Pure Illusion (Web Of Deception #1)

by Michelle Watson

  He smirks smugly, eyes drifting down to my legs. He clamps a hand on my thigh, the searing heat burning right through the silk gown.

  My heart begins to beat in my throat.

  “Yeah, I am. Don’t you remember what my mouth was like?”

  “Umm…” I stare down at the salt grains and orange crumbs in my palms, and my stomach tightens as a deluge of memories from the night before wrecks me.

  “Yeah, you remember,” he states conceitedly. His hand on my thigh moves up, taking the hem of silk up too. “I remember what your moans sound like. I remember what your face looked like. I remember what you taste like.” He shifts forward, pressing his lips to the shell of my ear.

  I shiver and squeeze my eyes shut.

  “Everything about you was heaven.” He flicks his tongue against my ear, causing me to moan and ball my hands into hard fists.

  “Stop, Hunter.”

  This is too much. He’s messing with my head. Torturing me with these kinds of antics is just a game to him. I’m just a disposable toy while breathing in his air is a precious gift to me.

  I’m nothing.

  Invisible.

  I don’t exist to him.

  My breathing is labored for an entirely different reason now.

  He instantly reclines.

  My eyelids snap open, then I notice my fists are clenched so tightly that my nails are cutting into my palms. I flex my fingers, ignoring the burning ache from the tiny red moon crescent-shaped cuts from my nails. Tipping my head back, I stare into steely eyes that look back at me. “You asked me a question. Do I get the privilege to ask you one?”

  His jaw ticks, but he nods.

  “You cut me off years ago. Cold turkey. Why?”

  His eyes move to the flat screen, then he reaches for the remote, presses a button and powers the TV. Hunter scrolls through the guide until he settles on some weird show on Adult Swim.

  “Hunter?”

  His eyes flicker back to me.

  “Are you going to answer me?”

  He slouches back against the pillows, taking me with him. “The truth is always harder to hear than the false reality you build in your head. When the time comes, I’ll tell you everything. I promise.” His arms curl underneath mine and he presses me to his chest as if he never wants to let me go.

  “Promise?”

  “Promise,” he confirms.

  We laugh a lot and watch a few hilarious animated shows that curse excessively (some are pretty gross and vaguer by the way but still funny). Hunter has to take a multiple trips to his truck to get more discarded snacks because my stomach won’t keep quiet. The last thing I remember before falling back off to sleep is devouring a Twix candy bar and the weight of Hunter’s arm comfortably around me, wishing he held me tighter and pleased when he did.

  Chapter fourteen

  Under The Willow Tree

  Isabel age seventeen

  Tyler age fourteen

  The glittering sunbeams filtering through the treetop of the huge willow tree shine down on Tyler, bathing his entire body in warm golden light. He looks like an angel. A beautiful golden angel, even his thick curly dark-colored hair is brighter. We both lie on the cool grass, stretched out on our backs with our arms propped under our heads as we stare at the thick branches and a canopy of long drooping green leaves that surrounds us.

  “Isabel?”

  “Mm?”

  “We can’t leave how they left. It’s too tragic and too lonely.”

  I turn my head so I can face him. He’s referring to both our parents’ suicide. We lost dad when I was ten and Tyler was seven. Mom has been gone for two weeks now. She left behind a seventeen-year-old girl and a fourteen-year-old boy, who both have no one, except each other to hold onto.

  His emerald green eyes gradually meet mine, and he smiles a smile so pure my heart melts. But I know deep down, at the very bottom of his soul, he’s anything but happy. A dark misery that tends to unfold when all the lights are out, when all the witnesses are gone will come out to play. The anguish will ruthlessly strip him raw and bare, and when that happens, he will never know any suffering before it. I only know this because it’s happened to me. It keeps happening to me, and each time it occurs, the pain never dulls, it only peaks and intensifies, growing thicker and heavier until it swallows you up in a pit so black you would think daylight was a folktale that loving parents told their children to keep the scary monsters at bay.

  “We should make a blood oath to never take that route,” Tyler says, still smiling his heavenly smile.

  “It’s kind of voodooish. No?”

  His smile widens. “Are you afraid to take a walk on the darker side with your brother?”He says that as if he speaks from experience.

  “When you’re in hell, I’m in the same fiery boat. So if it’s a blood oath you want, a blood oath you shall receive, my little dove.”

  I dig into the pocket of my jeans and pull out my red Swiss army knife. It was our father’s knife. It’s sort of depressing that I don’t remember much about Ivan Waters. The only things that are crystal clear is, his laugh and the color if his vivid smoky green eyes, and this red Swiss blade. He used to pop open small cans of cherries with it. It was his. Now it’s mine.

  I unfold the sharp knife from within.

  Tyler gives me a concerned glance.

  “It’ll hurt only for a second, after that you won’t feel a thing,” I assure.

  “That’s what the nurses say before they stick you with the biggest needle you ever saw in your life, and you always feel it afterwards.”

  I make an annoyed face, pretending to be irritated. “I’ll show you.” I press the tip of the razor-sharp blade into my thumb and nick myself. The pain doesn’t even register. I’ve gave myself bigger cuts than this small thing. Blood seeps out the small slit. “See? Harmless. Like I said, I didn’t feel a thing. Now it’s your turn.”

  He scrunches up his face, holding his thumb out towards me. Blood makes him woozy. It always had. He always faints when I get nosebleeds.

  I kiss his thumb before I nick him really quickly. He flinches and gasps, but the worst part is already over. “We should say something cool, right?”

  He nods, staring down at the drop of blood oozing from the wound. “Yeah, something cool like, I pledge to live my life as long as I’m given breath to breathe, love to need, space to seed.”

  “That’s beautiful,” I whisper, my throat burning from the tears I refuse to shed.

  “Ready?”

  “Yes.”

  We press our bleeding thumbs together and say in chorus, “I pledge to live my life as long as I’m given breath to breathe, love to need, space to seed.”

  We drop our thumbs after a moment and return to staring at the sunrays. “What does it all mean?”

  His eyes widen. “Now you ask?!”

  I laugh at his bewildered tone.”Sorry?”

  He sighs, shaking his head with that lovely smile on his lips that I hope will never fade. “Breath to breathe because as long as we’re sucking down oxygen with functional lungs, we shouldn’t have any excuses to not live. Love to need because we all need love to grow and become better versions of ourselves. Space to seed because one day…,” he places his hand flat on my belly, “we are going to parents. We’re going to be great parents. The best. We’re going to be the parents our parents couldn’t be.”

  Chapter fifteen

  Slowly but Surely

  The first week I had to convince Falcon that I was truly okay. I wanted him to go back to school and forget about me and my pitiful life. He has a life to get back to, and I have Tyler’s murderer to identify. But, of course, he didn’t budge. I think I made things worse for myself.

  He not only told me he wasn’t leaving, he also told me to take a semester off, and he made me call my one and only friend, Harmony, from UNCG and forced me tell her everything. I never use the word friend loosely. Harmony is my roommate back at UNCG. I met her my freshman year of colle
ge, and I was attracted to her because she’s the total opposite of me. Harmony is outgoing, strong, and independent. She’s also multiracial like me, her mom is Sicilian and Swiss and her father is African American. I was drawn to her from the moment my eyes landed on her deep bronze skin and naturally blond wavy hair and striking grey-green eyes. It broke the fragmented parts of my shattered soul to hear the pain in her voice from what I did or more like attempted. She wanted to come down but she’s at home with her parents, who live all the way in L.A. That’s half a world away from Cherry Creek, North Carolina. I made her promise me that she would stay home and enjoy her winter break. Christmas is just a few short weeks away. She should be with her family.

  I’m still living with Falcon and I haven’t heard from GreenFrog since that first time we messaged. I’m wondering if this entire mystery murderer is just some elaborate joke or game to send me further into the grave. I mean, it wouldn’t take long. I wouldn’t be much fun to play with. I’m already fading away.

  I sit cross-legged in the middle of Falcon’s bed with a bowl of Lucky Charms in my hands as I impatiently watch the screen of the Tyler’s laptop, waiting for the little black box to pop up. It’s Friday night, around the same time GreenFrog contacted me last week.

  After I finish eating, I place the empty bowl on the stand and tuck Tyler’s teddy in the crook of my arm, intensely staring at the screen and tiny icons. Fifteen minutes drag by and I give up.

  Leaving the laptop open, I reach for my cell that’s next to me and scroll down the list of names until I come upon Hunter. I want so badly to hit the “call” button, but I don’t. A huge part of me misses Hunter. Even though I had a glimpse of the old Hunter Friday night, it was enough to make an impact that twisted my gut and perception of who he is. Hunter did give me a concussion. He couldn’t see past his anger and he hurt me. I don’t think it was intentional at all. I even kind of understand how my stupidity could bring him to the breaking point of losing control. He apologized and I forgave him. That’s the end of that. Instead of calling Hunter, I send him a text:

  Me: Hey. What are you doing?

  Hunter: At the hospital.

  Me: OMG!!!! What happened?? Are you okay?????

  Hunter: Why do you always use too many exclamation and question marks? One of each will do just fine.

  Me: You’re such a douchebag. So I’m guessing you’re okay?! Better?

  Hunter: Much better. I’ve been called worse. And yes, I’m okay. I volunteer a few times a month bringing down cupcakes and playing piano for the kids in the oncology ward. It’s my favorite place to escape when I can’t escape my life.

  Me: That’s so sweet. You make my heart hurt.

  Hunter: Douchebag one second, sweet the next. Keep it up. I think you may set a world record.

  Me: You’re back to douchebag again. But seriously, I’m super proud of you. I know it must be difficult to see them all going through so much.

  Hunter: Actually, it has had the opposite effect on me. I see their little bodies going through hell, fighting every day for every breath, for every second, and seeing that makes me so much stronger. They don’t give up when life slams them down on the ground and tramples them nearly to death, so why should I?

  Me: You’re right. That’s beautiful.

  Hunter: Tell me something I don’t know.

  Me: I missed you this week. Why didn’t you come over to see me?

  Hunter: I was busy. It’s not good for us to be together. It killed me to know I put my hands on you. It isn’t right. You know the things my father did to my mother. I’m turning into him. No matter how hard I try to stop the cycle, history keeps repeating itself. I don’t trust myself around you, the thin lines between right and wrong get blurry and completely disappear when you’re in my presence. Avoiding you is just easier than the pain I cause when I’m with you.

  Me: Is that why you cut me out of your life? If it helps ease a fraction of your guilt, I forgive you. I’ll always forgive you. I think if we tried really, really hard, we can make it together. Because you make me better.

  Hunter: Isabel, that’s a really fucked up way to look at this. You deserve so much better than me and what I can offer. Jesus, I don’t speak to you for six years and you send me a text like the one you just sent. As fucked up as it is, it does give me a weird sense of relief to know you forgive me. And to be honest, that was one of the reasons I didn’t want you to be involved in my life. Until I get myself together, I think it’s best to continue to stay away from you. I gotta go. The kids want an encore.

  Staring at his last message and trying to think of a good response, the telltale ding of the black box echoes around the large bedroom, startling me.

  GreenFrog: How was your week, sweet Isabel?

  PureIllusion: Stressful. When should I expect you? Only Fridays?

  GreenFrog: Fridays are my favorite day of the week, so yes. I did gather a little information about the night Tyler was murdered. It was storming that night and raining so hard that visibility was nearly zero. The lights in this little town went off. There was a blackout. The street lamps that line The Suicide Bridge are bugged with cameras. The entire bridge has surveillance. With the blackout, the cameras should still serve their purpose due to the backup generator. But no tapes were produced and given to the local police or to you, so I’m assuming that foul play is involved. The security company that has surveillance over the entire town is, Gabai Industries.

  PureIllusion: Are you saying that Omar, Max’s father, killed my brother?

  GreenFrog: Not quite. All I’m saying is keep your eyes wide open when you’re around the Gabai family. But there is a way for you to get more information. You might have to get your hands dirty and get out in the field.

  PureIllusion: How dirty are we talking?!

  GreenFrog: Tomorrow Max’s little brother, Rex, will be turning eighteen. He’s having a grand birthday party at their lavish mansion. You should go. Pry a lot and see what you can come up with. It’s worth attending. Wear something pretty and silver. Silver is Rex’s favorite color. Guys love a pretty girl in a pretty dress. Be sugar sweet and airheadish. The stupider, the better. The party starts at 9:00 P.M. Good luck.

  And just like that the black window with the bright green text vanishes. I fall asleep watching RuePaul’s Drag Race and sniffing Tyler’s bear that smells so much like Hunter. I dream of silver glitter and sparkly dresses and catty drag queens.

  Chapter sixteen

  Special You

  Someone nudges me on my arm. I grunt and roll on the opposite direction of the bed. The same person pokes me in the side of the ribs and in the ass. “Stop,” I say hoarsely. “It’s rude. I’m still sleeping.”

  A pair of hands pushes down on my back, pressing most of their weight on me and bouncing my body up and down against the mattress as if I’m some kind of play toy or ball.

  “Seriously? What the hell?”

  Soft giggling noises come from the individual at hand. Small hands cup my butt, feeling me up. “Wake your ass up, love bird. I flew all the way from California. The least you could have done was open those pretty little eyes for me.”

  What?

  Harmony?

  I groan, turning over to face her. I’m greeted with warm grey-green eyes and a mop of lustrous golden hair. I wipe the sleep from my eyes. “What are you doing here? I told you not to come.”

  She tsks, waving her slender index finger in my face. How Hunterish of her. “When a friend tells another friend not to come that always means: come and please be with me, and I need you more than you think. So don’t give that bullshit sob story that you’re okay, because I know you. And you’re definitely not okay, love bird. I’m here, you’re here, and we’re here together. Plus, I have to keep The Creep away from you.”

  My brows lift. “The Creep?”

  “Yeah, The Creep, Hunter Knight. That dude is a real fucking stalker, like for real for real. I can’t believe he gave you a concussion and spanked you.” She fr
owns, shaking her head.

  “How’s he a stalker?” I ask, a bit confused.

  “Well, I came up with that conclusion on my long flight over here. Just hear me out. Hunter dropped you like a slimy used condom—”

  “Really? You couldn’t just say ‘hot potato’?”

  She shrugs dismissively. “Who wants to use old ass similes like that? The point is that he cut you completely and totally out of his life without an explanation. You were his childhood best friend, Isabel. You just don’t erase someone so important without something substantial enough to do so. You dated his other ex-best friend throughout high school and moved away to college. This may just be me, but what’s the chance of Hunter attending the same college or wanting to attend the same college as you. You would be nothing but a dark cloud of misery from the past for him. Why would he want to be at the exact same college when he had other options unless, unless he wants to watch you. Keep you in his line of sight. I’ve never really paid attention to how many coincidences there were when it comes to Hunter Knight, how he eats at the same places you do, how he’s involved in the same activities you are in, how he shops at the same stores you shop at. I thought about every moment I saw him, but there’s this one moment in particular that stands out from all the others. I was running late one night. I was suppose to meet you at the library for our crash study session, but when I arrived, Hunter, he was watching you so intently like a predator that stalks its prey before it eats it. He was sitting alone at least six tables away without a book, piece of paper, or anything. He was just staring, wide-eyed and alert. You were so engrossed in your books that you never knew he was there to begin with. I thought it was weird but not important enough to bother you with it. Now that I look back on it, it’s fucking creepy, lovebird. He was your shadow the entire time and you never knew.”