𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄- 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐃

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. Alana grinned as she wiped blood from the side of her cheek, examining her work. She could admit that Miles was persistent. Most people would have stopped wasting their breath on screaming by now, but Miles was still holding out hope that someone was coming to save him. 

"Do you still not remember me, Miles?" Alana hummed. "I'll give you one more guess," she told him, toying with the knife in her hand. "Perhaps you need a closer look." She took a step closer to him, tilting his chin up with the tip of her knife. Alana looked right into those eyes while managing to wipe all emotion from her face. She should have seen it coming, but she still scoffed when Miles spat in her face. Alana narrowed her eyes as she dug her fingers right into the wounds she'd inflicted, pressing down as hard as she could until he winced. 

"Try again," she demanded, wiping the spit from her brow with the sleeve of her shirt. 

"Fuck you," he snapped, wiggling against his restraints. Alana pressed the knife against his throat and applied pressure, just enough to have him wincing. "Say that again," she demanded, snickering when his boost of confidence went out the window. 

"Just do it," he said quietly. "Why even bother prolonging it? We both know how it's going to end." Miles laughed, tears streaming down his face as he finally realized his fate. "Just fucking kill me already."

"No," Alana said firmly. "If I didn't get mercy, then neither do you."

"I don't even know who the fuck you are!" he reminded her once more. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You do," Alana reminded him. It seemed unfair that Miles got to go on with his life for the last ten years, meanwhile all Alana could do was think about that night. It was always there, following her wherever she went. He didn't get to forget about her. "Come on, Miles. Take a good look at me. Perhaps it'll jog your memory." Miles didn't say anything else as he scanned her face, but there was no sign of recognition there. His gaze lingered on her eyes for a moment, as if he sensed that they were familiar but couldn't quite place it. Alana used her free hand to cover the lower half of her face until just her eyes were visible. 

"No," Miles said, his expression dropping. 

"Oh, yes," Alana grinned. He wasn't looking at her with a confused expression anymore; his face had morphed into pure terror. He knew the reason why she was doing this, and he knew exactly who she was now. Which meant he also knew that she had no intent of stopping. "I suppose I can forgive you for not recognizing me. I have changed a bit in these last few years."

"This isn't possible," he said, shaking his head. He couldn't stop looking at her eyes. They were the one thing about her face she could never quite change. She'd had surgeries on her face after the facial fractures she'd had— ones that he and Corey had given her. "You were dead that night."

"Was I, though?" Alana questioned. "You idiots really should have thought to double check that before you left." Alana shrugged her shoulders, and Miles looked away as if he were trying to recall that night. He was going over every single detail in his head, trying to remember. "Because I am very much alive."

"And Evangeline?" He questioned with a frown on his face. 

"Dead," she stated plainly. "Corey killed her, remember?" For a moment, guilt flashed across his face. Alana didn't have it in him to feel sorry, because he never changed one bit. This was his last attempt at trying to manipulate her. Miles still saw her as the little girl who was infatuated with Corey. He had only had a glimpse of what she was capable of now.