𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 | billy hargrove

TWENTY-FOUR

"Maybe," he agreed, "but not for you."

Diana looked at him like every star existed in his baby blue eyes.

When they first started dating, it used to send shivers down his spine and scare him endlessly because no one had ever looked at him like that before. He was terrified to lose her and dreaded the day that it all disappeared.

Today was that day.

Peace was never a friend to him, and the loving look on Diana's face morphed into one of disgust.

"You should know better," she chided lowly. "I'm just going to leave. Like your mother. Like you're nothing."

At first, Billy didn't understand. His heart fell from his chest and his breath caught in his throat. But then he realized what was happening.

The memory didn't end like that. In reality, they shared a kiss and grabbed hot chocolate from a local diner before resuming their trip to Niagara Falls. This was another one of his mind's tricks— playing the few good memories he had and twisting them into something sinister.

His mind chanted. Not again, not again, not again.

Ever since that fateful night, his body had not been his own. He was trapped inside a prison he didn't understand, forced to be a puppet in a never-ending nightmare.

He was only called upon when his captor needed more people for his army. His body moved by its own volition. He had no control. And he had done things—unspeakable things—that he would never recover from. He hurt people. He killed people. And he was forced to watch.

The only relief he felt was when he wasn't needed. His consciousness faded in and out of focus, but sometimes a memory would play and he would relive his happy memories. He found solace in them. He found protection for a little while.

At first, the memories happened exactly how he remembered them. But as time progressed, the endings changed. They pulled at his insecurities and ripped at his heartstrings.

Billy didn't know it, but it was his captor's attempt at weakening him. Billy was too strong. He was fighting back, holding onto a saving grace. He was holding onto Diana Blake and that needed to stop.

"Stop," Billy managed to say, pushing her away from him. He couldn't look at her, not when she regarded him as filth.

"I was always going to leave you," Diana continued. "Think about it. I always changed the subject when you asked about California. I always said how much I love New York. You're an idiot for not seeing it. I'm going to leave you and you'll be all alone. It was an easy decision."

"Stop."

"You're not worth staying for. Because the truth is," she paused and waited for him to look at her, "I don't love you. I never did."

"Stop!" He shouted, feeling like a child all over again. Then he turned to the sky, his eyes landing on the spider-like shadow figure that haunted him tirelessly. "Why are you doing this?"

Behind him, his alternate self emerged from the shadows. The other him—his captor—responded simply.

"It will all make sense soon."

DIANA CALLED IN SICK TO WORK THE MINUTE SHE WOKE UP. The thought of having to put on a fake smile and pretend to be happy in the name of customer service made her so frustrated that she wanted to cry, and there was no way she was going to subject herself to that. She didn't care that her manager was mad at her for it. All she wanted to do was be alone and feel sorry for herself.