Cecilion wanted nothing more than to fast-forward through time—to skip the agony, the guilt, the weight pressing on his chest. He wanted to jump to the ending, to the part where they were out of this twisted, soul-strangling nightmare, where the blood had dried and memories blurred into forgettable wisps.
But no. Whatever power ruled this damnation seemed determined to make him crawl through every second. The cruelest part wasn't the images—it was the feelings. Real, raw, visceral emotions that clung to his skin like filth. Every breath, every fleeting warmth or pulse of happiness, made him want to vomit. It felt like betrayal.
Betrayal to the two women—and Casper.
The group had settled by the river not long after 6 PM. The current moved steady and smooth, silvered by the full moon cloaked behind thin clouds. The moon's soft glow kissed the rippling water, revealing an unusually deep section of the river.
