Splintered Illusion

» nineteen «

I stared out the window, down onto the streets across my house, my hands balled up into fists in my lap. September was approaching, the slight chill in the air clear evidence of that. It didn't help that the heater was still broken, not helping my already cold body. The guy with the darts - whose name I had come to learn was Patrick - had offered to come in with some of his friends to fix it.

I had refused. It was already enough that they were hiding somewhere in the bushes around my house, making sure I didn't escape. And they just wouldn't leave, no matter how bad I tried to get them to go away. I had nearly avoided calling them Puck's pets. But that was low. Really low. I needed to calm myself.

And get out of here so I could find Puck and make sure he's okay.

But with all of them hiding around my house, I had no idea how I'd accomplish this. I'd tried to pretend that I was going to the grocery store, but I had to be accompanied. I could try to fight them, but I think taking into consideration my Victorian Lady state - fainting-wise - and the years of training they had, I would most likely end up wrapped between my own limbs.

Sighing, I pushed myself off from where I sat at the windowsill and made my way back to my bed. I didn't feel safe here anymore. Not after those pictures that'd been mailed to me. Although I'm highly suspicious of Puck's dad, I'm not sure it's him. And even if it is, I still get the feeling of being watched, still get the feeling of uneasiness, of betrayal. My room used to be the only safe place for me. But now, it was another victim to the abuse of the world. And I hated it.

A bitter feeling overtook my chest as I wrapped my arms around myself, bringing my knees to my chest. I wish everything could just be simple. I wish I didn't have an abusive dad and I wished... I wished that Puck's father wasn't who he was. I wished Puck and I could just have a normal relationship - one that didn't have to rely on the foundations of him being an obsessive, toxic stalker before.

I wished my life could go back to way it was before. Before my mom died. Before my dad became someone vile.

I wished a lot of things. But wishing was useless when the world you lived in relied more on actions than anything.

»« »« »«

"We're out," Patrick told me as he entered my bedroom.

I looked up at him, confusion overtaking my senses. "What?"

"We're done. We're leaving. You're free."

I frowned. "What do you mean you're leaving? I'm free?"

"Yep," Patrick said.

I narrowed my eyes at him in suspicion, wondering if there was an underlying meaning beneath his words. "Just like that?" I asked skeptically.

"Just like that." Patrick shrugged, his expression indifferent. "We were just following orders. Now we're done and leaving. I thought you'd be happy."

I stared at him incredulously, pushing myself off my bed. "I am... Happy, I mean. I guess. It's just... Wow. This is weird."

"Like I said, we're just following orders."

I pursed my lips. "Puck gave you the order to cage me in my own house?" When Patrick nodded, my confusion deepened. "So...he also gave you the orders to leave?... Just now?" Patrick nodded again and my eyes widened as I help up a finger. "Wait - so that means...Puck's fine? He got out alive?"