Hostage

Imperfect Illusion

Kimberly's POV

Nightmares were terrible dreams. They could keep you awake for days, haunt you, break you. My nightmare started in a beautifully decorated hall with beautifully dressed men and women in fancy dresses and designer masks. It had started with me stopping to admire a beautiful painting on the wall...and then he walked up to me. We had a long conversation and I had to admit, I was charmed. He seemed like a gentleman and he let me say whatever I wanted to say without interruption and for some reason, I let myself believe it wasn't because he had nothing to say but because he wanted to listen to me. Because he was interested in whatever I had to say. He was interested in me..

It was the same every night. Every single time I closed my eyes to sleep, every single time I tried to think, it was all that came to my mind. It was all I thought about. I remembered how she had walked up to me that night, the only woman in the hall without a mask. I remembered how embarrassed I had been when she had squeezed my cheek. I remembered countless times when she had told me she loved me. I knew how badly she'd wanted to hear that I loved her back, but I had disappointed her over and over and over again. I remembered her smile, I remembered her voice, I remembered her laugh. I remembered wishing I could just turn my back away and walk away from her. I remembered every fight and every argument. I remembered wanting her gone.

But nothing had hurt more than the moment Roxi had said the words 'she's gone, Kim.'
It made no sense. I just didn't understand why she had done what she did. I had done everything she asked of me. I married Keenan Monroe, and she had been paid for it. I had literally tied myself to a man I knew nothing of to make her happy and she had thrown it all away. she abandoned me,again.

I hated her.

I hated her so much, it hurt to think about her. I hated Isabelle for leaving me. She had said we would be together forever, and yet, she had turned her back on me without looking back. I hated Keenan for agreeing to marry me, and I hated Roxi for being so goddamn nice to me and making it impossible to hate her, but most of all, I hated myself.

I hated myself because deep down, I wanted to see her again. I wanted her to walk through the door, and tell me it was just another of her tricks to get away from one of her numerous enemies. I wanted Izzy to call me and tell me that it was just a joke, and that she was sorry. I wanted to wake up one morning and realize that it was all a dream. That I had never met Keenan Monroe, that I had never married him, that it had all been an imperfect illusion.I wanted to go back to the life where I lived as Kimberly Hastings and not Kimberly H. Monroe and as much as I hated to admit it, I wanted my old life back.

I hugged my legs closer to my chest as I felt another tear drop trickle down my cheek. It had been two weeks. Two whole weeks since she died..... Two weeks since I last moved from bed except on frequent occasions when I had to use the bathroom, two weeks since I ate a good meal, two weeks since I had a normal conversation with another living human being or had an actual shower.

I was alone, and terrified and scared.

Scared of whatever answers would await me if I turned on the TV, scared of what other bad news I would hear if I opened the door, scared of who would be on the other line if I picked up the phone or who I would see if I opened the curtains and so I left them closed. I left the phone ringing over and over again until the caller finally got tired and I never answered when Renee came to check up on me on regular basis. Probably to see if I had died yet .

I let my eyes survey the dark room. The room that had amused me so much now seemed dead to me. Dead flowers filled the vase and used tissue paper stayed piled up at a corner of the room beside the bed. I hated the color maroon and I wanted to rip out almost every book cover I saw. I hugged my legs tighter as I cringed towards a darker corner of the room and then drew in deep breaths, trying to control my breathing. I felt two consecutive tears drops roll down my cheeks almost as soon as I felt my back hit the bed and once again, I met my thoughts float into oblivion.

"Do you know who you are, Kimmy?" Mum's voice echoed through my head and the memory in my head was as vivid as ever. I was ten and I had come home crying because some seniors in school had picked on me again for not having a Dad. I sniffed. "You're a Hastings." She squatted in front of me and began to wipe my tears away with the back of her hand. "Hastings fight. Hastings never give up. Hastings always win." She brushed some loose strands of hair away from my face and then smiled. I sniffed.

"But I don't want to fight mum." I was trying to be strong like her but the tears wouldn't stop falling. "There are so many of them and I feel like I've already lost the fight. I'm not strong enough." I wiped my tears away with the back of my hand. She frowned.

"Well, that's why you have me Kimmy." She pouted. "I'd fight for you." She smiled and then pulled me into a big embrace. "No one is going to hurt you as long as I'm around. I promise." She stroked my hair.

It wasn't until I turned sixteen until I realized they were all lies. She had promised no one would hurt me, but she had. Over and over and over again. She had said Hastings don't give up, but she had given up on me over and over again. She said she would fight for me, but she had abandoned me over and over and over again.

She was wrong.

Because if there was anything she had proven to me, it was that Hastings were weak, pathetic cowards who would tell themselves anything to make themselves feel better.

Just like Dad had done when he left us.

Just like she had left me.