps his gaze forward, locked tight on our pretty girl and her friend. I peer through the gap of the chairs and see their hands locked together, her friend squeezing so tight, I can almost see the way Fallon’s fingers blanch from the pressure.

My lip curls at the sight and a ball forms in the pit of my stomach—the very one I feel when it comes to Sol.

“I don’t like her touching Fallon,” I spit out, barely resisting the urge to sink my blade into that bitch’s stomach. I press my right hand to my thigh, right over my pocket and grip my knife through the fabric. The feel of it gives me some semblance of comfort, but not enough to satiate me.

“Control it, Spencer,” Sol drawls. His tone is flat, bored. It pisses me off further.

“How the fuck does that not bother you? That bitch is touching our pretty girl. Iknowyou can fucking see the way she has been staring at her since they left the apartment.” I pull my hand back to fucking pull out my knife and sink it in her throat and be done with it all.

Take Fallon and escape it all.

Start anew.

My body is suddenly shoved back into the plush reclining chair as Sol’s upper half leans over the armrest separating the two of us. His face is so close to mine, I can see the anger in his eyes through the holes made to see. His mask presses against my own, causing it to bite into my skin. I swallow down the lump in my throat as I stare into his eyes—eyes that are almost a perfect match to mine.