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Illutions of reality
Elias Thorn ¡¡

Elias Thorn ¡¡

The last time I stopped to fill my car, I almost got caught. I was already a nationwide news, and Haven was still 80 miles away.

This time, I knew the drill. Use the handkerchief as a mask to fill gas, buy the necessities as fast as possible, and get the fuck out of there before the cashier figures out who I am.

I tied the handkerchief around my face, feeling like I was digging my own grave. It wasn’t easy, but I managed. Everything went well until the cashier decided to get cute. “You look like a wannabe Batman,” he said, smirking.

I felt a sudden, violent urge to slaughter the piece of shit right there. But I bit it back. Good thing I knew a thing or two about amger control.

As I headed back to the car, I nearly laughed out loud when I saw someone who had an even worse disguise. The guy looked like a wannabe cowboy, with a ridiculous black cape flapping behind him. I barely made it to my car, trying to stifle my laughter.

My driving skills weren't the best—yesterday was the first time I’d ever driven, with the help of a YouTube fucking tutorial. Too bad I had to ditch the damn phone.

I got in the car and started toward the infamous cemetery in the middle of the forest. Whoever thought it was a good idea to build an entire cemetery in the middle of nowhere deserved an award, shoved up their ass.

I didn’t have any other options. The bodies in my trunk needed to be taken care of, and it felt better to give them a proper burial instead of leaving them to rot in the house. Not that it mattered—the cameras in the house had already captured my “good deeds.”

I could’ve used my dad’s Lamborghini, but its trunk was too small to fit two whole ass bodies. Imagine trying to squeeze them in there.

For most of the drive, I wasn’t even sure if I was going the right way. The road was empty, and the trees closed in around me like a suffocating blanket.

But the feeling of victory when you finally see the destination hits different. I knew I was on the right road when I saw the graveyard.

I left the car and walked into the cemetery to make sure no one else was around. I wanted no more blood on my hands. The place was eerily quiet, with only the rustling of leaves to break the silence.

After checking every corner of the graveyard, I grabbed the shovel from my car and searched for the perfect spot to seal their fate. I found an empty patch on the far left side.

The entire graveyard was overgrown with trees. I wasn’t sure if graveyards were supposed to look like this—it was my first time inside one. Everything I knew about cemeteries came from old cartoons and horror movies.

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I started digging. In movies, they make it look easy, but with a shovel in hand, it felt impossible to dig a six-foot hole. After 20 minutes, I’d only managed a few inches. It was going to take me hours.

I could’ve just thrown the bodies in the forest and been done with it. But I kept digging.

One moment, I was digging, and the next, I was biting the dust. A hand pressed my face into the ground, a knee dug into my back, and another hand gripped my struggling leg. I tried to look up, but whoever it was, they were stronger than me.

“You have the right to remain silent.”

“You have the right to suck my asshole, motherfucker,” I spat, my voice muffled by the dirt.

“The investigating agency will be throwing parties when they hear whose head I have in my hands. Especially Vermilion,” the man said, his voice deep and taunting."back there in the gas station i wasn't sure if you were the person i was looking for with that hankerchief but guess following you was the best thing i could've done."

“Come on, put on those fucking handcuffs on, you stupid cowboy,” I said, trying to twist free. He pressed me harder into the dirt.

“I’d love to, but unfortunately, I’m off duty right now and don’t have my gear with me, so no handcuffs for you, you cunt. By the way, the name’s Godric Hawke. You should probably know the name of the person who’s about to send your sorry ass to prison.”

He pulled out a rope and tied my hands, forcing me to stand up. “Trust me, detective, you’ll pay for this.”

“No, you’re wrong. The agency will pay me for this,” he laughed, tightening the rope around my wrists.

We walked toward the exit of the cemetery. I had one plan in mind, and if it failed, I was done for. I struggled weakly, making sure he felt my resistance but not enough to raise his suspicion.

By the time we reached his car, he was completely convinced I was a weak, naïve fool. “I wonder how someone like you managed to kill your parents,” he said as we reached the car. “You’re weak, stupid, and to top it all of pathetic."

I saw my chance and shoved him with my elbow. He stumbled, and I kicked him in the head. Once. Twice.

He caught my leg and threw me aside, but his face was already a mess, covered in blood, his nose bleeding profusely.

“Look at what you’ve done, you little piece of shit,” he growled, trying to stand. I got to my feet and headbutted him as hard as I could.

He wasn’t completely unconscious, but he was out of it. I ran to the side of the road and started rubbing my hands against a tree, trying to break the thin rope.

I hadn’t realized how strong a rope like this could be. It cut into my wrists, making them bleed, but eventually, the rope weakened enough for me to break free.

By the time I was free, Godric was kneeling beside his car, still dazed. I punched him as hard as I could, and he slumped to the ground, finally unconscious.

When Godric woke up, he found himself lying in a shallow wooden grave. I stood over him, grinning with excitement.

“You think burying me alive will end this?” he croaked, barely able to speak

“I wanted to kill you myself and enjoy doing it, but my hands are already red. I doubt they can get any redder than this,” I said, smiling down at him.

“Vermilion will find you,” he muttered, tears streaming down his face. “She’ll find you anywhere in the world, and she’ll make you beg for mercy.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll deal with Vermilion or whatever if she comes after me. And as for you…” I put the wooden cover over the grave. “Sleep tight.”

I spent four hours digging that grave; there was no way I was digging two more. I threw my parents’ bodies in with Godric and covered the grave with dirt.

As I walked back to my car, dirt covering my clothes, I wondered how long it would take for Godric to suffocate in that shallow grave. It didn’t matter—I knew where I had to go next.