The Truth Hurts

83 │unmasked

"Gar—" Taylor stutters as she stares at the disfigured man standing in front of her. She shakes her head, unable to process what had just happened, and her eyes quickly gaze back to the lake. Bubbles surface through a darkening cloud of blood, although Marc is no longer able to be seen through the splashing water. "Marc!"

She steps toward the edge of the dock, on the verge of diving in, when—

The tip of the shotgun quickly jams into her chest, stopping her, as Garrett jumps forward. His voice is cold, an acidic twist from the boy that she once knew. "I don't think so."

Still somewhat in denial, she continues to shake her head as she tries to avoid eye contact with him. "Garrett, please... He's going to die!"

Not showing a hint of concern, he looks down at the water rippling below the pier. An eerie smile spreads across his face as he watches the crimson red fading, the blood slowly diluting through the lake. A sight she, too, can't take her eyes off of. Crying, she feels her legs weakening and, as the water steadily grows still, finds herself collapsing to her knees. Silence again fills the air as the bubbles stop surfacing, broken only by the faint sniffling of a devastated Taylor.

Garrett's smile quickly disappears when he catches a glimpse of his own distorted reflection staring back at him through the calm lake. Disgusted, and not just by his monstrous appearance, his eyes shutter closed as his mind wanders to a different place.

"Why..." Taylor continues to stare at the water blankly, her shattered voice interrupting his thoughts.

His eyes peel open as his attention focuses back on her and he instantly recognizes the expressionless look she's wearing on her face. He has seen it on himself countless times—more like every time—he encounters that stranger in the mirror. She has given up. And, in this moment, he oddly couldn't feel less satisfied. If anything, could this foreign feeling rushing through his veins be... possibly... sympathy?

Taking a deep breath, she finally manages to finish her sentence. "Why are you doing this?"

And, just like that, what little compassion he shared for her is now gone.

"Why?" A slab of flaked skin where his right eyebrow once rested lifts up dramatically, his eyes widening as he takes another step toward her. Does he really have to explain himself? Does she really not know what happened?

Was she not fucking there that night?

Taylor quickly stands to her feet, nearly losing her balance on the edge of the dock in the process, and backs up. As she stares at him, watching his face growing red from the sudden rage, she continues to tread backwards at a slow pace. With each step, the wooden planks underneath her feet reassure her that she is getting closer and closer to the shore.

"You guys left me in a burning bus TO DIE!" He screams, hugging the shotgun close to his chest as he peers up at the array of stars overlooking them. He can't help but relive the night, feeling the scars on his skin as they reopen—his flesh slowly dripping from his brittle bones. His voice shifts to a calmer, and oddly more eerie, tone. "You left me..."

"Garrett, we didn't know! We thought—"

"DON'T GIVE ME THAT SHIT!" The barrel of the shotgun quickly finds itself aimed back at Taylor, following Garrett's hateful glare. He follows her steps as they make their way back down the pier. "NO! YOU LEFT ME TO FUCKING DIE!"

"We didn't know." She repeats, trying her best to keep her voice as firm as possible. Although telling the truth has never been her forte, she struggles to explain herself. "We thought... We thought you were dead."