Believing Lies

by Elizabeth, Anne

  But then wouldn’t Luke have told the police or me?

  Luke and I made it to the house, and I noticed Mom’s car sitting in the driveway. I looked up to see the bright red door that I’ve walked through so many times.

  I was wandering outside of the house. I was probably five or six, maybe younger. Mom was busy finding Henry an outfit to wear. We were going to go to my grandparents’ house, but I didn’t want to go. So, while Mom was distracted with Henry and Dad was watching a game, I snuck out the door. I walked a few streets down; cars passed me by without another thought. I noticed this kid sitting on his lawn with a red door behind him. He was holding a yellow truck and was moving it through the grass. I ran up to him and watched him play.

  I realized that he looked a lot like the kids I stole toys from at school. I thought I could steal his, and he would cry. I wanted to make him cry. I snatched the truck from his hands, and that’s when he looked up at me.

  I was expecting tears, screaming, and even him fighting back. But he just smiled and let me take it.

  “That’s okay,” he said. “I can share.”

  I was taken aback. I wanted to see him cry. I wanted to make him cry and beg for his toy back. But he didn’t. I grinned and sat down. I started playing with it, and he watched me, still smiling. After a few minutes, he jumped up, gasping.

  “I got this new toy, and I think you would like it a lot. Come on!” He raced toward his door, and I followed suit. The first time I walked through that door.

  I opened the door, seeing that it was unlocked. Luke and I walked in; Mom and Ms. Walter were at the table drinking out of their mugs.

  “Hey, hun,” Mom said, placing her mug down and hugging me. She gave Luke one too before going back to her seat. Ms. Walter waved at us before speaking.

  “Forgive me; my feet are so sore. I’ll give you a hug later, boys.”

  I nodded, knowing that she’s a waitress and is on her feet all day. Nick used to massage her feet to help ease the pain.

  I wonder what she does now.

  She told us that we can go through Nick’s room for anything that is ours or if we wanted anything.

  “Wait.” I hesitated. “Are you getting rid of his stuff?”

  She gave me a faint smile, nodding. “I can’t keep it all. I’ll get some things, but that’s still his room. I don’t need all of the gadgets he had.”

  I could tell she was having a difficult time talking about him, so I just nodded. Luke and I walked down the hall, passing the game room they had.

  Game room is a bit too much of a stretch. They had no pool table or arcade games. It was a room filled with board games and cards and a table in the center to play on. There was a couch behind it with stains from soda and pizza.

  “You cheated!” Nick laughed. We were about nine at the time, and I was invited over for a game night. Nick pointed a finger in my face, accusing me of taking Monopoly money. I did cheat, but I wasn’t going to let him call me a liar.

  “I did not!” I defended myself, sticking my nose up in the air. Ms. Walter was giggling from the couch, drinking her soda to hide her laughter. Nick crossed his arms and started screeching again.

  “Then how did you have all that money?”

  “You landed on my property like five times!”

  Nick shook his head. “It wasn’t worth that much!”

  Ms. Walter grabbed another slice of pizza from the box, still laughing at the fact that we were arguing. “I don’t know, Nick; you did land on it a few times.”

  I beamed at Ms. Walter, who winked at me. Nick gaped at his mother for betraying him. He took his hands and acted as if a sword went through his body, and he fell to the floor, throwing his hands into the air. Ms. Walter snorted at the sight of her son playing dead. I giggled, standing over his body.

  I growled, lunging after him. He rolled to his side, missing my pretend punch. Ms. Walter stood up, clapping her hands together.

  “Boys, boys. No need to fight. Let’s go get ice cream.”

  Nick and I were tangled together, rolling on the floor. We both stopped and grinned before racing out of the room and into the kitchen.

  Luke was ahead of me, standing by the picture frame on the wall. It was a picture of Ms. Walter and Nick at some fair. Nick was grinning from ear to ear, and Ms. Walter had that smile on her face. They had their arms around each other, holding on tightly.

  “It’s just not fair.” Luke choked. I could see tears welling in his eyes, but he pushed them away. One slipped and slid down his face. He quickly wiped it away, and I placed my hand on his shoulder to let him know it was okay.

  The phone.

  Why would Luke have his phone?

  I retracted my touch as if I burned it on the stove. Luke didn’t notice my reaction and continued walking down the hall. My stomach was flipping around as I followed him. Every thought in my head screamed to confront him, but I ignored them as best as I could.

  What if I hallucinated it?

  What if I’m not better and Luke sees me as a crazy person?

  I pushed all feelings and thoughts deep down to my core and tried to keep them there as long as I could. I passed by the bathroom, where Nick and I got ready for our first high school dance.

  “Dude, I’m not getting ready with you in the bathroom,” I complained to Nick. “That’s what chicks do.”

  At this time, I thought saying chicks was so cool. Which made everyone’s eyes roll to the back of their head when I opened my mouth.

  “Come on, it will be fun,” Nick rebutted. “Besides, no one is going to see.”

  I groaned and stepped inside the tiny bathroom. The walls and tiles matched, which made me feel uneasy. The sink was small, with an even smaller mirror hanging over it. The two of us could barely fit in the bathroom. We had to take turns sitting on the toilet while the other got the mirror.

  Nick sat down on the toilet and tried his best to do his hair. He would comb through it, then peek in the mirror, then sit back down to fix it. I told him to go first, so then I was sitting on the toilet while he did his hair.

  “What do you think about me asking Noelle to dance with me tonight?” he asked out of nowhere. I scoffed at him, putting on the shoes that Dad got me. He raised his eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

  “I don’t care,” I replied, truthfully. I really didn’t care. She was just a friend of mine. It didn’t bother me.

  Nick nodded, returning to his mess of hair. He grabbed gel from the counter to make his hair spike up. When he did, he frowned, then just flattened it out. I peeked into the mirror just to straighten my tie. The door slammed open, and our moms were standing there with their phones, blinding us with the flash.

  “Smile!” Mom yelled, snapping pictures of us.

  “You boys look so cute!” Ms. Walter exclaimed, shining the light in our faces.

  Nick and I both yelled, telling them to get out. I closed the door, locking it. Nick laughed and looked back into the mirror.

  “They just love us.”

  “A little too much,” I muttered.

  Luke and I ended up in Nick’s room after what seemed like an hour of us roaming around. His room was thrown around. Clothes everywhere, books on the floor, posters that fell halfway down. No trash from what I could see other than some plastic bottles. I started going through his clothes, seeing if he had any shirts of mine, while Luke went to his bookshelf. I picked up one shirt that belonged to me. It was something that had a band logo on the front. I hadn’t listened to the band in a long time. I held it in my hands, something telling me to put it back down. I sighed and placed it back on the floor.

  “I can’t do it either,” Luke admitted, holding two books. “They’re still his.” He placed them back on the shelf and walked toward me.

  “What should we do?” I asked, kicking some jeans out of the way. It revealed another shirt he borrowed from me. This one was stained badly with what looked like pizza sauce.

  “Why don’t we just clean it,” Luke o
ffered, picking up a magazine. I turned to him, and he continued. “Like make it neater so Ms. Walter doesn’t feel like she has to get rid of anything. That way if we ever did want our things back, we could just grab them.”

  What he said made sense, but the idea of cleaning my dead best friend’s room made me feel sad. I thought of Ms. Walter and how hard she worked and how alone she must have felt in this house without Nick, so I agreed.

  We spent the next two hours cleaning Nick’s room. I started in his closet, hanging up things that fell off hangers and placing things in his drawers. Luke cleaned up his desk and bed, making them look neat. One side of his pillow had a large purple stain, so Luke just flipped it over. We both cleaned up the floor together, throwing things out in his trash can. When we finished, we heard a knock at the door.

  Mom stood there in the doorway and smiled. She walked in, giving both of us a hug. “You guys are so sweet.” After a few moments, we heard a gasp from the hallway.

  We all turned to see Ms. Walter with her hand over her chest. Tears swelled in her eyes, and she looked at us. “You boys did this?”

  We nodded. Luke said, “We didn’t want you to give his things away, so we just tidied it up.”

  Ms. Walter beamed at us, pulling us in for a hug. Luke and I were at her sides, facing each other, while she lay her head on top of ours. Luke stared into my eyes, and for a split second, they changed. Then he smiled.

  What I saw behind his eyes was something I have never seen before. It was quick but not unnoticeable. Fear built inside me as I realized what it was.

  Anger.

  18

  Day Thirty

  I ignored Luke as best as I could. It felt like he did the same because he never reached out to me either. It was as if we both had an unspoken agreement about not talking to each other. I wasn’t sure why he wasn’t trying to speak to me, but I thought it was for the best.

  My days were spent being consumed by varied reasons as to why Luke had Nick’s phone and why he looked angry at his house. Luke was never angry. He was the peaceful, happy kid that always had a smile on his face.

  Was he faking?

  This morning my parents announced that I was going to see a therapist. I tried to resist, but Mom said it was completely necessary.

  “We were thinking about it before,” she admitted, getting ready to take me. “Then Mr. Finn advised us to so that pretty much made us sure that you needed one.”

  “Remind me to thank him.” I rolled my eyes. She huffed and gave me the stare. She eyed my pajamas and pointed to my room without saying a word. I groaned aloud and dragged my feet up the stairs. I quickly changed into sweatpants and a hoodie. My eyes caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

  That damn mirror.

  I stood in the doorway between my room and the bathroom. The sun was burning through the windows, shining onto my white tiles. I walked inside and placed my hands on my counter. I looked into the mirror to find my reflection staring back at me. I observed him, making sure there weren’t any tricks my mind was playing with me. After a few minutes, I realized that the only thing in the mirror was myself.

  Take that, stupid mirror.

  See? I don’t need therapy.

  I walked down the stairs to be met with my impatient mother, standing there rolling her eyes at my outfit. She was dressed in a purple blouse and a black skirt.

  “No scrubs today?” I asked.

  “No,” she muttered, shoving her phone into her pocketbook. “I am taking you to therapy, and that is all I’m doing today.”

  She rushed me into the car, complaining that we were late. The office wasn’t that far from our house, but it felt forever. It felt like bees were swarming in my stomach, making me feel queasy. Mom kept telling me I was going to be fine, but I didn’t believe her.

  We arrived after a few minutes and walked inside. The place was odd for a therapy office. I thought it was going to be dimmed lights and wood-themed, with dark cushioned seats. The couch was bright blue, and there was a magazine stand made of marble. The lighting was quite blinding and seemed brighter than the sunshine outside. I sat down on the couch while Mom met with my therapist. They were in there for about ten minutes, and I passed the time reading a cooking magazine.

  “Kyle?” a deep voice asked. I looked up to be faced with the exact therapist I was expecting to meet. His oval-shaped glasses sat on the bridge of his nose. He was wearing a brown jacket over a beige shirt, paired with some brown trousers. His head was shaved to a buzz cut, and he was wearing suspenders.

  “Yep,” I announced, standing up. “That’s me.”

  And I had such high hopes for this guy.

  He walked me to his office, where I passed Mom, who was leaving. She gave me a quick hug and told me she would be waiting. I walked inside and noticed his office matched the lobby of this place. Everything matched except him. He sat down in his baby-blue-colored chair, and I sat down on the couch.

  “Hello, Kyle,” he stated. “My name is David Collins.” He took out a folder and already started to write things down.

  I didn’t even do anything yet.

  “Hello,” I replied, cautious of what I was saying. I felt the bees sitting in my stomach stinging me with each second that passed by.

  “So, have you done therapy before?” he asked, still writing things down. His pen moved in the same motion on different areas of the paper, which made me wonder what he was writing.

  I shook my head. “No, sir.”

  “Alright, let me walk you through it,” he offered, shutting his folder. This was the first time his eyes were looking at me since we walked through the room, and my gut screamed at me not to trust this guy. “Everything you say is confidential. I will not share it with anyone, not even your parents.”

  That’s good.

  “However,” he stated, “if I feel like you are going to hurt someone or yourself, I have to report it.”

  I nodded, everything making sense. “Got it.”

  “Good.” He smiled, opening his folder back up. “Now, with that being said, have you thought about hurting others or yourself?”

  Is he serious?

  I was waiting for him to laugh and ask me an actual question, but he was staring at me blankly. He was seriously asking me this. I just shook my head. I watched as he wrote it down, scanning the papers before continuing the questionnaire.

  He went through this entire packet of questions that “got to know me better.” After we finished the folder, he placed it to the side and grabbed a notebook. After writing a few things down, he looked up at me and smiled.

  “Now, Kyle, let’s talk about Nick.”

  Nick?

  “How do you know about Nick?” I asked.

  “Your mother informed me about Nick and Max in our brief meeting. She said that’s what she is worried about the most.”

  “There’s nothing to be worried about.”

  He nodded, almost mocking me. The bees had flown away and were replaced with boiling hot lava. I felt my tongue ignite with curse words I wanted to scream at this guy.

  “When was the last time you saw Nick?” he asked.

  I thought about it, and I realized I could tell him the truth; he wouldn’t say anything to anyone. If I left out the actual hurting people part, I would be safe.

  “We were in an argument,” I admitted.

  “About what?”

  “A girl.”

  He wrote this down in his book before asking me to elaborate.

  “He started dating this girl named Noelle,” I explained. “She was my best friend, but I had feelings for her.” His pen clicked. “And that day, she came to me upset about her relationship, saying that she thought Nick was cheating on her.” Pen clicked again. He pushed his glasses up his face and started writing.

  “Did he?” Dr. Collins asked.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know. He claims he didn’t, but I don’t think Noelle would lie.”

  He nodded. “And you and
Nick fought because he cheated on Noelle?”

  I shook my head. “No, we fought because Nick thought I was the one to tell Noelle. When I saw him get so heated, I poked fun at him, which just got him even madder. And he pushed me, which got me mad.”

  His eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to keep up with my story, writing it down. My hands itched to snap that pen in half. After writing for a while, he looked up at me and asked me another question.

  “So, you killed him?”

  My heart jumped out of my chest. I could feel my bones shaking to my core. Shivers were sent down my spine.

  “What?” I spat.

  “I asked when was that—”

  I stood up, not letting him finish. “Don’t lie to me!”

  His eyes widened as I jumped up. He put the notebook down before standing up with me. “Kyle—”

  “No,” I barked at him. “Shut up!”

  It came in flashes. It was as if I blacked out. I only remember bits and pieces of the rest of that session. Glass breaking. Yelling that came from me. Someone was bleeding. The door opening. Bookshelf being knocked over. When it was over, I finally saw the room and the blood on my hands. I was the one doing everything. Dr. Collins stood there with his arms crossed next to my mother, who was wide-eyed at everything. Her eyes landed on mine before turning to Dr. Collins.

  “I’m so sorry. We will pay for everything to be fixed.” She apologized, taking out her checkbook. Dr. Collins nodded, taking the check without hesitation.

  Don’t give him money.

  “I fear Kyle has some anger issues that I cannot resolve,” he started, staring at me. “I believe anger management would be best suited for him. However, I would be fine to see him after he completes it.”

  Blood trickled down my hands, dropping onto the carpet. It was blue, so the red would stain. The pain wasn’t bad; it just stung. I turned my hand to the side to let the blood fall onto the ground.

  “Kyle!” Mom scolded, grabbing my wrists. “Stop that.”

  I held my hand up to stop the blood as she asked. Dr. Collins asked us to stay for a few more minutes so he could talk about my diagnosis.