Pure Illusion (Web Of Deception #1) Read online

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the permission in writing from author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Copyright©2013 Michelle Watson

  Pure Illusion (Web of Deception #1)

  Michelle Watson

  To the lonely ones that ever felt unworthy.

  You are cherished more than you know.

  To the irrational ones who opt to think outside the box.

  Keep it up, you are inspirational.

  To the rebels that defy the world’s perception.

  Stay focused, we need you.

  To the scared ones.

  Move forward, we love you.

  To the dreamers.

  Don’t ever wake up.

  Illusion: a false mental image produced by misinterpretation of things that actually exist.

  Prologue

  Part I

  Drowning

  Chapter one

  Chapter two

  Chapter three

  Chapter four

  Chapter five

  Chapter six

  Chapter seven

  Chapter eight

  Chapter nine

  Chapter ten

  Part II

  Anonymously Known

  Chapter eleven

  Chapter twelve

  Chapter thirteen

  Chapter thirteen

  Chapter fourteen

  Chapter fifteen

  Chapter sixteen

  Chapter seventeen

  Chapter eighteen

  Chapter nineteen

  Chapter twenty

  Chapter twenty-one

  Chapter twenty-two

  Chapter twenty-three

  Chapter twenty-four

  Chapter twenty-five

  Chapter twenty-six

  Chapter twenty-seven

  Part III

  Revelation

  Chapter twenty-eight

  Chapter twenty-nine

  Chapter thirty

  Chapter thirty-one

  Chapter thirty-two

  Chapter thirty-three

  Chapter thirty-four

  Chapter thirty-five

  Chapter thirty-six

  Chapter thirty-seven

  Chapter thirty-eight

  Chapter thirty-nine

  Chapter forty

  Chapter forty-one

  Chapter forty-two

  Chapter forty-three

  Chapter forty-four

  Chapter forty-six

  Chapter forty-seven

  Chapter forty-eight

  Chapter forty-nine

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek of Pure Perception (Web of Deception #2)

  Thank you note & About Author

  Prologue

  7:00P.M., October, 31st

  People never truly know you until you die, that’s when your soul really is free of limitations and heavy confines that living cause. Once your soul leaves your body it unfolds to reveal your true nature, whether it may be a deceitful web of nasty little secrets or an honorary existence as pure as gold.

  I can’t say I’m astonished or even surprised to be here, witnessing my very own funeral. To be honest, I expected it. But, it still pains me to see them all hurt, especially my older sister, Isabel. We made a blood oath long ago and promised one another that we would never take our own lives, only because our parents took that exact route. But what she doesn’t know is that I didn’t renege on something that meant everything to us. I didn’t commit suicide. My killer is amongst the small somber crowd that is dressed in funeral black and holding towering umbrellas over their heads to keep them dry from the never-ending rain as they all gather around and watch my polished mahogany casket lower into the wet, runny, muddy earth.

  There are a few shining stars among the sea of black, though. The people I sincerely and wholeheartedly cared about and loved with every facet of my being. Those special stars of mine have on a rainbow symbol somewhere on them, whether it’s a bracelet, earrings, or in Hero’s case, a bowtie. They wear it to represent me, not just because I was a proud gay, but because I loved rainbows. I always thought of the colorful, vivid arch in the sky as a bridge, a bridge that leads to a happier and brighter place.

  A bridge was how I died. My killer shoved me off The Suicide Bridge, the tone of steel with a 210-foot drop to jagged rocks and rushing rapids. Besides the abundance of wild cherry trees, meadows, rivers, and cliffs, it’s the biggest attraction we have in Cherry Creek, North Carolina. Countless souls willingly took the leap of death off The Suicide Bridge, and I wasn’t one of them.

  It’s kind of ironic though, right?

  My poor sister, she’s too blinded by the thick cloud of misery and grief to ever see all the beauty and danger that surrounds her.

  Hunter Knight stands a few feet away, fidgeting with the thin multicolored rope bracelet around his left wrist. He likes to wear meaningful things on his left side because it’s close to his heart, a heart that I thought iced-over long ago. But I guess I was wrong, because here he stands, intently staring at Isabel as if she might instantly vanish at any second. He looks guilty. Hunter Knight should feel guilty; he caused Isabel so much anguish throughout her life, so much heartache, so much sadness. Isabel isn’t aware of Hunter, though. I don’t know whether he’s more harm or aid to her at this point. She’s going to need help—a boatload.

  I run my fingers through her long hair and then wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her close and leaning my head on her shoulder.

  I love you Isabel.

  Her body begins to shake.

  I am very sorry you’re hurting.

  Tears pool in her eyes.

  But I need you to wake up, beautiful girl.

  She tries to hold them in to keep them from falling.

  Wake up and seek the truth.

  A stream slides down her cheeks.

  With the truth you can move on and so can I.

  Her fists ball up and clench at her sides.

  This is reverie, beautiful girl. Everything you thought you knew isn’t what it seems.

  Isabel’s throat constricts and she cannot catch her breath.

  I need you to break out of the illusion and see reality for what it is.

  Wake up.

  Wake up.

  Wake up.

  BREATHE!

  Through the tears, she inhales a deep breath.

  Known and unknown hazards and threats lurk within the shadows of the golden path that leads to the end of the rainbow. All that you see and don’t see are set purposely to question your intuition. Remember within this world of reverie trust your two eyes and heartbeat.

  Beyond the paved asphalt roads and proud American waving flags from the porches of neat rows of identical colonial brick houses and further past the lush green lawns and churches, something sinister harbors within Bayham County. The darkness may rest within the moss-covered oaks of the small southern town of Cherry Creek, North Carolina.

  Part I

  Drowning

  Chapter one

  Lights Out

  Today is the last day of the rest of my life. I’ve lost the fight to live and the struggle of breathing every day is just too much to bear. This emptiness within me can’t be filled with anything that has sustaining po
wer. I wish seeing the sunrise every morning was enough, enough to make me change my mind, enough to keep me here. But it’s not. Even when the brightest star shines its halo on me, my eyes see nothing. My eyes are as vacant as my soul; every ounce of my being feels stripped, bare, and left exposed to the harsh elements of life.

  Fragile.

  Talk of me, Isabel Charm Waters, will spread like wildfire. I’m proving everyone is this small-town of Cherry Creek, North Carolina, right. I’m the little weak girl that would snap at any moment after my brother’s horrific suicide.

  His name was Tyler Casimir Waters.

  I watch idly as Tyler’s brown teddy bear floats face down on top of the surface of the murky water, near the end of the tub. The bath I’ve ran for myself has gone cold, as cold as the blood slowly pumping in my veins. With as much energy that I can muster, I try to reach for it but my arms are too numb and heavy to lift. Giving up, I sink further back into the tub, allowing my muscles to unclench and relax. The water is overlapping my nose. I can feel my heart beating. It should be wild and deafening but it’s so slow; a mellow melody of death. Once the song ends though, there will be no replay or encore of any kind, just silence.

  All I want is silence.

  My eyes shift to the empty bottle of sleeping pills on the bathtub countertop. Suicide doesn’t happen like it does in the movies. It isn’t instant, lights out, unless, of course, you’re brave enough to pull a trigger and blast a bullet through your brain.

  You have to wait for the blackness to swallow you whole. The worst part is waiting on death to happen. The peace you want is there, within arm’s reach, but it’s taking its leisurely time to put you out of your misery. Even when you stoop to this level of desperation, you still don’t get the satisfaction of getting what you desire when you desire it the most.

  Please just take me.

  I’m ready.

  I’m ready.

  I’m ready.

  Closing my heavy lids, I begin to drift away, my heart faintly thudding in my chest. It’s a fading tempo that I can’t keep tabs with.

  Black.

  Then reality.

  Silence.

  Then the sound of a weakening heart and labored breaths.

  Nothing.

  Then a fragmented view of everything.

  A voice calls to me as I float in and out of consciousness.

  It’s a real voice.

  “Isabel!”

  That voice.

  That voice wants me to live.

  “Isabel!”

  The voice gets closer as I drift further.

  “Isabel! Please, please, please open your eyes.”

  I’m so sorry.

  Darkness.

  Then the heat of someone’s fingers wrapped fully around my upper arms as they settle behind me in the tub. The heat is burning my skin. My body slumps against someone’s solid frame. Whoever’s behind me has an intense fire within. Their flame is scorching me. “Isabel, baby, open your eyes.” That voice sounds as hopeless as I feel.

  I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m just tired.

  Stillness and then movement.

  Warm fingers are forced down my throat; searing vomit sprays everywhere, on me, on my unidentified angel.

  Everything comes back and hits me like a freight train and it is pure agony.

  The oxygen I’m tussling to inhale whistles through my chest and scalds my deflated lungs. Salt from fresh tears fill my slack mouth as I whisper incoherent things, as I release my secrets and tell someone my every fear, my every dream, my every tragedy. My body can’t stop shaking around the pleasant warmth that surrounds me.

  A soft kiss on my left shoulder is want I get in return; that kiss burns right through the layers of skin and soaks into my bones.

  Except that kiss is more than just a kiss. It’s a kiss of promise, a kiss that sets my soul ablaze.

  “Isabel, I have to get you out this tub.”

  That voice!

  I know that voice.

  Please let it be anyone other than that voice.

  Realization seeps through the thick haze that blankets my brain and my eyes move to the long, lean pant legs on either side of me and down to grey Vans sneakers that are by my feet, at the end of the tub that’s filled with Tyler’s teddy, dirty water, chunky, foamy white vomit.

  I burst into tears at this hopeless situation.

  It’s him.

  Why did it have to be him?

  The next thing I know, I’m hauled up into strong arms and carried away into my room. I keep my eyes close tight, refusing to witness any of it, refusing to accept him as my savior.

  He gingerly lays me down on my bed, then moves somewhere within the confines of my bedroom. He’s back with a towel.

  My heart is erratic as he swipes the fuzzy material down the length of my body. He dries every nook and cranny: my hair, my armpits, my belly. But when he wipes between my legs, I inhale sharply, a surge of desire strikes me and leaves my flesh tingly. I feel my body respond to him; I’m getting wet. Aroused. His movements are gentle but very certain and precise. It still doesn’t stop my tears and countless pathetic whispers of protest.

  He ignores me as he rummages through my chest of drawers. A short moment later, delicate cotton is dragged up my ankles. “Lift your hips,” he orders, firmly moving them up my legs.

  Obeying but still crying, I do.

  After he puts my panties on, he slides some loose jeans up my legs and zips and buttons them. Then I hear him searching through my drawers again. “Can you sit up?”

  I don’t answer him.

  “Isabel?”

  Nothing comes out.

  His weight sinks in the mattress as he sits beside me. He lifts me towards his lap and tugs on my bra, strapping all the hooks it in place, putting my shirt, socks, shoes, and jacket on me after.

  What is he doing here?

  He’s the reason I have scars up my arms.

  He’s half the reason I want to die.

  “Please leave,” I murmur, eyes still closed tight, voice hoarse and raw.

  “No,” he says after a heartbeat. He places the hood of my jacket over my head after zipping it up, and then he sweeps me in his arms like a wounded pet. “I’m taking you home with me.”

  “Please leave,” I repeat numbly.

  “No, Isabel. I’m not leaving you. I’ve done enough of that already.”

  Warmth I shouldn’t feel spreads too quickly, eating away at the ice in my chest.

  “Please leav—”

  “No! Stop speaking. Just let me care of you. Please.”

  Swallowing thickly, I press my lips together as he carries me through the house, outside in the cold rain and into his truck. His truck smells of spicy cinnamon mint and cologne and something magical that’s all Hunter.

  Hunter Knight.

  The beautiful boy with the blond hair and crystal-clear blue eyes and sun kissed skin.

  Hunter Knight.

  The boy I loved since third grade.

  Hunter Knight.

  The boy who mercilessly smashed my fragmented heart into dust.

  Hunter Knight.

  The blackness that clouded my light.

  He straps me in and then slams the door.

  The door to the driver side opens. He glides in, bringing the engine to life. “Please get the bear,” I say to the window.

  “What?”

  “The bear—get the bear from the tub. Please.”

  He doesn’t sigh or give any impression that he’s losing patience, though I don’t know the exact expression on his face because my eyes are still clamped shut. The door swings open; the hinges make a loud squeaking noise because of old rust. I hear foots steps splash against the rain puddles as he heads towards my empty house. Then I hear nothing but the sound of the rain heavily drumming steadily against the roof of his red Chevy truck.

  A moment later, Hunter returns, slamming the truck door behind him. He tosses a plastic bag that contains Tyler’s
soggy bear on my lap and drives off.

  Chapter two

  The Sun Still Shines In The Rain

  “Are you going to open your eyes?”

  I don’t respond.

  “Why did you bring her here? She looks like she’s barely holding on. You should take her to the hospital.”

  I know that voice, too.

  That’s Hero Knight, Hunter’s younger brother.

  Hero is the one responsible for my brother’s death.

  My brother told me everything, everything about beautiful eighteen-year-old Hero, who is a spitting image of his older brother. Exactly. They look too much alike. Hero even wears his hair long like Hunter does.

  I know everything.

  Hunter touches my hand and, for the first time since we’ve been together, I grip his hand tight, interlocking our fingers.

  “Man, she’s really pale. How do you know she won’t kill herself when you leave for a bathroom break?” Hero adds, suspiciously. “She’s six feet under waiting to happen. Everyone knows all the Waters are suicidal lunatics.”

  “Get the fuck out of my house, Hero,” Hunter snarls.

  “Chill, Hunter. I’m leaving. Mom just sent me to check on you. She said you aren’t answering her phone calls. You haven’t showed up to Sunday dinner in like two months.”

  “Hero,” Hunter warns quietly.

  “Alright. I’m gone. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to know you have Cutter in your house.”

  Angry footsteps recede down the hall towards the spiral staircase and through the living room. The front door slams shut, the impact of it all vibrating through the walls.

  “He made you upset,” Hunter states softly. “I’m so sorry about that. He won’t be here, around you. So don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.”

  Silent tears roll down my cheeks. Hunter wipes them away with his fingers but they keep coming. He slides into his bed with me, pulling me against his taut chest. “I’m really tired, Hunter,” I confess, losing myself in another current of tears.