Page 113 of Iris' Lying Eyes
“But?”
“But we c-couldn’t find him, and I tried, but I had nothing.” She waves her hand uselessly, and I slam my fist against the wall.
“Let me guess. McCafferty.”
“Well—”
Brushing past, I mumble, “You’re all idiots.”
∞∞∞
The goon out front jumps to do my bidding when I demand a car. I don’t know if it’s because I’m hysterical or B tipped him off. Either way, I’ll take it.
Once we’re in the vehicle, I tap out a text and lean my head against the seat. I told myself over and over to keep my guard up. I failed.
And now Sam may be in danger. Does John have him? He’s held the specter over my head for years, and I’ve always given in.
I thought I could trust Alice to protect a fucking innocent. I guess I was wrong. She’s more like her mother than she realizes.
Useless Fucker: I can’t talk now
Excellent. I’ve done everything he’s asked of me. Everything. And now that he has what he wants, he’s a ghost. Dropping the phone to the seat, I stare out the glass as we pass through the streets.
Eventually, I see regular family homes, no doubt filled with people living picture-perfect lives. Do they know what is happening beyond their bubble? Do they care?
The house is dark. And after I’m dropped off, I let myself in tiredly and go straight to my room, where I start pulling shit out of my closet. Old clothes, costumes, bags, and other crap.
It all belongs to someone who died. That time and those memories don’t exist anymore.
At the back, tucked up against the wall, is a small box. I fumble with the latch before sliding to my ass and raising the lid. A soft sigh escapes as I touch the soft, fuzzy fabric before wrapping it around my fingers and bringing it to my nose.
But the scent is gone. She’s gone. Fuck me.
“Come.” I don’t have to look up to know it’s John. After all this time, I think we’re psychically linked in some ways.
Carefully, I fold the blanket and press it back into the box. John is quiet until I finish before he shifts, and I lift my gaze.
Normally his pale blue eyes would make me cringe, but I’m seriously numb as he holds out his hand. This is it. I knew he’d come. I’m his obsession, and he’s my end.
I step past him without taking his hand. I’ll never willingly touch this fucker again. He chuffs and follows me from the room before opening the passenger door of his car.
The ride is quiet, and I brood out the window. If I wasn’t so caught up in my own grief, John’s silent countenance would be worrisome, but I don’t have it in me to care.
By the time we reach the cabin, dawn is blushing the sky in crimson and purple hues, reminding me of that old saying, “red sky at night, sailors’ delight. Red sky at morning, sailors take warning.”
Take warning. Fitting because I hate this fucking place. If he brought me here, it’s because we’re perfectly secluded. No one will hear my screams. Fantastic.
To say I loathe John would be an understatement. The soul-deep feeling that lives in my chest prays for his end with every breath I take. I’ve never admitted it out loud, but when he set his sights on Rain, for a moment I felt nothing but relief. Maybe the torture was finally over.
But no, his need for Rain was simple in comparison to his obsession with me. It’s an affliction that, at times, inspires him to be incredibly fucking stupid. But somehow, he still lives past every dirty misdeed.
“You’ve been a very bad girl,” he tsks, and when I don’t respond, he grabs me by my hair and forces me from the vehicle.
I’m so fucking tired of being manhandled, but wisely, I hold my tongue.
“Well?” he demands, and I shuffle on my knees, staring at the ground.
Dressed in the clothes Bastion paid for and kneeling before John leaves me dizzy. From quasi, if fake, princess to whore once more. It’s no wonder I felt like an impostor. All roads led back to this one. I just took the long way.