Page 90 of Misery

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"Since the beginning?" My voice breaks. "You've known this whole time?"

"Not the whole time. But... recently. Yes."

"And you didn't tell me."

"I was trying to?—"

"Protect me. I know. That's all anyone does. Protect me from the truth. Protect me from choices. Protect me from everything except the actual danger that keeps finding me anyway."

Rio arrives and takes in the scene—broken glass, broken phone, me looking like I'm about to shatter too.

His face careful, neutral.

The face of someone walking into a domestic dispute with weapons involved.

"I'll stay with her," he tells Oskar. "You go find Ivar."

Oskar doesn't want to leave.

I can see it in every line of his body.

The way he leans toward me even now.

The way his hands flex like he wants to reach for me.

But finally, he nods. Turns to go. Pauses at the door.

"I love you," he says quietly. "That's not a lie."

Then he's gone.

I sink back to the floor.

Rio starts cleaning up the glass, giving me space to fall apart.

He hums something under his breath—an old song, something calming.

Treating me like a spooked horse.

My broken phone buzzes from where it landed.

Cracked but still working.

The screen flickers, damaged but readable and there’s a text from unknown number.

I shouldn't look, know I shouldn't, but I look anyway:

Your father's alive. For now. Oskar's looking in the wrong places. But don't worry, little artist. I'll take care of everything. Like I always have. Like I always will.

Sweet dreams. We'll talk again at 3:17.

- T

3:17. The exact time I wake up from nightmares.

The exact time I paint my demons.

I show Rio and watch his face pale.

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