Believing Lies

by Elizabeth, Anne

  “Now is the best time for it,” Mom argued back. Her voice slightly rising. “He just lost another one of his friends and spent the last three days locked up in his room!”

  “He’s trying to cope!” Dad yelled. “I get that. But about the anger management, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t proud of him for doing what he did.”

  “Proud of him?” Mom snapped.

  Proud of me?

  “A fight?” Dad asked me three years ago. “With whom?”

  Nick was messing with some guys at our school by hiding their clothes after gym class. I told him not to do it, but he was already dead set on doing it. He scattered them around the classrooms and left. The next day when they found out it was Nick, they met him after school to fight him.

  Don’t get me wrong; Nick could hold his own. But three on one wasn’t fair. Nick asked me to just be near in case of something happening. I watched as the three guys almost beat Nick to a pulp before jumping in. At least, the last thing I remembered was seeing Nick on the ground, bleeding, before rage struck my body, and I blacked out. The next thing I know, three guys were on the ground, groaning in pain. Nick was in front of me grinning, and Mr. Finn had ahold of my wrist.

  He called Dad to come get me for fighting. He wanted to talk about suspension, but Dad waved him off, saying he would shoot Mr. Finn an email. He was completely silent on the car ride home until we got to the driveway.

  “Three guys. A year older. Why?” He turned the ignition off.

  “It wasn’t a fair fight,” I complained. “They beat Nick until he was on the ground bleeding! I made things fairer.”

  Dad started to rub the bridge of his nose. “So, you mean to tell me, you took on three older guys and came out of the fight without a scratch on you?”

  I nodded.

  “I’m so proud of you.”

  I ran to my room once I heard footsteps coming in my direction. I jumped onto my bed just in time for Dad to walk in. He opened the door, throwing his hands into his pocket.

  “Hey, kid,” he announced, stepping further into my room. He was swaying back and forth. It had just occurred to me that he hadn’t been in my room too many times. It was almost uncomfortable for him to be standing there.

  “So, I was just talking to your mother about your anger problems,” he told me, putting air quotations around “anger problems.”

  Dad had never been the talking type. He wouldn’t scold you for a long time. Just a firm one-sentence yell, but that was it. Mom was the talker. She would go on and on about what you did was wrong, and you should apologize, and then when you think it’s over, it wasn’t. Five minutes later she would say something else that she probably mentioned earlier but reworded it.

  Dad came over and sat on my bed, looking at his surroundings. It was like watching a puppy go to a new house for the first time. Seemed fine, but fear was written in their eyes.

  “She seems to think it’s a problem, but I think you’re fine,” he admitted. “I’m supposed to be convincing you to work on it because it’s dangerous, but…” He paused, taking the time to show me his teeth in a slight smile.

  “I know you know what you are doing.”

  I don’t.

  I don’t even remember what happened.

  I smiled back, nodding along. He patted my knee before standing up.

  “Oh, and just for future reference, don’t go all macho with your mother down the hall.” He gave me a wink before heading out my door. I sat there, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

  I don’t need to go to anger management.

  I pulled my phone out and called Marie. It rang a few times before she picked up.

  “Hey,” she said. “How are you?”

  “Fine,” I answered her. “Guess what?”

  It was late now; there was no light left outside other than the moon.

  “Are you sure you’re okay? I mean, you kind of wouldn’t leave your room for days, and I was starting to get worried. Like actually worried—”

  “Yes, I’m fine, Mom,” I teased. “Now guess what?”

  It was silent on the other end. I checked my screen to make sure the call was still active, and it was, so I held it back to my ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Call me Mom one more time, and I’ll make you eat your teeth,” Marie threatened.

  There was the Marie I know and love. Believe it or not, that wasn’t the first time she threatened to feed me my teeth.

  “Great, okay, so guess what?”

  “What, Kyle?”

  “I don’t need to do anger management!”

  She went quiet again. I only heard her breathing on the other side. I rolled my eyes at her dramatic pauses.

  “I’m confused,” she said.

  “My mom wanted to put me in anger management, but my dad stood up for me, saying I didn’t need it, so now I don’t need to go.”

  “Why did your mom want to put you in anger management?”

  What’s with all these questions?

  “Because my therapist said I needed it—”

  “What? I thought you said your therapy appointment went well?”

  Crap.

  I groaned, pulling the phone from my face to silently swear. I couldn’t believe I just let that slip.

  If I couldn’t even hide this from Marie, how was I going to convince the police I wasn’t with Nick?

  “It was fine.” I lied. “He just said—”

  “Kyle Andrew Davis!”

  “That’s not my middle name—”

  “I don’t care! Don’t lie to me!”

  I clenched my jaw out of frustration. I wanted to hang up on her; I was so close to doing it too. But knowing Marie, she would have broken into my house and forced it out of me.

  “Okay fine, I might have—”

  I heard the door shut downstairs. There was a bunch of small noises following it. Marie was huffing on the phone, so I had to pull her away from my ear. I looked down the stairs to be faced with darkness.

  “Hang on, Marie, I’ll call you back.”

  “Kyle Andrew Davis, don’t you dare hang up on—”

  I pressed End Call and threw my phone onto the bed. I walked downstairs, turning one dim light on in the bathroom. A smell rose to my nose, making me feel sick. I tasted vomit in the back of my throat, threatening to come up. The smell was as if there was rotting meat with cheap perfume on. I gagged multiple times, walking toward the kitchen.

  I heard thumping coming from Henry’s room. His door was wide open, and I looked inside. At first, I was only met with nothing. Then I was able to make something out in the darkness.

  I watched as a face stared at me, lying at the end of the stairs. His hands were raised behind him. I couldn’t see who it was, but I realized that they were unmoving.

  That’s a dead body.

  Is that Henry?

  I wanted to scream, but no sound came out of my mouth. I fell backward, landing on my back. My feet kicked the door closed. Vomit poured out of my mouth and onto the hardwood floors. I quickly stood up, wiping my face, and ran into Mom’s office. I locked the door behind me and started pacing.

  Call the police!

  My phone isn’t on me.

  As I was being hit with a million thoughts at once, a bone-chilling revelation came to mind.

  Is that Luke trying to kill me?

  Without hesitation, I ran over to Mom’s desk and bent down, looking for the key. I finally found it and unlocked the drawer, grabbing the pistol. I took the safety off and held it in front of me, waiting for someone to walk through the door. I slowly made my way out of the office and down the hallway.

  I felt stupid holding the gun; I had no idea how to use it other than the fact that I had to pull a trigger. I placed my fingers in position, ready to use it. I was shaking so badly; I could’ve pulled it too early.

  I stood in front of Henry’s door, sweating like a pig. I had never been more terrified in my life. Something was murdered
on the other side of the door. I reached for the doorknob when the door slammed open.

  Henry stood there, taken aback at my presence. “What, Kyle?” His eyes narrowed in on the barrel of the gun. He momentarily froze in place, then backed away. “Why do you have a gun?”

  I held it to the ground, confused. “I saw a dead body! It was being dragged down the stairs.”

  Henry looked down his stairs before staring back at me. “My stairs?” I nodded. The gun was shaking violently; I couldn’t control it. Henry grabbed my wrists to stop me from making a mistake. He flipped the safety back on, pushing me away from the stairs.

  “I know what I saw!” I yelled. “I’m not crazy!”

  Henry shushed me, pointing upstairs. I took a few breaths in, trying to relax.

  “Kyle,” Henry said in a calm voice. “I’m going to ask you a question, and I need you to be honest, okay?” I nodded.

  I had never seen this side of Henry before. He normally hated me and never spoke to me like this. I was waiting for some kind of mean remark, but I could hear the concern in his voice.

  He was either scared…

  “Have you taken your medication like you should be?”

  Or he cared.

  I thought about the last time I took my medicine. I couldn’t even remember when I had taken them. Henry took my silence as an answer.

  “Kyle, you can’t do that—”

  “I know.”

  “That’s dangerous! Look what happened; you could’ve shot me because of your hallucinations.”

  “I know!” I whispered, spitting everywhere. “You don’t think I’ve heard this before? I’m so sick of having to take those pills.”

  Henry sighed, coming closer to me. “But it’s for your safety and everyone around you. You thought you saw a dead body tonight, Kyle. Someone could’ve gotten seriously hurt.”

  I nodded, letting him scold me. To be honest, I was happy Henry cared so much. It was most likely because I held him at gunpoint. But it still felt nice to have an older brother again. I hadn’t felt like I had one since Max died. That’s when Henry became more distant and acted like he didn’t care about me.

  “Kyle, I need you to give me the gun now,” Henry said, holding his hand out. He was all scratched up. He wasn’t bleeding, so they weren’t new, but it was strange how they were placed. I looked up at him, and his eyes reminded me of what happened a few nights ago.

  I watched his head snap to the side. He wasn’t smirking any more. His eyes were dark. I watched as he threw the water bottle to the side, the plastic breaking open and spilling water everywhere. Before I knew what was happening, he was standing in front of me with his hand wrapped around my throat. I could feel his grip getting tighter as I lost the ability to breathe. I tried to yell, but his hands were holding my vocal cords. All that came out of me were grunts. I watched as his eyes turned darker and darker. I could feel the color draining from my face. My eyes wanted to pop out of their sockets because of the pressure. Henry just grinned and tightened his grip on me.

  I pried at his hands, trying to get them off me. But they wouldn’t come loose. It felt like we were standing there like that for hours. I even tried kicking him, but I could only land them on his knees, which didn’t affect him. He kept holding on to my throat, making my lungs beg for air.

  I hope I pass out.

  I backed away from him, fear resonating in my body. Henry’s face fell, and he dropped his hand.

  “Kyle, what’s wrong?”

  Don’t trust him.

  I swallowed, looking around the room. Everything was hazy. I felt sick. I tightened my grasp on the gun. Henry tilted his head to the side.

  “Kyle, what’s happening?”

  I shook my head, trying my best to get away from him. I stumbled with the gun, falling onto the barrel. Henry lunged at me, grabbing for it. I couldn’t figure out why, but I wasn’t about to let him take it. I tumbled with him, trying to push the gun out of the way. Henry has longer arms and was able to reach it. He held it in his hands, standing up.

  This is it.

  He’s trying to kill me.

  I sat on the floor in a fetal position, waiting to hear the bullet. Waiting for the pain to come. Henry just stood above me, looking down at me like I was trash. I looked up to meet his eyes, and his expression softened.

  “Did you think I was going to hurt you?”

  23

  Day Forty

  I woke up the next morning with a huge headache, unsure of what the rest of the night consisted of. I came down the stairs to see Henry getting ready for work and making coffee. He wasn’t talking to me, so I figured we went back to ignoring each other. Mom had already left for the day, and Dad was in the living room, grabbing his things to leave. He said goodbye to me and gave me money for an Uber to get to the police station.

  Oh, that’s today.

  I sat at the dining table, unsure of what to do with just Henry and me in the house. He looked at the time, swearing, then started jogging around the house. I watched as he grabbed his keys, coffee, and then he ran to the bathroom. I started going on my phone, about to text Noelle to see what she was up to when something was placed in front of me. I looked up to see Henry walking out the door. Sitting on the table was my medication.

  I guess this is happening now.

  I quickly took my pills, putting the bottle back in the bathroom. I texted Noelle, asking what she was doing before getting ready to go to the police station. I wasn’t sure what to wear, so I googled it. Not very many people had experienced going to the police for questioning, so I just dressed as if I were applying for a job because that was the only thing they had advice for. I wore a button-up with some of Dad’s old khakis. I looked like a Boy Scout, but I figured that was better than my dark jeans and a hoodie covering most of my face.

  I pocketed Dad’s money and just walked to the station. People were staring at me, but not like they normally did. Most would look at me, then grab ahold of their children. Now, people seemed unbothered to walk past me.

  Why do people judge so much?

  I tried to push my nerves away, but they kept clawing at me the closer I got to my destination. I realized that this would be my last time going to the police station if I played my cards right. Unless someone else got murdered.

  The station came into view, and I was ready to bounce. I could see myself turning and running and never coming back. But they would’ve found me. And running now would’ve looked suspicious. I kept walking.

  The same lady was waiting at the desk as before. She smiled when she saw me and pointed in the direction of an officer. The officer had bright red curly hair that was flying everywhere. She was sitting down, typing on a computer. I walked over to her, noticing her nails. The actual nail part was unevenly cut, and lots of skin was pulled from around the finger. She probably bites her nails. She noticed me standing there and pointed to the seat in front of her desk. I sat down, folding my hands in my lap.

  “One second, sweetheart,” she said, not taking her eyes off the screen. “I just have to fill out a report.” The sound of her nails clicking the keys was the only sound in the whole office. Her nails clicked the Enter button before she turned to me, smiling.

  “Now, what can I do for you?”

  “Um, I’m Kyle Davis,” I told her. “I was called here to talk about Nick Walter.”

  She nodded, grabbing a notebook and coming around the desk. She leaned on the edge of it and took a pen from her cup. “We just have a few questions; it won’t take long at all.”

  I nodded, shifting in my seat. It didn’t seem like a proper investigation at all, and yet I felt my nerves taking total control over me.

  Can she tell I’m sweating?

  “When was the last time you saw Nick?”

  “The day before he went missing. We hung out a little bit after school. Then the next day at school.”

  She wrote down everything I was saying. It seemed like word for word.

  “O
kay, and do you know anyone that would have had a reason for Nick being gone?”

  What?

  I shook my head. “No.”

  She nodded, flipping through her notebook. She took a breath in, standing up and walking back around to her desk. She started going through her drawers, searching for something.

  Handcuffs?

  I gulped, looking around the station. A lot of people were there. Some that weren’t policemen too. Some in regular clothes, just talking to people. I couldn’t tell whether they were reporting something or working out of their uniform.

  “Aha!” the officer I was with said, startling me. I jumped a little in my seat, but she didn’t notice. “Found it! Alright, so it says here that a little bit ago, you had an interview with two police officers at Westport Hospital that ended with a public disturbance. Care to explain?”

  Oh god.

  I coughed, trying to buy myself more time. The officer didn’t even seem intimidating. She was smiling at me, waiting politely for an answer.

  “Um, I have anger problems, but I’m seeing a therapist for it and going to anger management classes. I’ve gotten better.”

  It was a complete lie, and I had no way of proving it, but I thought it was worth a try. She had a blank expression on her face, writing it down.

  “Well, I’m glad you are getting yourself help. Takes a real man to realize their problems and try to fix them.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Now, back to the previous question,” she said, sitting down. Her eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head. “Listen, between you and me, this case is a goner.”

  A goner?

  “Unless you can give me something. Anything! We have zero leads, and soon enough, this case will just be trashed.”

  I couldn’t look her in the eye. I stared at the bridge of her nose, which had a slight crease in it. I wanted to confess everything. My whole body was burning with guilt. But I knew how much trouble I would’ve gotten in. I just shook my head.