Reborn In a Murderer’s Embrace

"She won't go with you."

At the doorway, Colin stood in his hospital gown, his voice hoarse.

His chest heaved as his burning gaze implored me not to leave with Dexter.

Dexter shot Colin a warning look. "Caleb, let's see how long you can keep up this act!" Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

I pushed past Dexter and planted my feet firmly, my voice low and resolute. "Mr. Fitzgerald, my fate is none of your concern. Never have, never will. I'm not Phoebe, and you don't need to project your guilt onto me. I hope to avoid any further entanglement in the future."

My stance was too clear, and it seemed to wound Dexter deeply.

He looked at me with a complex gaze, a bitter smile on his lips. "So this is what it feels like to be distrusted. Phoebe, are you getting back at me?"

He was tasting the bitterness Phoebe had once endured.

"You're overthinking it," I frowned, finding Dexter quite bothersome.

Perhaps it's just human nature to be prejudiced. No matter what I did in the past, Dexter refused to trust me. Now, whatever Dexter says, I can't bring myself to believe him outright.

"Phoebe..." Dexter's voice was tinged with urgency. "When will you see him for what he really is? He's a devil in disguise. What do I have to say for you to believe me?"

Dexter looked at me as if he wished to bare his soul to me. "Do you really think he's been wandering all these years? Why would Eric help him? How did the Langley family get to where they

are today? If he were really a fool, a vagabond, the Langleys wouldn't be where they are. Samuel, Brendan... they were his doing."

Dexter pointed at Colin, desperately trying to convince me that Colin's current guise was all an act.

My eyes shifted to Colin, who seemed flustered, bowing his head.

"Dexter, I told you, mind your own business." I warned Dexter to stop fixating on Colin.

"Do you trust him that much? Did you ever wonder why you've erased him so thoroughly from your memory? Have you never questioned why you're avoiding him, why you fell for me... if you truly loved him that much?"

Dexter's voice was husky, his hands gripping my shoulders as he tried to make me see his truth. "Phoebe... you can't keep thinking I'm deceiving you just because I hurt you once. I was just conflicted about my own feelings back then. ver intended to use you or hurt you. All along... I was just running away, scared that you loved me only because of your amnesia. I feared the day you would remember."

Dexter believed that his past avoidance was out of respect for me.

"Phoebe, I wouldn't hurt you," he said, desperate to explain.

I stood still, observing Dexter. I didn't trust him, but I knew him.

He probably wasn't lying, but not lying doesn't mean he spoke the truth.

Like he firmly believed one plus one equals three. He wasn't lying, but his answer wasn't the truth either.

I glanced sideways at Colin. He looked at me in panic, standing there barefooted in his haste, his entire being reminiscent of a discarded, broken doll. He was terrified that I would reject him.

Dexter was right about one thing: why did I choose to forget him, wiping him so cleanly from my memory?

To forget is akin to abandonment.

Why did the me from the past abandon Colin?

Colin's eyes reddened as he shook his head at me.

He wouldn't threaten me like Dexter. If it was my decision, he wouldn't oppose it, but he would be heartbroken, shattered alone.

"If I decided to leave, would you stop me?" I asked Colin, my voice a rasp.

Colin looked down, his hands clenched tightly, and after a long pause, shook his head.

He wouldn't.

He would respect all my choices.

How could such a person be as Dexter described, one to imprison me?

I couldn't believe it.

"Would you let me do anything I wanted?" I whispered.

Colin looked at me, shaking his head again. "Just don't die..."

Everything else, he wouldn't stop. Only if I sought death.