Chapter 6: The Illusion

As I was lost in thought, the door creaked open—Rick Monroe arrived.

He stormed in, face like thunder, coat dripping rain onto my clean linoleum floor. He always had a presence—big, gruff, impossible to ignore.

He came in with a dark face, said nothing, and slapped me twice, hard, leaving my head spinning and seeing stars.

The first hit stung, the second made my ears ring. For a second, I tasted blood and remembered being a kid, getting smacked for skipping chores.

"Why are you hitting me?"

My voice broke, somewhere between anger and confusion. Rick had never laid a hand on me before—not like this.

"Heard you want to run?"

His voice was rough, the words a growl. I bristled, but fear kept me from talking back.

"No, no, I just wanted to go see my mentor." My mind was racing.

I scrambled for a lie, hoping it would land. My eyes darted toward the back exit.

"Cut the crap! Your mentor’s been dead for ages!"

The room seemed to tilt, the words echoing louder than they should. My stomach lurched. I clung to the counter, confused.

Rick raised his hand to hit me again, but I grabbed his arm.

The old muscle memory from years of breaking up bar fights kicked in. I squeezed his wrist, desperate to make him stop.

"You’re the one talking nonsense! I was just chatting with my mentor. She’s fine. Are you cursing my mentor because you’re up to no good?"

I spat the words out, voice shaking. Part of me was terrified, part of me furious.

Rick shouted, "See for yourself—you’re in an illusion!"

His words slammed into me. I stared at him, heart thudding. Illusion? What the hell was going on?

I was shocked, steeled myself, bit my tongue, and as the taste of blood filled my mouth, everything before my eyes gradually returned to reality.

The floor felt wrong under my feet—softer, like walking on wet clay. My head spun. The world spun, colors swimming. The metallic taste grounded me. Slowly, the tattoo shop faded away and I saw... tracks?

I was standing on train tracks, a train blaring its horn right in front of me. Rick yanked me off the tracks, and the train roared past.

The thunderous roar of the train rattled my bones. My knees buckled. Rick pulled me onto the gravel, both of us gasping, the wind whipped around us.

"You were possessed. No matter how I pulled, you wouldn’t come down. Even slapping you didn’t work." Rick collapsed on the ground, chest heaving violently.

He sounded scared—truly scared—and that rattled me more than anything. He wiped sweat from his brow, hands shaking as he fished for a cigarette.