Free Illusions (The Missing #1) by A. M. Irvin Page A

had hardened. “He’ll be cremated, and I’ll spread his ashes somewhere far, far away. But there won’t be a funeral. We can’t afford it. Now that he’s gone we don’t have money for frivolous things.”
    Frivolous things? Saying goodbye to my father was frivolous?
    “You’re horrible!” I had yelled. It was the only time I had ever raised my voice to Mother. It would be the last as well . . .
    Her face had turned molten red just before she slapped me across the face. Even as much as it hurt, I delighted in the contact. It was one of the few times she forced herself to touch me.
    “We’re better off without him!” she screamed.
    Better off? How could she say that?
    I didn’t ask. I wasn’t given time to grieve.
    She locked me away.
    I would spend the rest of my life a prisoner.
    “A prisoner,” I breathed to no one.
    Whoever was keeping me here wasn’t listening to anything I had to say.
    I ran my fingers through my hair. Dried blood, grit, and grime coated my hands.
    “I’m never getting out of here,” I said out loud. It was a scary truth but a truth all the same.
    Spiraling ever downward, I barely registered the thump just on the other side of the wall.
    I dropped my hands to my side and stood completely still. Not moving. Not breathing.
    Only listening.
    Thump.
    Louder than a gunshot in the prolonged silence.
    “Was that real?” I whispered. I couldn’t trust anything anymore. Particularly my senses. And certainly not my perceptions.
    Reality was a slippery slope dropping off into illusions.
    Was the noise an illusion?
    Thump, thump.
    I held in the gasp as I pressed my ear against the charred black wall.
    Not moving.
    Not breathing.
    Only listening.
    Nothing.
    I let out a sob. It had to be real!
    I stayed where I was. I refused to move. I kept listening and listening. But I didn’t hear the thump again.
    My ears began to play tricks on me. I heard noises I knew weren’t there.
    Thumps became tapping. Tapping became footsteps.
    Footsteps eventually became voices.
    “You’re alone, Nora. All alone.”
    “Ugly, ugly Nora Gilbert.”
    “You’re best kept locked away where no one can see you.”
    I knew they weren’t real, but in the solitude, the words became concrete. Bradley spoke in harsh whispers. Dad’s gravely voice became a cacophony of sound.
    Mother hissed and growled her hatred.
    And her voice became the loudest of all. But her words didn’t ring with the element of delusions. They were real, plucked from memories.
    “You can’t force love, Nora! You can’t demand affection! You’re squeezing me to death, and I just want you to let me go!”
    I covered my ears with my hands and started rocking on my feet.
    “Shut up!” I screamed.
    “Stop being stupid, Nora! No one cares what you think about anything.”
    Rosie’s taunts rang like a death knell.
    “No more! Please!”
    I fell to the floor, curling in on myself.
    “Please,” I moaned.
    Thump.
    Then silence.
    Thump, thump.
    No more.
    For just a moment I felt comfort.
    It was fleeting and disappeared into the quiet.

The Past
    Five Months Ago
     
    I didn’t feel like going to school. Mother had dropped me off per usual, but instead of making my way to class, I headed off campus and kept walking.
    I had no real destination in mind. I just knew that sitting in English Lit was the last place I wanted to be.
    Sometimes I liked to avoid real life.
    Bradley would be looking for me. I knew he’d worry when I didn’t show up. But I didn’t care.
    Some days I needed something just for me.
    I kept walking and walking and eventually found myself at the south entrance to Waverly Park. I stopped just under the canopy of dead trees on the border of the green field.
    I hadn’t been to the park since I was a child and only ever with my dad. Mother didn’t like parks. And she certainly didn’t like taking me to the park. She hated to spend time fielding off comments and questions about my disfigured face. She chose isolation and