Pure Illusion (8 page)

Untouchable

Isabel
age six

Hunter
age seven

“So
they call it Cherry Creek because the town has a lot of cherry trees?” I ask my
mom as I swing on the tire swing, hanging from the big willow tree in front of
my house.

“Um
huh,” she replies, giving me a soft shove from behind, sending me higher into
the sky. “And during the spring and fall most of the cherries end up in the
river.”

“I
guess that’s kinda cool.”

“You’re
six, sweet pea. Everything’s ‘kinda cool’ to you.” My mom catches the swing in mid
motion, bringing me back to her. My legs dangle from the black tire,
shoestrings from my red Converses unlaced on both shoes, but they don’t reach
the ground yet. I’m not tall enough. She turns me around. At first the bright
sun rays filtering through the treetops obscure her face. It’s just the
brilliancy of the white-yellow sunbeams and loose strands of her light wheat
blond hair that escaped her long braid and her white flowy dress. She looks
like an angel. I squint and my eyes slowly adjust. She smiles at me with
gleaming green eyes.

“I
love you, Isabel.”

“I
love you, Mommy.”

A
small cry echoes from the house. She glances at the front door,
then
looks back at me. “Looks like your baby brother
is
up from his nap. After I feed him, I’ll bring him outside
to play with you, alright?”

“Okay.”

She
kisses my forehead, then her hands release the rope of the swing and she
strolls up the side of the house and up the yellow wooden steps to the porch.
Mommy pauses at the glass door and turns to look back at me. “Don’t leave the
front yard, sweet pea.”

“I
won’t.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

She
smiles and nods, opening the door and walking inside the house.

I
shift the swing back around and before I can make another move, someone
suddenly pushes the swing, sending me flying across the yard. I go tumbling to
the ground, landing on my belly. My knees and hands are scrapped and bleeding.
It hurts and stings so bad. I open my mouth to cry for my Mommy but a warm hand
pulls me off the ground.

I
wobble a little as I get back on my feet.

I
look up and a boy with blue eyes and long ashy golden hair, wearing overalls
and white pretty shoes. He presses his finger against my lips.
“Shhh.
I didn’t mean to hurt you. It was a prank.”

Something
wet drips down my legs, I look down and see lots of blood coming from my knees.
My eyes fill with more tears. The pretty boy covers my mouth with his hand.
“Don’t scream. I’m not supposed to be here. You’ll get me in trouble. I’ll kiss
it and make it better, okay?”

Sniffling
and wiping the tears with the backs of my hands, I nod.

“I’m
gonna remove my hand and kiss your sores. I know it hurts but you can’t
scream.”

I
nod again.

He
stares at me for a while and then drops his hand and picks up both of my mine, flipping
them over so he can see the red scratches on my palms. He lifts my hands to his
face and kisses each palm.

His
lips make me feel funny.

My
tummy hurts.

I
close my eyes as tears roll down my cheeks. He lets my hands go. I feel his
warm lips touch the wetness on both my knees. I stagger back from the funny
feeling in my chest and tummy.

I
feel sick.

The
boy catches me by the arms before I fall again.

He
smiles and dusts off the grass and dirt from my dress. “I got you all dirty.
Will your Mama be mad?”

I
shake my head.

His
smile gets bigger. “That’s good. I get dirty all the time and my Mama whips me.
I never cry though. But she doesn’t cry when Daddy whips her either. Mama says
Daddy lost his mind when his brother Smith died.”

I
ball my fists up, even though they hurt and my tears fall faster.

He
puts his hands on my face, wiping them away. “Does it hurt that bad?”

I
look down at our shoes and shake my head.

“Why
are you crying then?”

“I’m
sad.”

“You’re
sad ’cause I pushed you off the swing?”

I
shake my head again.

“Why
then?”

I
sniffle and wipe the wetness from my nose with my arm,
then
I glance into his blue eyes that look like pure water from the sea. “Because
your Mommy whips you, I’m sad for you. I’m crying for you.”

He
breathes in a big breath and his eyes widen. He drops his hands, taking slow
backward steps like I scare him.

I
step forward until we’re face-to-face once more. I reach up and hold his face
in my hands. He has a little red blood drop on his bottom lip. My fingers move
to his pink lips and I run them over the spot, removing my blood.

His
blue eyes get huge and we stare at each other for a long time.

He
blinks.

I
blink faster.

Then
he smiles and reaches up into my hair, plunking a green leaf. “I like your
hair. It’s soft and smells good.” He leans in and kisses the tip of my nose.

I
take in a big breath.

My
tummy ache is getting worse.

His
smile gets wider before it vanishes. “Now I have to go, Isabel.”

My
brows pull together. “How do you know my name?”

He
backs away from me, still smiling. “’Cause I know you,” he turns his back to me
and jogs in the direction of the main road where I’m never allowed to play.

“Wait!”

He
stops but doesn’t turn to look at me.

“What’s
your name?”

“Hunter
Knight.” He waves goodbye and then runs, disappearing from my sight.

“I
think I love you, Hunter Knight,” I say to the wind, somehow hoping he hears
me.

***

Hunter

The
first three hours Hunter watched in agony as she tossed and turned, sweating and
shaking. Isabel was finally coming down from the pills. How she got them,
Falcon and Victor had no idea. They lost track of her back at Mayhem. It was a
small mishap on their end but a monumental mistake in reality.
She wants to
die
, he thinks.
How the fuck did that stupid fucker fuck up?! How did
Isabel slip out of Falcon’s reach? Does he not understand that she wants it to
end? Nope. Not gonna happen. Not while I’m here. It’ll get better. She has to
survive this.

“Baby?”
Hunter presses
an icepack wrapped in a small towel over her forehead.
She’s burning up.

Isabel
doesn’t respond. Her small body is racked with dry heaves. She spent an hour
and a half just vomiting in a bag Hunter held open for her to spew in.

“I’m
hurting. It hurts,” she mumbles, nuzzling her face in his chest.

He
leans down and kisses her cheek, a gesture not-so new to him when involving
Isabel. She doesn’t know the depth of despair and darkness he carries within
himself. Only Sally Baker knows. Sally Baker knows very well what Hunter Knight
is capable of. What he can destroy and tarnish within a blink of an eye. But
Isabel isn’t Sally Baker, and she won’t be as long as Hunter can keep his
daemons at by long enough for her to escape his wrath before it’s too late.
Because weakness attracts darkness and darkness lures in fragile, sweet,
beautiful things.

Isabel
groans, circling her arms around his middle.

He
pushes her long hair from her sweaty face, sliding the icepack down to her
neck. Unable to resist, he leans in, placing a small kiss in the hollow of her
neck. Hunter watches in amazement as tiny goose bumps cover her flesh.

It
can be from the icepack
, he thinks, lying back down beside her.

He
stares at the girl who always had the will to break him from the very
beginning. It’s going to be a battle of wills between the two, no doubt about
it. He buries his nose in her hair, taking a huge whiff of dark berries.

“Which
one of us will crack first?” he whispers to himself, closing his eyes,
marveling at the sound of her steady heart.

Hazy Discomfort

Someone
jabs me in the ribs. I groan and roll away. Hands grab me and drag me back.
“Wake up, Isabel. You’ve been out of it for two days. Wake up or I’m taking you
to the hospital,” Hunter declares.

My
eyelids slowly open. Blinded by the fierce light of the sun, I squeeze my eyes
shut and groan again. “Can you please close the curtains? My eyeballs feel like
they’re about to melt and ooze from my skull.”

The
bed springs squeak as he rises to draw them.

I
open my eyes to a darken room and slide up against the headboard. I wince from
the dull ache that pulses in my wrists and backside.

Hunter
just sands and stares at me like the weirdo he is.

I
yawn and scratch my head. “Why am I so sore? My ass hurts.”

His
lips spread into a slow, malicious smile. “You’re bruised, but you’re healing
quite nicely.”

My
ear drops to my shoulder, and I blink. “Bruised from what?”

His
stunning, wicked smile broadens as he holds up his hands, palms up, playfully
wiggling his fingers.

“Your hands?”

He
nods.

“I
don’t understand.”

Hunter
comes closer and sits in the empty space beside me. “What do you remember?”

“I
remember eating at the diner with Falcon and Vic. I wanted to go to Mayhem.
Victor dressed me in a fairy gown and design beautiful henna…,” I trail off and
raise my arms that are no longer detailed with fine, elegant art.

“What
else?” His voice is urgent and strained.

“The club.
Victor told me
to stay close and keep my phone on.” A heavy pounding and fog begins to cloud
my brain.

“Tell
me more,” Hunter demands, his determined eyes locked on mine.

I
close my eyes and drag my hands down my face, sighing. “I don’t know.”

“You
do. Talk.
Now.”

Leaning
my head back against the headboard’s chilly metal rails and taking a deep
inhale, I look at the angry purple discolorations wrapped around both wrists.
They’re strangely even and stripe-like. My fingers trace along the bruised
welt. “There was this guy. He gave me some ecstasy. I took some.”

“How many?”

I
feel the heat of his eyes burning into me, making my stomach knot. “Two pills,
a star and a peace sign. I felt warm and fuzzy. All I wanted to do was dance, I
think.”

“Is
that all?”

I
press a finger into the strip of purple and watch as the blotch fades and
slowly reappears from the indention, ignoring the throbbing pain I caused. “The
rest is kind of hazy.”

He
leans over and flips my hair over my shoulder. He jaw tenses and he swallows
audibly. “How’d you get that bite mark?” 

I
follow his gaze to a red rugged ring.

He
gingerly trails his fingers over the wound, and I shudder. “Uh…” The shroud
that’s smothering my brain gets thicker.

“How’d
you get it?” Hunter repeats, eyes narrowing and darkening all at once. He lets
his hand fall to the bed, his fingers fisting in the sheets. “Did Max do that?
Did he fuck you too?”  

I
jerk my head back, gazing up into the depths of his violent eyes. His bitter
accusation surprises me.

My
brows almost rise to my hairline. “Max?”

The asshole Max Gabai from high school?

Max
Gabai, Hunter’s sworn enemy?

His
eyes widen, an odd emotion I can’t place twisting his features. The control and
patience he’s trying so hard to hold onto snaps. Before I can process any further,
he hovers above me, his massive hands fully and painfully wrap around my upper
arms. He starts to shake me like a lifeless ragdoll. His face is so very close
to mine that I can see the flecks of aqua blue in his cornflower blue eyes.
“Did he bite you, Isabel? Did he fuck you?! Did you let Max fuck you?!”

The
more he shouts and thrashes me around the angrier I get. The forceful strength
he uses to shake me is beginning to make me dizzy and weak. My teeth are
clashing together and my bones feel like they’re rattling from within. I can
almost feel my brain getting tossed inside my head as it bobs wildly.

His
fingers tighten around my arms. “You let him fuck you, didn’t you? You fucked
him! You fucked him!”  

We’re
nose to nose now.

He
screams in my face, furiously shaking every breath of life out of me.

I
squeeze my eyes shut to block him out, but he continues to mercilessly jerk me
forward and backward.

I
feel lightheaded.

I
think I’m getting whiplash.

Everything
is twirling around me, spinning around and around.

My
heart thunders in my ears.

Why
do I feel sleepy?

The
screaming slowly begins to fade and stream into eerie silence.

His
tight fingers that sear my arms loosen. The gush of blood that passes through
my waiting veins is so painful that I would yell if I didn’t feel so woozy.

“Isabel?
Isabel? God, I don’t know…”

What?

What’s
happening?

I
feel tried.

“Baby,
don’t go to sleep. Open your eyes. Open your eyes for me, Isabel.
Please
open your eyes…”

My
eyes lazily flutter open to Hunter’s panic command.

He
sounds worried and scared.

I
don’t want him to me worried or scared, just full and happy.

My
eyes open for a fraction of a second and through the black slits, Hunter’s
glossy and horrified eyes are completely focused on me. “That’s it. Open your
eyes.”  

I’m
sorry.

My
eyelids are just too heavy, and I’m just too drowsy.

I
fail and they close.

The
warm and soothing darkness envelopes me in caressing silk wings that’s very
pleasant around my body.

Finally
it’s taking me.

Finally
it’s quiet.

Finally
I can breathe again.

That’s
all I ever wanted.

Voices
are muffled somewhere far away.

Hands
tug clothes over my limbs.

Cold
air whips pass my face.

Someone
places me in a warm backseat of a car.

The
engine starts and darkness swallows me up.