After Blight

By A.C. Warneke

In another life Rebecca “Beck” Lewis was an Elite Blight Fighter, the best of the best, and she reveled in the kill. The only good Blight was a dead Blight and there were a lot of dead Blights at her hand. But that life has ended and when she wakes up she finds herself in an alien world: a private hospital for the clinically insane.
Through therapy and drugs, Rebecca struggles to determine what is real and what is a creation of her imagination. Is she a warrior who battles the undead or is she just a girl who can’t handle reality? In the end there is only one choice and she does not hesitate.
And that’s when things get interesting.

*****

After Blight is not for everyone. In fact, it's not for most people so please read the sample before purchasing. After Blight is the second book in a series following Beck and while it is not absolutely necessary to read the first book I do recommend it. There will be a third book.
Another book that is tied to Blight and After Blight is Awakening, which takes place several years after the events of Blight and After Blight and is the story of Adamanteros, a minor character in After Blight.

*****

After Blight is an Urban Fantasy/Paranormal Romance told from the perspective of a girl who has gone mad only to realize she isn’t the one who is insane, it’s the world around her. Approximately 110,900 words in length, After Blight contains elements that some will considered offensive: angels who swear, demons who are loyal, a phantom lover who is cruel, a real lover who is loyal to a fault and a heroine who is trying to find her place in a world that she never belonged.
Sex, violence, violent sex, strong language, After Blight is not recommended for those with weak stomachs or who are under the age of 18.

• Language: English
• Publisher: A.C. Warneke
• Release date: Dec 14, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311021366

A.C. Warneke

Like most writers, I spend most of my time telling myself stories and occasionally writing them down when they get too loud to remain in my head. Each book likes to be created in its own way, which makes establishing an environment that is most conducive to writing quite difficult, though it occasionally involves Dove chocolates, music, minesweeper, lots of solitaire, notebooks and scraps of paper, doodling and day dreaming, and fruity, sugar-free bubble gum, not necessarily in that order and not always at the same time. Of course, none of this would be possible without the love and support of my very loving and very tolerant family, who politely listen as I go on and on about my characters' motivations and back stories, their connections within the worlds created and how they fight to gain control of their destinies. But I am a cruel writer and make them earn their happy endings. Since I am also a Romantic at heart, they are all happy endings. Available Books: Darkness Comes (Darkness book 1-PNR) Darkness Falls (Darkness book 2 - PNR) Stone Lover (Stone Passion Trilogy book 1 -PNR, romantica) Stone Romance (Stone Passion Trilogy book 2 -PNR, romantica) Stone Destiny (Stone Passion Trilogy book 3 - PNR, romantica) Siren Song (PNR) Stone Solitude (Stone Passion Twins book 1 - PNR, romantica) Stone Seduction (Stone Passion Twins book 2 - PNR, romantica) Awakening (PNR/UF) Blight (UF) After Blight (Blight book 2 - UF) Blind Attraction (Contemporary) Winter's Heart (STEAMY Contemporary) A Million Kisses or More (Contemporary) I love hearing from readers. Email me at: [e-mail] or connect on facebook: www.facebook.com/ACWarneke or visit my blog and leave a comment: acwarneke.com

Book preview

AFTER BLIGHT

By

A.C.Warneke

Smashwords Eidtion

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Published by A.C. Warneke on Smashwords

AFTER BLIGHT

Copyright©2013 by Andrea Warneke

All rights reserved

Images credit/copyright© Kiselev Andrey Valerevich/ Shutterstock

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedication:

To the newest member of the family, Sarah: I trust you know what you're getting in to since you did agree to marry my son.

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To my children and my husband, always.

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To the men and women of the Armed Forces: Thank you for all that you do!

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To my readers: Without readers there would be no need for books and what a wretched world that would be.

Acknowledgement:

First and foremost I wish to thank my Beta/ARC readers from all around the world for all of their help in hunting down rogue errors and setting them straight and for their feedback. Jacque Burford, Jess Gentile, Jodi Negri, Celita Collins, Lindsey Armstrong, Casey Decock-Horvath, Katherine Whang, Waleska Crespo, Paris Lemos, Colleen Reilly, and Kim Friedhoff: you gals are simply wonderful!

♥♥♥♥♥

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AFTER BLIGHT

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The story so far….

Rebecca Lewis was ten years old when her world was savagely ripped away from her. She and her older brother Michael were saved but she would never be the same again. For thirteen years she struggled with her demons on a daily basis, using her abilities and rage to fight the Blight. Along the way, she tried to be normal for her brother’s sake, tried to be sane for her partner’s sake, and tried to be emotionally frozen for her would-be lover’s sake. But the Powers that Be were conspiring against her, she was losing her mind, and time was running out.

She walked into the Research Lab filled with escaped Blights knowing that she was walking to her own death. But it was the only way to save her brother and in the end, saving Michael was all that mattered.

Him – the amethyst-eyed man who tormented Beck in her dreams and towards the end of Blight He was stepping into her reality, driving her ever closer to madness.

Blight – The poor souls infected with the Blight virus, a deadly contagion that causes the infected to exhibit behaviors similar to the undead. There is no cure except beheading.

The Agency – The organization that employed Beck and the other Blight Fighters in order to control the Blight problem. Eradicating the Blight is only one aspect of the secretive organization.

The Academy – Connected to The Agency, The Academy is where future Blight Fighters are trained and where Beck occasionally assisted Professor Holmes with his classes.

Prologue

I open my eyes and look out over the lush landscape: the verdant green trees with the gloriously vibrant fruits, the crystalline waters of an indigo blue lake, the pristine fields of wildflowers. The scent of rain and sun and storms and wildfire brand themselves on my senses and I breathe it all in, deeper and deeper until I am the water that falls, the light that shines, the electricity and the inferno. I am all of these things and I am separate, flying above it all. My wings stretch outwards, catching the wind and pushing back against it, lifting me higher and higher until the world is a distant light in the darkest of space. Then I tuck my wings against my body and spiral back to the earth.

Laughing, I extend my wings and come to a halt inches above the firm, unforgiving ground, my stomach lurching in joyous exultation. For hours, days, I fly, remembering what I was before I woke up in a cold, hard body, before I became human.

I pause, the memories of being human slowly seeping back into my mind. Hovering above the ground, my iridescent wings gently undulating to hold me steady, I scowl because wings are a construct of my human mind.

But there is something I am supposed to do, something important. It is the reason I decided to not only give up my wings but to become flesh and blood, to become human.

Angel made flesh, the first and only of our kind to do so.

I became human to save someone….

I became human to end the world.

Pain erupts in my skull as I remember and my body pulls in on itself to try to forget, to exist in the oblivion of Heaven. My wings wrap around me, the iridescent light fading into my soul as I crash through the sky, the earth. As I crash through the memories.

Someone is in my head, my memories. Picking, prodding, what do they hope to accomplish? New pictures are being painted over the moving images of my life. They're false, an illusion, and I can see through them but I feel them as if they are real. With each layer of detail added it is becoming harder to see the truth, to see who I am.

I have to stop them before they erase me from my life. I have to go back and find myself beneath these layers of paint.

They're trying to erase Wilson.

No!

The screaming pierces the shattered remnants of my mind, dragging me back from the jagged edge of oblivion. I’m not an angel – I can’t be – because I am in Hell and the screams are the sounds of souls condemned to eternal damnation, eternal punishment. It is my sentence for a life lived too close to darkness, too close to death. I relished in the kill and so I have been sentenced to a never-ending existence of this, of screams and torture.

I deserve this wretched torment. I deserve to burn for flirting with madness instead of love, instead of Wilson. Wilson with his sexy blue eyes and short, blond hair, his arrogant brow and sculpted jaw, his decadent mouth and flashing dimples, his sleekly muscled body and devastating wit. I never should have believed insanity was better than an uncertain life with the man I had adored for so long. We could have fought together, brought an end to the Blight once and for all. It doesn't matter that in the end I did choose him because I fucked up. In my joy of finally choosing life I failed to see the threat until it bit me and condemned me to death.

I am burning but it is not with fire, it is with regret and my thoughts betray me, even in death. My throat tightens, raw and bloody beneath the layers of flesh. My brain pounds against my skull and the screaming is making everything worse. I can hear the pain, the anguish. The rage.

Fuck! Did someone put an amplifier in her voice box? Incessant and agonizing and heartbreaking…. Oh, for fuck's sake. Damn it all, I’m the one screaming.

I stop immediately and nearly groan as my burning, straining muscles relax. And though my throat is still a little tender, my head is already feeling a thousand times better. The loss of screaming torture is replaced with a silence so loud it nearly collapses in on itself but the pain is gone. A sound of relief comes from the bottom of my soul and with that slight noise I begin to hear the soft tap-tap of someone typing, the quiet whir of electronic devices, the soft rhythm of people breathing.

The memory of how I ended up here washes over me and I shudder. I came so close to escaping, so close. I almost had a chance at a normal life with Wilson.

I must have miscalculated or missed something because from out of nowhere a Blight grabs me from behind and bites into my neck. Its arms squeeze the breath from me and darkness converges in front of my eyes as stars explode. Its hot breath doesn’t smell of death, it smells fresh, like spring rain or lightning. My momma’s breath had been rancid and horrid, but this Blight….

Its teeth sink into my skin, burning and then numbing. My fingers tingle, my toes burn, my arms and legs prickle, as my blood is being drained. With the last of my strength, I swing, not even feeling my blade connect. It flies away with the head, landing with a metal clank almost at my feet as Blight venom courses through my veins.

I’m so cold, colder than I have ever been in my life.

As the memory slowly seeps away and my brain becomes less foggy, I try to bring my hand up to my neck, to feel the bite marks that have to be there, but my hands don’t move. There is no give as I jerk my hands and I realize that tethers bind my wrists. I test my legs and find that they are bound as well. Twisting my arms, trying to break the straps, I know that it’s simply a matter of… what? Damn it, why can’t I remember? Sluggishly, I try to concentrate, finally realizing that I’m lying on something rigid and cool. An operating table? Am I in a hospital? Are they afraid I’m Blight?

Do they plan on dissecting me?

I struggle to open my eyes and hiss as I am nearly blinded by the garish fluorescent light overhead. Blinking a few times before I can see, I turn my head to the side and see a large mirror on the wall. Two-thousand dollars there are people on the other side watching me, observing me for signs that I'm Blight. I slowly turn my head to the other side, lamenting how cumbersome my body feels after having been able to fly once more….

No, that was simply a dream. I’m not here to save anyone or destroy the world. I’m simply Beck Lewis, former Blight fighter, currently confused. How the hell did I survive a Blight bite when I almost remember dying? I felt the venom as it spread through my body, burning me up from the inside out. I begged them to kill me, I begged them….

It is so damn difficult trying to keep my eyes open when all I want to do is go back to sleep and not think at all. But I need to figure out what happened, where I am. I have to determine if my memories are still my own, still real, if I am who I think I am and not the shattered girl they tried to make me. No matter how far I bent I did not break. At least, I don't think I did.

Through narrowed eyes, I sluggishly turn my head to the other side to see that there is nothing and no one in the room with me. I am alone and strapped to a table and the sounds I heard earlier came from the other side of the wall. The white walls are stark and sterile but I see color, so much color it fills my head and makes my brain protest its complexity.

I blink slowly as my vision returns to normal and I think I’m still dreaming because I don't feel quite human, as if these bonds cannot contain me. All I have to do to free myself is concentrate a little on the tethers and… voilà, I knew it was something simple! The manacles melt away from my wrists and immediately my hands find one another and massage the tender skin. My fingers trace the thin scars and I smile because it’s still my body.

I finally bring my hand up to my neck and can almost feel the two round circles on my jugular. Cringing with self-disgust, I wonder how the hell one got past me. I had cleared the room, I know I cleared the room, and still I was bit. Only, I don’t feel that different so maybe the serum worked after all. But why would I be strapped to a table in an observation room? Unless I really am in Hell.

No, this can't be Hell. Whatever place this is, I need to get out of this room and figure out where to go from here. It might be a good idea to make my way home, where I am familiar with the layout of the land. It’d only be for a few days, just until I can get my thoughts in order and decide what to do. At least, that would be my plan if this was real, if I wasn’t still asleep.

Slowly, unsure of how my head is going to react, I sit up and manually unfasten the bindings at my ankles. There’s no point in over-taxing this whole violation of physics thing I’ve got going. Swinging my legs over the side, I land with a solid thump against the concrete floor. The shock spikes through my legs but it feels pretty damn good to be standing again. I’m a little wobbly, but I think that has more to do with having lost most of my blood, ur, a few days ago? How long have I been out of it?

Other than feeling hungry, really thirsty and a little bit woozy, I don’t feel particularly Blight-ish. Of course, having never been Blight before, I can’t really say how a Blight is supposed to feel. I would imagine hungry for human blood and brains and that is just, ugh, disgusting.

I turn my head and catch my reflection in the mirror, surprised that I still look like myself, that I still look human. My auburn hair is pulled back into a long braid, though a few strands have come undone and are framing my oval face. I am absurdly pale, which is sadly normal. My lips are still plump, not sunken from lack of blood, and I actually look almost rested. I hadn't realized how dark the circles had gotten beneath my eyes until they were no longer there. My eyes stare back at me and that freaks me out a little since they are vividly, unnaturally green and very intense, alive. They’re not dead, yellow, Blight eyes.

I pull the loose-fitting hospital gown taut against my body, seeing the familiar lines of my slender limbs, the curves of my breasts, the indent of my waist. I think I should probably eat more because I can make out the ridges of my ribs even through the thin gown. That can’t be good. It hardly seems possible that the person staring back at me was capable of taking out a roomful of Blights but I've always been a freak.

I thought one wasn’t able to see their reflection in a dream. Maybe that is a myth because the rules of physics apply in the real world and I broke them so I can’t be awake. This has to be a dream or maybe physics is a concept for the living and has no place in Hell.

I shrug off the thought as I test out my arms and legs. Bending at the knees, I bounce a little, not feeling any stiffness or rigor mortis. Everything seems to be working and I’m pretty sure all my parts are in order. I meet my gaze once again and notice that the brilliance has faded a bit, though my eyes still gleam too brightly. It seems that I’m not exactly Blight so the serum must have worked. But again, why keep me locked up in a secure room?

Or maybe my body is in the morgue and these are the last thoughts of a dying mind. Am I a ghost?

Letting my thoughts fight it out in my subconscious, I walk over to the door to get the hell out of here, see what this new existence has to offer. As my hand wraps around the knob, the door slams open and a white-coated man bursts into the room, followed by two gigantic, very muscular behemoths. Before I can say Boo! there are two large hands grabbing each of my arms and I am lifted off the ground and hauled further into the prison cell. I glare into the eyes of the man in the white coat and growl, Where am I?

Someplace safe, he says carefully, as if expecting me to go off the deep end and start raging like a lunatic. His brown eyes study me from behind his tortoise shell glasses and his eyes are filled with zealous enthusiasm. Maybe this is Hell and he is my personal tormentor. He is a small, wiry man or demon, not much taller than my own five four. He probably weighs just a few more pounds than the hundred and fifteen that I command. He has to be around fifty, with silver hair that is standing up awkwardly, as if he’s been pulling at it and I’m guessing he spends way too much time in the lab. He has to be a demon even though he looks suspiciously human, with no horns or tails. Of course, demons can probably mask their demon-ness.

I twist out of the behemoths’ hold and make a run for the exit. Grabbing the door handle, I rip the door off its hinges before a thick arm is wrapped around my waist and I am hoisted off the ground. Squirming around in the brute’s arm, I slam my fist into his jaw, knocking him out with a single punch. As he falls backwards, his arms relax and I land on my feet and turn towards the other beast of a man. A slight smile curves his lips as he crouches down in preparation.

Unfortunately, I never considered the danger posed by the scrawny doctor until I feel the needle puncture my thigh. Spinning, I glare at the man who holds his hands up to show me he has no other weapons. He slowly takes a step towards me and speaks in a calm, controlled voice, You’re safe, Miss Lewis.

Tilting my head to the side, I frown and wonder safe from what? Before I can ask what he is talking about, he starts to waver and I shake my head to clear it. I glare at the doctor demon and feel my tongue thicken as I ask, What did you do?

We gave you something to help you sleep, he says, his voice becoming distorted along with his image.

My brain is shutting down as my vision falters even more. I don’t want to sleep, I need to leave. I have to save someone….

It’s alright, Miss Lewis, the man garbles as the single standing behemoth drags me back to the table where the doctor demon is probably going to dissect me. When you wake up, this will all be like a dream.

Between one breath and the next, I am laid back on the table but they don’t restrain me. With the last of my strength, I sluggishly turn my head and meet the doctor demon’s eyes, Where am I?

Broken Souls Asylum, he drawls in a rough voice. Gently, he draws his fingers along my temple and for a moment his brown eyes flash amethyst but I know it isn’t Him because the little man wants me to sleep without succumbing to him first. I try to tense, to flee, but my body refuses to cooperate and all I can do is rage in silence. It’s a private hospital for… lost souls.

My eyelids drag down until I can no longer hold them open and as I drift away, a soft female voice asks, Did we get what we needed?

We got enough, the little doctor says before darkness embraces me and I sleep.

Chapter 1

As I wake once more, I'm lying on a bed that is soft and so comfortable I want to sink into its depths and try to remember my dreams where I was a superhero and I fought the hordes of the undead until my untimely death. Anything is better than my real life, where I spend my days in a padded room and try to figure out how to live. Most of my life is buried in a haze of drugs and solitude as the doctors try to hold my shattered mind together with medication and therapy. It hadn't worked before because I preferred the terrifying world of my nightmares but now there is hope and I am getting better.

But my brain is foggy and my body is numb and I don’t feel real, my memories don’t feel real. Slowly, I open my eyes expecting to once again see the padded room I usually wake up in but much to my delighted surprise, my surroundings are different, peaceful and almost pleasant, and I briefly wonder if I am still sleeping. I don’t recognize the almost familiar room.

Sitting up, I push my hair out of my face and blink. There is a small window with pale yellow curtains dancing in the gentle breeze and I wonder why they gave me a room with a window if they meant to keep me prisoner. Not able to work out why I would think I might be a captive, I continue my perusal. A small dresser sits along another wall with a few personal items that look vaguely familiar, as if they belonged to me in another life: pictures of my family when I was just a child, before the Blight, before I lost my soul and fell in love with… with….

Wait… what are the Blight? Everything is so jumbled up inside of my head because I remember that the Blight don't exist, that they never existed, and yet they do. They are a plague on humanity and I spent the last several years of my life fighting them. Except I have spent the last several years of my life here, in the mental institution.

Shaking my head, I slowly slide my legs over the edge of the bed and shakily come to my feet. I have to put a hand on the nightstand to keep steady as the room swirls around me and I have to catch my bearings. Closing my eyes, I take a steadying breath because I have to get out of here. I have something important to do….

The door opens and a woman with shoulder-length blond hair steps into my room, a hesitant smile on her familiar face. When she sees that I am out of bed, her smile blossoms into genuine delight but it makes me uneasy. In an instant, my body tenses and I prepare myself for a verbal sparring match that never comes. Instead, her voice is warm when she says, Miss Lewis! What a pleasure it is to see you up! How are we feeling today?

With a slight frown at her unexpectedly friendly behavior, I start to speak and no sound comes out. Swallowing, I manage to rasp her name, Alison?

Her smile widens and she takes another step forward, emboldened by my recognition. Of course I recognize her – she is my brother’s wife and we hate one another, don’t we? Only, she isn’t acting as if she hates me. Genuine concern fills her eyes and when she speaks, excitement laces her voice, You recognize me! That’s wonderful.

Why wouldn’t I recognize you? I ask, my voice gaining some strength as I remember how to speak. My brow furrows as I try to pick through the hazy memories of my dreams and my life, not knowing which ones are real. You’re married to Michael.

The joy that lit her eyes only moments before fades to be replaced by disappointment and frustration. Oh, my dear, sweet, Rebecca, you don’t remember, do you?

My scowl deepens as I try to think but my thoughts are broken. Slowly, I speak what I believe to be the truth, "I do remember. You’re my sister-in-law."

Her eyes are stark in her pale face as she looks at me with unconcealed sorrow. Closing the distance between us, she takes my hands in hers and sits down on the bed, pulling me down next to her. We were afraid of this but you had been making excellent progress these last few weeks and we had hoped…. her words trail off as she looks defeated for a moment. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she squeezes my hands before continuing in a faltering voice, My dear, I… I don’t know how to say this and no matter how many times I have to remind you it never gets easier.

She looks away, lost in her thoughts. As she tries to figure out how to tell me whatever she has to tell me, I look at the pictures on my dresser. It takes me a moment to realize that while there is a recent picture of me looking like a wraith, there are no recent pictures of Michael. All of the pictures of my family are from thirteen years ago when I was a real girl and they were alive. There are no pictures of Wilson, either. Of course, the one picture I have of Wilson is tucked away in my panties drawer because I never wanted anyone to know about my not-so-secret crush on him. Why do I keep it hidden? It’s not like I live with anyone.

Of course I don’t live with anyone, not really. I have a private room in the mental hospital and Wilson is just a dream. He isn't real.

Crap, am I dreaming now or am I awake?

Miss Lewis… Rebecca, Alison begins, her voice thick with raw emotion. Startled out of my contemplations, I look at her and wonder about the tears glistening in her eyes. She never squandered a tear on me before, even after she heard my sob story of trying to kill myself. You have to believe me when I tell you that we only have your best interests at heart so saying what I am about to say next grieves me.

You’ve never let that stop you before, Al, I snort, the familiar nickname making her smile slightly instead of scowl. That’s so weird. This whole situation is weird.

She clutches both of my hands as she takes a deep breath, You’ve been living here since you were ten years old, Rebecca, ever since….

Ever since the Blight took my parents and my twin brother, I finish, not needing to hear someone else, especially Alison, tell me what I already know. At least I think I know….

She inhales sharply, the sound grating for a thousand reasons, though I can’t think of one. There is no such thing as the Blight, which is a creation in your head, my dear. No, Rebecca, you have to remember what happened, you have to remember that it was a fire that took your family away from you not some mythical plague.

It was the Blight, I whisper with utter conviction, reliving the memory of my daddy coming home and infecting momma, of momma devouring my brother…. Coldness fills me and I start to lose myself in the memory until Alison places her hand on my arm and drags me out of the past.

You’ve been unable to accept the truth and so you have created an entire world in your head, an elaborate world where you’re some kind of superhero and your enemy is Death. You were powerless as a child but in your delusions you have all of the power, she shakes her head and continues to look at me with pity. "I am so sorry, Rebecca, but the world you created isn’t real and in truth, in this world, you are alone. The sooner you accept this, the sooner you can finally heal."

Michael, I breathe, my heart racing in my chest at her words. They’re not true, they can’t be true, because I can’t bear the thought of Michael not being alive.

Rebecca, she says softly, her hands convulsing against mine as she takes another shuddering breath. In your… fantasy, he is your protector, he takes care of you. But he is dead, Rebecca. He gave his life to save you and he died with the rest of your family.

I glance down and see the scars on my wrists, remembering being embraced by the water as I slid the sharp blade along my skin, as I split my flesh open and spilled my blood. Alison notices where my gaze has landed and runs her thumb over the hated blemishes, This was the first time you broke with reality, Rebecca. It was after you woke up from this suicide attempt that you created a new world and lost yourself in it. You became a fighter with incredible strength and unnatural abilities and you created an enemy that is no match for you.

Why are you telling me these lies? I ask softly, a tear slipping down my cheek. Something is wrong with all of this because I’m not crazy… well, I am but not like this. I jerk my hands out of the lying bitch’s grasp and stumble to my feet. Whipping around, I glare at her, my heart pounding furiously in my chest as I try to breathe with lungs that are filled with sorrow. I know you hate me but this… this is just cruel.

Rebecca! she cries out, standing up and reaching for me, sympathy burning in her eyes. I only want you to get better! You can’t do that if you continue to live in a fantasy world of your own making. You have to listen to me, Rebecca. Your very survival depends upon it.

If what you say is true, then I want no part of it! I scream, covering my face with my hands to will her away, unable to accept the possibility that she might not be lying.

But, Rebecca, she says calmly. Her hand is gentle as she lays it upon my shoulder, You want to get better. In your fantasy, you killed yourself.

I freeze at that statement, my guts rebelling as I remember my final battle, the joy and exaltation I had felt when I had survived against impossible odds. No, I wanted to live. It was a Blight….

She chuckles softly, almost reluctantly, "That’s true, Rebecca. A single Blight took you out after you annihilated the rest and saved your brother. You ended the fantasy after saving your brother so you could live and have a measure of peace. It wasn’t the Blight, it was you. You killed Beck, the elite Blight fighter, you killed her. You’re trying to get back to the real world and so you killed your alter ego."

I can’t breathe and my heart is shattering into a million pieces in my chest. Pulling away, I rub the spot over my sternum as I walk over to the window. There are no bars on it to prevent my escape and that worries me; they don’t expect me to escape because there is no place for me to go in this world. The grounds outside my window are immaculate, peaceful, and they are dotted with people in simple white gowns who are being attended to by a nurse or an orderly.

I glance down and notice the simple white gown that I am wearing and swallow thickly. It is exactly like the one the other patients are wearing. Is this reality? Was everything before just a dream? God, that life was so real and I can feel everything I felt in that life: the thrill of the fight, the dread and desire for a amethyst-eyed phantom, the hopelessness of loving Wilson. After a few minutes of silently raging, I look over my shoulder, Why do I hate you?

Her eyes widen in wounded astonishment and I would feel bad if this was my real life and not a fantasy. Rebecca….

You’re married to my brother, Al, I remind her, no longer sure what’s real and what’s not. You have two dogs, Ballsy and Boozer, you hate me….

She closes her eyes and lets out a long, painful sigh, Rebecca, it’s only natural for you to resist the person trying to help you. If you allow yourself to believe me, you’ll be giving up your fantasy, you’ll be giving up Michael. Of course you hate me.

I frown and return my attention to the scenery outside my window. The sun is shining but it isn’t too hot and there are a few dark clouds in the sky but it isn’t going to rain. The birds are chattering away, their peeps and whistles agonizingly joyous compared to the bleakness within me. Could Alison be telling me the truth? Have the last thirteen years been an elaborate illusion, created by me to hide from this stark and cruel reality?

Reluctantly, I bring my fingers up to my throat, not knowing what I hope to feel, panicking a little when I feel nothing. Ignoring the rising alarm, I look sideways at the mirror that hangs over my dresser. Wide, green eyes stare back at me from a pale face and I can imagine the