I hadn't slept in three days.
Reileen wasn't keeping me up. Not physically. She was calm now—serene in her madness, humming lullabies while curled beside me like a cat.
It was the dreams that kept me awake.
Or the not dreams.
I would blink… and Quell would be there.
Naked. Ethereal. Soft lips, hard eyes.
"You lost me," she whispered. "You chose Reileen."
I'd reach out. Touch her cheek. But her skin would shimmer—and her face would change.
Same lips.
Same eyes.
But now it was Reileen looking at me, giggling.
"Still miss her?" she'd purr.
Then she'd mount me, riding hard, whispering Quell's name with every bounce until I came with a growl of pure confusion.
The next night, it was Ortega.
Tied to a chair.
Bleeding from the thigh.
"Why?" she cried.
"I didn't—"
"She begged," Reileen whispered in my ear. "You remember that part, don't you?"
Then she kissed me.
While Ortega sobbed.
While Anika bled.
While Quell faded.
They all looked like her now.
And worse?
I liked it.
She started wearing their faces.
Not metaphorically.
She'd sleeve-hop between sessions, always one of them. Same voice. Same memories.
"Today I'm Anika," she whispered, rubbing herself against my thigh.
"Say her name," I snapped.
"Anika."
"Her real name."
"She's dead, baby. I'm all that's left."
That night, she brought a mirror into bed.
Propped it beside the headboard.
"Watch us," she said.
"I don't need to."
"Yes, you do."
And she rode me with that mirror reflecting everything.
Her back arched.
My teeth gritted.
And in the glass, I didn't see her.
I saw me.
Empty-eyed.
Grunting. Thrusting.
Used up.
Turned on.
A weapon still firing after the war is long over.
When I came, it felt like dying.
She held me afterward.
"I'm the only one left," she whispered, cradling my face like a mother. "They all fade. But I stay. You know why?"
I didn't speak.
"Because I'm what you really want. The one who never leaves. The one who does what no one else will."
She kissed my eyelids.
"Even if it means bleeding for you."
In the morning, I found another stack in the icebox.
Unmarked.
Just a smiley face drawn in blood.
She'd killed again.
Someone nameless.
Someone who moaned my name.
And now?
Now their soul was just… storage.
I didn't scream.
I just… sighed.
Lit a cigarette.
Sat beside her.
And let her rest her head in my lap like everything was normal.
Because in a way, it was.
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