Chapter 3 Hallucinating

• Liam Rodriguez was still mopping up blood when he realised he was married to a lunatic. She just cracked someone's head with her gun’s grip.
• The rag in his hand was soaked, turning from white to red. Sera had groaned once, then gone silent again. Her blood had dried across the office floor. He’d wrapped her head and dragged her to the staff infirmary, thankful no one was around after hours.
• Izzy had left his office saying she had ‘business' to do.
• Though, their marriage was nothing more than signatures on paper. The crazy woman had pulled a gun on someone without flinching and called him a puppy like he was some cute accessory.
• And yet, beneath the chaos, Liam couldn't shake the feeling gnawing at his ribs—Why did it feel good to defy Thomas? To choose madness over mediocrity. To finally, finally step out of the leash his father had been tightening for years.
• He was angry and confused. Maybe a bit attracted.
• But mostly? Lost.
• Three hours later, Izzy walked the quiet streets of downtown in a crimson trench coat, heels clicking.
• The city lights washed over her in blurred gold and silver. Thoughts ran in her mind beneath her skin. Liam had signed. And that's just step one of her plan which succeeded.
• And yet—
• She stopped in front of a convenience store. Frozen. Her breath caught like a hook in her throat.
• Across the street, three women exited a club. Laughing loudly, hysterically. One of them looked up.
• And saw her. It was Sera. Her head was now bandaged; although her face was bruised, she managed to cover it up with an excessive amount of makeup.
• But Sera’s eyes went wide like a cornered rabbit as their gazes locked.
• Izzy tilted her head slowly. Smile curling in that gave goosebumps.
• Sera flinched. Whimpered something to her friends. Then hid behind one of them like a child scared of the monster under the bed.
• Izzy smirked to herself. Scaredy cat.
• That was all it took.
• She turned and walked away, leaving Sera to drown in her own paranoia.
• ---
• Later that night, Izzy stood in her apartment. It was sleek, minimal, all marble and matte black. The walls bore no photos. No family portraits hanging on the wall, void of anything that could remind her of her past. But she liked it that way.
• She walked to the bookshelf where she kept her late brother’s things. Only a few: a lighter, an old wristwatch, and the half-burnt suicide note he left behind.
• She hadn’t read it in years. The pain was too much to bear, and it was breaking her.
• But something clawed inside her now, a coldness that didn’t come from outside.
• She picked up the note.
• Her fingers trembled.
• The words were still burnt into her brain.
• To Izzy,
• ‘I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. I'm tired, and I just wanted everything to end.”
• It was dated the week the lawsuit ended. The week they lost everything. She had found the note on his desk right before the landlord had called the police. She held his funeral a week later.
• Her knees hit the floor before she realised she’d collapsed. Her breath came shallow, like her lungs were rejecting air.
• And then, the doorbell rang.
• She stood slowly. Everything inside her screamed.
• She opened the door; she wasn't expecting anyone at the moment, but who would knock on her door at 11pm late at night?
• A man stood there; he was tall, with familiar blue eyes, and his brown hair reached his neck. Izzy found his appearance a bit rough concerning how his beard was a bit unkempt.
• Izzy gave him a tired smile.
• "Hey, sis!” The man said in a hurry.
• It was Ben, her friend who had stayed by her side when everything went down. He was the one who planned with her, who comforted her when she cried about her life. He stood there in his sweatpants, chest heaving rapidly like he just ran a marathon race. His blue eyes scanned her messy look. But what Ben said was more unbelievable.
• “Nolan? That damned brat is alive! I saw him drinking tea at a cafe! What made you think that he was dead?”
• What?! Izzy couldn't believe her ears. She buried Nolan! She saw his body lying limp on the floor; his neck had snapped from his own weight. Who did she bury if it wasn't Nolan?
• “B-but I saw him... didn't I? His neck—his eyes—they were... empty. I saw them close the coffin. I did, right?”
• “Show me—” she continued, gripping Ben's shoulders tight, “Show me! Wh-where is he?!”