Page 36 of Devil in Disguise

“No! Don’t touch me!”

Dante held his hands up, palms facing me, in a placating gesture. “Okay, okay. I won’t touch you. But please, let me explain.”

I stood there, frozen, my heart racing as I processed his words.

“I didn’t lie to you. We’ve been friends since college, Danny. Best friends. And I’ve always respected your boundaries.”

“Then how did we end up fucking?”

“It’s a long story,” he said, raking his hands through his hair. “God, this conversation would be so much easier if you could remember.”

“What do my lost memories have to do with this?”

“Because our relationship is part of what’s missing.”

I stood there, my mind reeling as I tried to make sense of Dante’s words. “My lost memories... You’re saying our relationship is part of what I can’t remember?” I asked, my voice shaking.

Dante’s expression softened, and he nodded slowly. “I know it’s a lot to take in, Danny. But yes, our relationship is a piece of the puzzle that’s missing from your memory.”

I felt a surge of confusion and anger. “Why can’t I remember? What happened to me? And more importantly, why can’t I remember you?” I demanded as my hands balled into fists at my sides.

Dante took a step towards me, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and understanding. “It’s complicated, Danny. And I promise I’ll explain everything, but you need to calm down. This is a lot for you to process, I know.”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “I’m sorry,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. “It’s just a lot to take in. I feel like my entire world is shifting and I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

Dante nodded, his gaze never wavering. “I know, and I’m here to help you through it.”

As I stood there, my mind raced back to the dream, the kiss and the torrent of emotions that had brought me to this moment. “I don’t know what to think, Dante. I feel like I’m losing my grip on reality. How can I trust my own mind if it’s keeping secrets from me?” I asked, my voice laced with frustration.

Dante took another step forward, closing the distance between us. “You can trust me, Danny. You’ve always trusted me,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring.

I took a step back, my heart still pounding in my chest. I couldn’t wrap my head around what Dante was saying. “You’re telling me I’ve forgotten our what—relationship? That I’ve lost memories of us being together?” I asked in disbelief.

Dante’s eyes were filled with a mix of emotions, from sorrow to determination. “It’s not just our relationship, Danny. You’ve forgotten a lot of things.”

“What things?”

Dante shook his head. “I can’t tell you.”

“Fuck this shit,” I muttered, shaking my head. My head was pounding. Nothing made sense. I knew I wasn’t gay. I liked girls. I always had. None of this made sense.

“You need to calm down, Danny. I know this is a lot to process, but getting upset isn’t going to help.” Dante’s voice was firm while his eyes locked on mine, pleading for understanding.

I turned away, my mind spinning as I tried to make sense of the situation. “How can I not be upset? You’re telling me I’ve forgotten a significant part of my life and you won’t even give me a hint as to what these ‘other things’ are?” I paced the room, my frustration mounting. “I feel like I don’t know myself anymore. How can I trust my own identity if huge chunks of my memory are missing?” I stopped, turning to face Dante, my eyes searching his for answers.

Dante ran his hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration mirroring my own. “I wish I could tell you everything, but it’s dangerous. I don’t want to overload you. I’m trying to protect you.” He took a cautious step towards me. “I know it’s hard, but you need to trust me. We’ve always had each other’s backs, and that hasn’t changed.” His voice was gentle, his expression sincere.

I stood there, my heart warring between anger and confusion. “I don’t know what to believe anymore, Dante.” My voice cracked, the weight of my uncertainty pressing down on me. “And more importantly, how can I be sure that I can trust you?”

Everyone was lying to me. I was sure of it.

The feeling had been gnawing at my gut for weeks now. My family, my so-called friends, they all wore these fake smiles and spoke with false concern. I knew something was up. I just couldn’t put my finger on it.

And then there was the dream. The one that felt so vivid, so real it left me questioning my sanity. In it, I saw my friend, my supposed friend, their face a mask of deceit, laughing at me, mocking me. I knew then that they were all in on it, whatever “it” was. It was a conspiracy, a charade, and I was the only one who could see it.

The dream had me questioning my own reality. Was I going crazy? Was my mind playing tricks on me? I knew I wasn’t gay, but the dream had me second-guessing myself. It was so detailed, so lifelike, that I doubted my own senses. I felt trapped, unable to trust my own judgments and instincts.

As the days went by, I became more and more convinced that something sinister was at play. Every interaction felt loaded with hidden meanings and subtle lies. I analyzed every word, every gesture, searching for clues, for some hint of the truth. But the more I sought answers, the deeper I sank into a quicksand of confusion and paranoia. It was a terrifying feeling, being unable to trust those closest to me, and even myself.

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