Ultraviolet ✔️

23.1

Chapter Twenty-Three

Stan faces the looming threat of being caught with an eerie calm. He's so arrogant, so sure that nothing and no one can possibly touch him. Admitting any semblance of weakness would be out of character, and an option he would never consider. He's such a far cry from the person I believed I knew that I honestly find myself dazed and a little overwhelmed by it all. Such sharp contrasts managed to exist in one mind.

It's impossible. It should be impossible, at least. If there was any sense in this situation at all, he wouldn't be able to hide his true self for as long as he did. It's insanity. It's not right or fair or just or logical.

My headache worsens from the confusion alone, not to mention the wounds or loss of blood. God, I can barely keep a hold of myself or the situation. I'm trying, but there's only so much willpower I have. My body is fighting me with everything it has.

I don't want to give in. I don't. But I'm going out gradually.

I slump back a little, and Stan is there instantly grabbing hold of my shirt. "Oh, no you don't. You don't get to go before I've had any fun at all."

He pulls the gag from my lips, giving me time to respond.

"Go... fuck... yourself..." I slur out, barely able to speak.

He releases me and lets me slam into the wall behind me. "You talk big for someone who isn't holding the gun."

I blink back tears and try to keep my face blank. He doesn't deserve the satisfaction of catching me reacting to him. He's going to be brutal and ruthless, and there's nothing I can do about it.

"Are you afraid to die?" Stan asks me.

I narrow my eyes. "What?"

"Are you afraid to die?" he repeats.

I shrug weakly. "No. No, I'm not."

"Good," he says. "You don't have much time left, I'm afraid. You're worse than I thought."

"Like you care," I wheeze.

"I do," he tells me. "I like you, Vi. It's a waste of your gifts for you to just go out like this."

"I doubt you're capable of sympathy," I spit. "If you really were so intent on keeping me alive, you wouldn't have pulled the trigger."

"It's your own fault," he remarks. "All you had to do was say yes."

"I never would. If you knew me at all, you would have been sure of that before you broke into my hotel room."

"Would I?" he taunts. "Does anyone really know you at all, Violet?"

The question haunts me. Does anyone? I'm a series of secrets overlapping into a single human being. I don't make sense to myself, let alone another person. My powers are a mystery, my wants and needs are too.

I will die an enigma, I suppose. Not that I really give a damn.

The sires and lights are right outside now.

"They're coming," Stan announces. "Now for the finale."

Before the police arrive, Joel pulls up right on the lawn. His SUV roars and his headlights push through the windows. He throws the door open, running straight into the house with his gun raised. One foot is all it takes to kick the barriers away.

"Violet!" he yells. "Where are you?"

No. No. Get out of here, Joel.

"Run!" I scream. "Don't!"