Shattered Illustions

My phone rings again, vibrating insistently in my palm, but I can't bring myself to answer it. My fingers feel stiff, almost frozen. My mind is too clouded, spiraling through the mess of what just transpired between Mrs. Bonfire, Dan, and me.

The silence that stretched between Dan and me was suffocating. His refusal to speak, the weight of something unspoken hanging in the air, Was it guilt? Hesitation? Or something much worse? And then there was Mrs. Bonfire.

She was hiding something, I could see it in the way her eyes flickered, the way she fidgeted with the hem of her dress, her lips pressing into a tight line.

She was confused too, or maybe just unwilling to admit the truth.

Did Dan know?

That thought alone makes my stomach lurch.

I throw my body against the backseat of the car, pressing my head against the cool glass as nausea creeps up my throat.

My mind recoils at the images flashing before me,

memories I can't bear to hold onto, moments I now question with every fiber of my being.

'Did he know?

Did he let those things happen between us despite knowing?

Or did he only realize too late?'

A shiver crawls down my spine. My skin feels tainted. The weight in my chest presses harder, like hands squeezing, suffocating, refusing to let go.

My phone rings again.

Mrs. May.

I manage to swipe the call open with trembling fingers. "Hello," I whisper, my voice barely holding together, cracking at the edges.

There's a pause. Then her sharp, concerned voice fills the line. "What's wrong?"

The simple question unravels me.

"It's Dan," I choke out, his name tasting bitter on my tongue. The tears break free again, hot and relentless, streaming down my face. I barely recognize my own voice,

it's raw, stripped bare, trembling under the weight of everything I can't say.

There's a sharp inhale on the other end. Then Mrs. May's voice, loud and demanding. "What did he do?"

I hear another voice in the background, unfamiliar yet gentle, cutting through the chaos. "Ma'am, are you okay?"

I don't answer. I can't. The words won't form.

"Tell me where you are." Mrs. May's voice hardens, her accent thickening with emotion. "Are you with him?"

I shake my head, even though she can't see me. "I'm on my way home," I manage to whisper. My voice is thin, barely holding together.

The driver must have figured out that I didn't want to talk,

or maybe he realized that even if I tried, I wouldn't be able to form a complete sentence.

Every time I sniffled or let out the smallest whimper, his eyes flickered to the rearview mirror, watching me with cautious concern.

But he didn't say a word. He didn't ask if I was okay. Maybe because he already knew the answer.

I wasn't okay.

I clutched my phone tightly in my lap, staring at the screen without really seeing it. My heart pounded against my ribs, my thoughts a tangled mess of confusion, betrayal, and anger.

I could still hear Mrs. May's voice over the phone, her urgent questioning, the way her words had clawed at me like they were trying to pull something loose from my chest.

I wasn't sure if I was ready for what was waiting for me.

As the car slowed to a stop in front of the house, I saw her.

Mrs. May stood on the front lawn, waiting, her arms crossed, her face unreadable. But she wasn't alone.

Dom was standing beside her.

He clutched his school bag in his hands, his posture casual yet composed, as if he belonged there. His dark eyes flickered toward me, his brows slightly furrowed, like he was trying to read me before I even stepped out of the car.

The sight of him made my blood boil.

What the hell was he doing here?

Rage surged through me, quick and uncontrollable. I threw the car door open, stepping out with more force than necessary.

The door slammed shut behind me, the sound echoing through the quiet street.

Mrs. May took a cautious step forward, her eyes searching mine, but I didn't look at her. I didn't want to.

I stormed toward Dom, my hands clenched into fists at my sides.

"So you knew about all of this?" I shot at him, my voice sharp, my breath unsteady. I scanned his face, searching for even the smallest flicker of guilt, of regret,

of confirmation.

His brows knitted together in confusion. He took a step back, his dark eyes shifting between me and Mrs. May.

"What?" His voice was strained, laced with genuine bewilderment.

I let out a humorless laugh, the sound bitter in my throat.

"You knew Dan was my brother," I spat, my voice rising, no longer caring about the neighbors, no longer caring about anything but the truth.

Mrs. May stiffened beside me, but I barely registered her presence.

Dom's face paled, his lips parting as if to speak,

"What?" he exclaims

I clenched my teeth, my vision blurring with fury.

"You and your cousin are sick,

both of you. Psychos,"

I hissed, my hands shaking. "I gave you a chance to talk the other day, Dom. And you didn't."

My voice cracked. "You let me act like a fool, knowing what you knew. You let it happen."

Dom opened his mouth, then closed it again. His jaw tightened. "Helen, I don't know what you're talking about," he said carefully, his tone measured, too controlled.

He was lying.

I could see it in the way his eyes darted, the way he kept shifting his weight, like he wanted to disappear into the ground.

I took a step closer, my voice dropping to a sharp whisper.

"Who sent you, Dom?"

My chest heaved as I glared up at him. "Was it Dan? His parents? Mrs. Edwina? Tell me!"

Dom remained frozen. He didn't answer.

He couldn't.

Mrs. May stepped forward. Her tone was firm, unwavering. "You should go home, Dom."

Dom hesitated, gripping the strap of his bag tightly. His hand moved into his pocket, pulling out his car keys.

He turned away without a word.

I watched him walk off, his movements stiff, tense.

"Tell them I know now!" I shouted after him. My voice rang through the air, but he didn't turn back.

He didn't even flinch. He just kept walking, like nothing had happened, like nothing had changed.

But everything had changed.

Silence stretched between Mrs. May and me as Dom disappeared down the road.

She turned to face me, her expression cautious, as if she was trying to figure out what to say next.

"Helen, can we go inside?" Her voice was softer now, careful. She took a step toward me.

I lifted my hand, stopping her in her tracks.

I didn't want her near me.

I didn't want her lies.

I didn't want her pretending that everything was fine when it wasn't.

I amazed myself when I turn away and step inside, leaving her standing there in stunned silence.

The door slammed behind me.

"You don't get to do that to me, young lady!" Mrs. May's voice roared through the hallway as she followed me inside.

I turned sharply to face her.

"And why not?" I shot back, my voice raw, shaking.

Mrs. May opened her mouth but didn't speak.

She hesitated.

For the first time since I had known her, she looked… unsure.

"You," I began, my chest rising and falling rapidly, "the Edwards, the Bonfires—you all have wrapped me in a web of lies and pretense." My voice cracked, but I swallowed the lump in my throat.

Mrs. May shook her head. "What are you talking about? We—"

I cut her off.

"Why didn't any of you tell me that Dan was my parents' lost son?" I demanded,

the words slamming into the space between us like a thunderclap.

Mrs. May's lips parted slightly, but no words came.

Instead, her face drained of color.

"How did you come to know that?" she asked, her voice quieter now, laced with something unspoken.

I let out a shaky breath, my eyes burning.

"Stop pretending,

" I whispered. "I know the truth now."

The weight of it all crushed down on me.

'i wasn't a child anymore.'

"Please, I need to know everything," I said, my voice breaking as my knees gave out.

I sank onto the stairs, my hands trembling as silent sobs wracked my body.

"I am not the right person to speak to you about this," Mrs. May finally says, her voice measured, cautious.

I narrow my eyes at her, confusion twisting in my chest.

"You can't or you won't?" I blurt out, my voice sharper than I intended.

She exhales, shifting uncomfortably. "Helen, it's not what you think—"

I don't let her finish.

I push myself up, steadying my shaking legs. I'm done listening to half truths and empty reassurances.

Done being strung along like some clueless child. Without another word, I turn and start making my way up the stairs, each step fueled by anger, betrayal, and exhaustion.

Then she says it.

"Your parents are suing the Bonfires for kidnapping."

I freeze mid-step.

My breath catches.

Slowly, I turn to face her, my heart pounding against my ribs.

"Suing?" I echo, my voice barely above a whisper. The word feels foreign on my tongue, too surreal to be real.

Mrs. May nods solemnly.

My mind reels. 'Where the hell have I been?'

"All of this has been happening,

and I didn't know?" My voice rises, disbelief thick in my throat.

I stare at her, searching her face for any sign that this is some kind of mistake, some misunderstanding.

But it isn't.

And suddenly, I feel like the ground beneath me has been ripped away.