Pure Illusion (10 page)

My Name, Your Scar

I
didn’t know I was quietly sobbing into Hunter’s armpit until I feel the rush of
tears roll down my face and wet his skin.

He
kisses my hair, holding me tighter.

“It’s
kind of cruel of you to dangle a life I longed to have in front of my face and
snatch it ruthlessly away.”

“I’m
just trying to make you understand that we can’t happen.
Ever.
When you get that through that pretty head of yours and see me for who I truly
am, we can be age-old friends. But look at the silver lining in this thick
storm cloud. When you meet a very special guy, you get to have
that
life
with him. He’d be your world and you’d be his, and the absolute best part would
be that you’d forget about me, forget about the pain I caused when you look
into his eyes every day. He’d be your Hero Husband.”

“But
I don’t want a Hero Husband,” I sniff, wiping my runny nose with the back of my
hand.

“You
don’t know what you want,” he scoffs.

“And
you do?”

“I
think I do.” He tone is matter-of-fact and it’s pissing me off.

I
lift my head up and tilt it to the side, looking into turbulent eyes that seem
to want to eat me alive. “Says who?”

He
smiles.
“Says me.”

Rolling
my eyes, I lean back into his warmth. My stomach growls loudly, startling me.

“Hungry?”

“Thanks
to you I haven’t eaten all day.”

He
cringes as if I threw scolding water on him. “I am sorry, Isabel. When you said
you didn’t know how you got that bite mark that translated into you had no clue
who
touched you, or
where
they touched
you, and
what
happened. I saw red and lost control. It shouldn’t have
happened, but it did. It happens often. It’s a piss-poor excuse, but that’s the
truth. I wish I could just stop and be normal, but life isn’t normal. The shit
I’ve been through…The shit I put you through…” He trails off, squeezing me
tight against his bare chest. Every wisp of air is smacked out of my lungs from
the impact. His lips repeatedly skim my forehead in a gentle assault.

My
fingers dig into his flesh as my heart pounds against my ribs. “I hate you so
much,” I whisper, meaning the exact opposite and he knows it.

He
gives me a squeeze, crushing me with his heavy arms. “I hate you, too, baby.”

My
pulse quickens.

I
love you, too, baby.

That
thought alone makes my stomach flutter…and growl, too.

“You
need food,” Hunter murmurs, his sweet breath fans across my face. “I can pick
you up something.”

My arms spasms around his middle.
“No.” My voice
is frantic and needy. “I mean, I don’t want you to leave.”

“You
need to eat,” he says firmly.

“You
said you would stay until I fell back off to sleep. You also said you wouldn’t
let Falcon take me. You already broke one promise so far, are you going to
break this one, as well?”

“You’re
not gonna let me win this, are you?”

“Nope.”

I
feel his smile in my hair. “Well, luckily I have peanut butter crackers in my
sweatshirt pocket.” I release him and he throws his legs over the edge of the
bed and stands, stretching both arms up above his head. The muscles in his in
his core expand upward too. My eyes absently travel across his body until I
come into a faint scar. The scar is long and huge and it’s across his left
ribcage. I narrow to see it clearly as he moves and bends, scooping up the
hoodie from the floor. The scar isn’t just a singular scar; the elegant, fine
lines are just one big collective word. It’s my name. My name is written across
his ribs.

My
eyes widen in pure shock.

Did
he do that to himself?

Is
that self-inflicted, like my scars?
 

He
digs the crackers out, tossing his sweatshirt on the chair, on top of my duffle
bag. Hunter’s head jerks backward and his brows furrow as his wary eyes meet
mine. “Why are you looking at me like that?” He hops back into bed, handing me
the orange plastic packet of crackers.

My
hands tremble as I receive them.

“Isabel,”
he cautions lowly, “what’s wrong?”

I
shut my eyes for a brief moment, trying to regulate my rapid breathing and
hammering heart. “My name…it’s on your ribs.”

His
spine immediately stiffens, eyes growing wide in awareness.

“Did
you…do that?”

He
says nothing.

My
fingers tighten around the crackers, I feel them snapping and crushing into
crumbs under the pressure of my hands. “Did you hurt yourself because of me?”

His
jaw clenches. “Eat, Isabel.”

“Hunter—”

“Eat.
Your.
Crackers.”

“But—”

“Isabel,”
he warns in a deathly quiet tone, eyes darkening into murky blue. “Please eat
the damn crackers.”

I
glance down at the smashed cracker in my hands. They’re broken into many pieces
like me and they don’t look as appetizing as they did before, but I lift them
up to my mouth and peel a corner of the plastic off with my teeth, ripping the
packet wide open.

Hunter
appears pleased as I nibble on larger fragments of crackers. “Let this go for
now. I’ll tell you why when it’s right to do so, just drop it. Okay?”

I
nod, staring at the plasma TV straight ahead, avoiding his eyes. “We should
watch a movie or something.”

He
follows my gaze the massive flat screen. “Yeah, that sounds good. But I need to
ask you something first.”

“Ask
away,” I reply, still avoiding his eyes.

“Why’d
you call me over here?”

“I
was…” I trail off and swallow hard. I turn my face towards the wall, feeling
dread infuses with my blood. “I was horny.”

“And
you called me for a one night stand…a booty call?”

“No!”
I squeak, turning to face him.

Hunter’s
cheek lift and he laughs, clasping his hand over my mouth. “Shh. I’m just
fucking with you. I’m
amazing
in bed; I’m talking ’bout
howling-to-the-moon-toes-curling-body-convulsing good. Or so I’m told.” He
winks at me, a sexy self-assured wink. “You’d want more than one night, little
liar.”  

My
brows rise as I shove salty peanut butter crumbs into my mouth.
“That good, huh?”

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.

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.”