Page 82 of The Stone Curse
I stood alone at her graveside, maybe about sixteen at the time, the rain masking my tears.
“Do you remember this day?” version two asked softly.
Version one made a sound of exasperation. “Let’s show her.” She shoved me into the memory, into the body of my sixteen-year-old self. My chest felt like it was being crushed, a weight sitting on it that made it hard to breathe, but the sobs kept coming anyway.
Why? Why did you leave me? I’m so alone, mum, I can’t do this. I need you. I need you so badly.
“Jason Darcy broke up with you that day,” version two said. “Even after you had sex with him.”
“You gave it up so he wouldn’t leave you,” version one pointed out. “Pathetic. Look at you, crying to your dead mommy over a fucking twit of a boy.”
My face burned with shame beneath the tears. Yes. Being with Jason had made me feel wanted. I’d known deep down saying no to him would mean losing him. I’d known deep down what kind of boy he was, but I’d been afraid of him breaking up with me. Afraid to be unseen once more, and so…Yeah, I’d agreed to sleep with him. He left me anyway.
“Stop it!” version two said. “She was sixteen. He was her first love.”
“She knew better,” version one retorted. “She knew he just wanted in her panties. She wasn’t ready, but she did it just to try and keep him.”
I remembered the ache of loneliness afterwards. Seeing Jason with Clarissa Morton. The rumors he’d spread about me being a slut. The propositions from other boys. The shame and isolation. I’d never told Romi, too embarrassed, too scared that he’d be disgusted with me and stop coming to see me.
“You used your brother as a crutch,” version one said. “And then he was taken too, and look at you. You threw yourself into danger because you couldn’t bear to let go.”
“She needed closure,” version two said.
“No, she needed a distraction from the fact that she was alone once more.” She grabbed my shoulder and pulled me from my sixteen-year-old body and back into the dark. “You’re pathetic, Cameron. You’re desperate to connect. To belong, and it weakens you. People leave, they die, and every time that happens, it breaks you.”
“That’s not true,” version two said. “Connections make us stronger!”
“Really?” version one sneered. “Let’s see, shall we?” Light bloomed, clinical and bright as the infirmary bloomed around us. “A recent memory, perhaps?” She crossed her arms and arched a brow. “Take a look.”
Heartbreaking sobs filled the room coming from the bed where I lay on my side, curled up in a fetal position. I closed my eyes to block out the scene, not wanting to feel that pain again.
“You see what connections can do?” version one said. “You wasted so much time grieving something you couldn’t have had anyway. Even if you save him, you’ll be forced to say goodbye all over again. How is that sane,hmmm?”
“It’s called love!” version two said, hands fisted at her sides. “And it’s what makes us?—”
“Human?” version one taunted. “But we’renothuman, are we? And the sooner she accepts that, the sooner she can move on and pass this fucking trial.”
The infirmary melted away, but we didn’t go back into the dark place; instead, we materialized on a platform that extended partway across an abyss, and dangling from chains in the center was Derek’s shadowy form. His head lolled onto his chest, body loose and limp in unconsciousness.
“Derek!” I rushed to the edge of the platform. “Derek! Can you hear me?”
“I’m afraid he can’t,” version one said. “And he never will if you don’t make the right choice now.”
Choice? “What do you mean?”
“Stop it, you’re scaring her,” version two said.
“She should be scared. The wrong choice now could mean she loses everything. Her shield. Her mate. Her brother, and her life.”
My pulse raced. “What do I have to do?”
“Pick one of us,” version one said.
“What?” I looked between them.
Version two stepped in front of me. “We are you, Cameron. Potential versions of you. And to pass the trial, you must choose one of us and kill the other.”
“What the fuck? I’m not killing anyone.”
