Page 352 of Phobia
Angel of mine.
My love.
So pretty for me.
Anthony, you're breathtaking.
I feel his hands on me, tugging me closer. Delorean is back as he promised me.
His breath licks at my lips.
“You little bastard! I should have known you'd crawl out of hell to get even.”
My eyes fly wide open.
John.
My heart pounds a million miles an hour, my body frozen in terror as his hands tighten around my throat and choke out the last of my breath.
How?
Delorean!
Dee!
But there is no one coming to my aid, I just know it. I'm all alone with John.
Is Delorean even real?
Have I been dreaming all this time?
It sure felt too good to be true. Him. Us. All of it.
We were never real.
Am I just waking up from the drugs John gave me?
Is ourhomea dream?
Is my safe, warm nest a lie?
I lay there numb and weak, allowing him to kill the last of me. If Delorean isn't real, I don't want to fucking ever wake up. There is nothing to breathe for, nothing worth fighting for.
If John kills me now, it’s all I could hope for, as it seems I’m so far gone in my delusions I’ve hallucinated all the moments that I’ve shared with my lover. I’ve feverishly concocted this beast amongst men to be my fated soulmate. My doom and my salvation.
My brain has finally given into insanity. My frail mental condition has taken over all of my faculties.
I'm fractured no more. I’m shattered into a million pieces.
I've finally faded away, succumbing to my invisible sickness.
John lets go of my neck briefly and slaps me, screaming in my face, shaking me roughly.
“Say something, you little prick!”
I gasp for air and he times his next hit just as my burning lungs feel the respite.
My head swivels to the right, throbbing painfully. John hits me again. This time his fists are raining down on my face. I can feel my nose caving in and my mouth flooding with blood.
