Beautiful Lie

by Leah Holt

  “How could you do this to me?” Water poured from her eyes, and she looked so fragile and young all over again, just like she had that day; when she woke to a world she couldn't remember and faces she had never seen. “How come you never told me?”

  “I couldn't.” My heart broke as I watched the woman I loved crumble and dissolve before me. It hurt, it hurt more than anything I could have imagined.

  “You couldn't. . .” Pausing, her body went limp, arms hanging lifelessly by her sides. “Of course you couldn't, you're too much of a fucking coward to stand up to your father.” Thinning her lips, her chin crooked hard. “I'm glad that what he told you when you were a child still means something today. That says a lot, Birch, really it does. You say you love me, but I'm not even sure you really know what that word means. If you loved me, you would have done the right thing long before now.”

  Wiping her cheeks, Cyprus took in deep long breaths through her nose. She didn't say anything else, she just stared at me, her eyes boring a hole into my heart.

  She was right. I was a fucking coward.

  I could have told her everything so many times, and I chose not to. Not because I didn't want her to know, but because fear kept me from speaking.

  When we were kids, yes, my father was the voice of reason. He wanted a clean slate, he wanted her to never know about what happened so she would willingly stay with us. I hadn't agreed then, and I didn't agree now.

  But as time went on and the years slipped between our fingers, it became something I didn't want to share because of fear. I was afraid of how she would react. I was afraid she wouldn't look at me the same and I wasn't sure I could deal with that.

  It didn't matter. Cyprus found out. What she knew exactly I still wasn't sure, but regardless, she knew more than I had ever spoken out loud to anyone other than my father.

  The fear I felt began to spiral and transform. Panic was setting in and my mind began to race with all the things she could use against us. With just her testimony she could put my father and I away for life.

  “Let me fix this, Cyprus. Let me tell you the truth, all of it.”

  “No,” she barked, cutting the air with her hand. “I don't want anymore lies. I'll find the answers myself, I'll see it in my head and learn it on my own. I don't want to have anymore lies shoved down my throat. I'm done with this shit, Birch. I'm out, I'm not one of you, I never was.”

  With quick steps, Cyprus stormed back towards the house, her arms stiff and rigid as they swung in tandem with her feet. She didn't look back at me, she never turned to give me one last glance. She just walked with purpose.

  In that moment I knew everything just got a whole lot harder.

  I was losing her. You fucking lost her.

  I needed her back. Good luck, you might as well have killed her parents yourself.

  I won't let her go. That's not your choice to make.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cyprus

  I hate him! I hate him!

  I hate. . .

  Hate was a strong word. It wasn't a word that should be tossed around. People say it all the time, but I don't think anyone really stops to think about what it means.

  Hate: Intense hostility and aversion usually deriving from fear, anger, or sense of injury. An extreme dislike or disgust.

  Did I really hate Birch? No.

  I hated how he lied to me. I hated that he had kept such a sensitive secret from me for all these years, knowing that it was all I ever wanted.

  I wanted to know who I was.

  He had been there through my tears, through my countless sobbing rambles as I went on and on about needing to know. He had rubbed my back and held me when I was at my worst. When I couldn't go to school because there was no history to give them, when I couldn't go to a regular doctor because my name and birthday were unknown.

  He stood by me and hugged me, kissing my forehead and whispering sweet nothings into my ear just so I felt special when I thought the world had forgotten about me. When I felt abandoned and unloved, Birch gave me what I craved.

  And all that time he had the key to what I needed.

  How could he do this?!

  Slamming the bedroom door, I threw myself into a rage and started kicking things on the floor. I punched the wall, I stomped a picture of Birch and I on the floor, crunching my heel into the shattered glass.

  My hands were in my hair and my heart was racing, I could barely function. All I wanted to do was break stuff. I wanted to get this all out, destroy everything I could get my hands on just to release the anger that was settling inside my chest.

  I want it all gone! Everything!

  Darting to the bed, I pulled the diary out and held it by the binding, ready to destroy the one thing that had brought all this back. My fingers clutched the worn leather, twisting it back and forth.

  When something fell out from inside. A square piece of paper, folded in half, floated to the ground like a falling leaf. Next to it was a picture, face down, with a handwritten date penned on the back.

  What the hell is this?

  July, two thousand and eleven?

  Bending down, I picked up the paper and photo. Flipping the image over, I stared at it unable to blink.

  It was Birch and I, smiling with our arms around each other and a crumbled sandcastle between us. I remembered the picture, I remembered the day it was taken and how happy I felt at the time.

  We had spent all day building that damn sandcastle, only for it to fall apart right when Valentina snapped the picture. Nick was sitting in the background under the umbrella, laughing his ass off. Birch and I were covered in sand, our cheeks rosy and bright red from staying in the sun all day.

  And that night. . . That was the first night we made love.

  Just thinking about it made my heart hammer inside my chest and my sex throb with shadowed memories of his cock entering me for the first time. His parents had gone out to dinner and movie, and we had the entire house to ourselves.

  We hadn't planned on that being the night, but it turned out to be the greatest night of my life.

  Dropping to the floor, I tucked the picture back in the diary and unfolded the paper. It looked old, like it had been written years before. The white was now tinted a faded yellow, the ink had sweat and bled out around the edges.

  I could never have prepared myself for what was written. Words that had been sealed away and forgotten with my thoughts.

  Dear F,

  I can not give you the answers you are looking for. I can't even begin to understand what this might be like for you. But I want to help. I want to fix it. The man is not as bad as you might think, he's actually a pretty good guy.

  I know you don't see it now, and I know it might be hard for you to ever see it. But I think things are going to work out. At least I hope they will work out, I guess we won't really know until the time comes.

  You know you're right. Your dreams will take you back, you will always have that, even if you don't remember it when you wake up. I promise you that somewhere inside, when your eyes close and you fall asleep, you will see your parents again.

  You were wondering if I was like you, if I was here because he made me. Well, I am like you in a way, I also wasn't given a choice. Except, I'm here because I have to be, not because he took me, but because I was born into this. I wish I could answer all your questions and give you what you want. I'm sorry I can't.

  But I can tell you one thing. I don't know if it will help, but I sit in the right corner because that was where he used to make me sit when I was punished. I guess it's habit and nothing more than that. It's not really my favorite spot, I just go there because I'm used to it.

  I hope one day you get the answers you're looking for. And I hope one day we can really be friends, I'd like that. I want you to trust me, I tried not to lie to you, but somethings aren't for me to say.

  I know you'll probably never read this letter, not if what he wants to do works. All of this will probably just get burned
up, turned into ashes so no one ever sees it. He's out there looking for you now. I'm supposed to go help him after I remove your stuff from this room, but I had to do this first.

  If you do get to read this, I just want you to know that I'm sorry.

  I'm sorry this happened.

  I'm sorry you're scared and confused.

  I'm sorry you lost your parents the way you did.

  I know it's not really my fault, but I also know my father will never say these things to you. You didn't deserve this and none of this was your fault. So don't ever think that you did something wrong, because you didn't.

  I'm also sorry that I read your diary.

  I hope you find peace, F. I hope your life goes on and you get everything you wish for.

  I hope that we meet on the other side and you don't remember us this way. Because there is so much I feel for you that I can't understand.

  All I can do is hope that things will get better for all of us.

  —B

  Dropping the note, my heart slammed inside my chest. He's always loved me, just like I've always loved him. . .

  Chapter Thirteen

  Birch

  I'm not a man.

  Sitting by the pool, I let my feet dangle in the icy cold water. I had so many things I wanted to say to her, but I said none of them.

  Cyprus locked herself away in our room after leaving the woods, refusing to even acknowledge that I was at the door. She wouldn't answer me when I called her name, she didn't yell at me to go away or tell me to go fuck myself.

  I wish she had. That hurt more than any of the cuss words she could have thrown my way. Not hearing her voice, not having her scream at me that I was a dick or an asshole, that I could go fuck myself over and over; that silence was so much harder to take.

  Fuck! Why the hell didn't I make her listen?

  I let her down. . .

  Hanging my head, I cupped my face in my palms and growled to myself. I was so frustrated that I had never once over the years told her the truth.

  I fucking should have, she deserved to know.

  “Did you tell her?” my father asked, forcing me to lift my head.

  “No, she doesn't want to hear it from me or anyone else. She wants to learn it on her own. I just have no fucking clue what she knows already, she won't say shit.”

  “Can you blame her?” Crouching down beside me, he swung his feet around and slipped them into the pool. “She obviously knows enough to know we took everything from her—”

  “You took her everything from her, not me. I helped to save her.”

  “Think of it however you want, but we're both at fault here. I might have done the shit that led us to all of this, but you. . .” Pointing his finger at me, he cocked his head. “You're the one she loves. She could give a shit about me and what I did, but you're the one she trusted the most, you're the one she gave her heart to.”

  My eyes turned to slits, unable to believe that he had the nerve to put any of this on me. I was a damn child when everything happened. I had no say, I had no voice or control in what he decided to do.

  I did as I was told. Period.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean? I helped her, I helped remove the pain. I didn't cause that shit, you did.”

  “It's like this, your mother and I didn't always agree on everything. But no matter what I did, as long as she heard it from me first, eventually she got over it. Cyprus is hurt because you never told her the truth, it doesn't matter what your intentions were; saving her, hurting her—right now, it all looks the same in her eyes.”

  “You told me not to, you're the one who told me to keep my mouth shut. So I did. Who was I supposed to give my loyalty to, you or her?”

  “Birch,” my father said, reaching out and gripping my shoulder. “When you're a child things are different. Yes, I expected you to keep your mouth shut, but you're a grown man now, it's time for you to decide what you tell her and what you don't.” Patting my back, he climbed to his feet. Looking up at him, his eyes were full and tender, with more sincerity than I had ever seen before. “You know what you need to do, you don't need me to tell you anymore.”

  He started walking away, but I stopped him. “Wait,” I said, holding out my hand. “You know you never really told me why before.”

  “Why what?” he asked, keeping his head forward.

  “Why all of this happened, why you did what you did.”

  His eyes peeked at me over his shoulder, his back expanding as he took in a deep breath. There was a pause before he started speaking again, like he was thinking long and hard about how much he wanted me to know.

  “I wanted power. At the time I told myself it was for you and your mother, but it wasn't. It was easier for me to lie to myself back then, but not now, not since your mom was ripped away from me. I was a selfish prick, and it took the death of your mother for me to see it.” Dropping his face into his chest, his voice fell quiet. “I got lost along the way, forgetting who I was fighting for. I didn't know Frank had a daughter, if I did, things would have ended differently. After you were born, I promised your mother I wouldn't ever do that, that I'd never purposefully go out and hunt a man with a family. And I hadn't up until then. It was something I took pride in, the one thing I always weighed when I made decisions in this business. Children need their parents when they're young. But I was too greedy to fucking care in the moment. I didn't stop myself, and I could have. I used him, I used him to feel bigger, to feel like I had all the control. I went looking for a fight, when I didn't really need to. I knew he needed the money more than me, but I didn't care, I wanted what was mine. . .”

  I didn't say a word, I just sat and listened to him talk to me in a way he never had before. My father had always been straight to the point. He was cutthroat, I had seen him kill without questions.

  He never admitted guilt or sorrow, he never owned his mistakes. He always stood by his choices.

  But this, this was him finally speaking the truth. For the first time in his life he was actually speaking from his heart and not from his fucking balls.

  Exhaling, he reached up and scratched his head. “When I saw her crying under that bed, I didn't know what to do. I tried, I did my best to fix her. I fucked up, that's what I did instead. Your mother forgave me, and not because I took care of someone who could destroy us and tear our family apart if he went to the cops, but because I told her what I had done. I promised her I would make it right. . .” Grunting, he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Just don't forget who you're fighting for, Birch, she's worth more than all the pride in the world.”

  I watched him stroll through the yard and into the house, closing the door behind him. I sat stunned, unraveling inside from what he had just said. That was first and only time I had ever heard him say he was wrong, that it was his greedy, power-fueled need that led us here.

  He's right, the man is fucking right.

  Pushing myself up, I crossed the patio and went into the house. My father wasn't one for heartfelt conversation, and I couldn't help but feel like it was my mother speaking through him right then.

  It was like her hand had come down and touched his heart, helping him to guide me in the right direction. I was going to listen to him, I was ready to tell Cyprus everything that had happened from the first moment she entered our home that night.

  If Cyprus chose not to listen, there was nothing I could do. But I could try and help her see, I could try and help her understand. And maybe she would get pissed and hit me and tell me she never wanted to see me or my father again.

  But I had to do the right thing.

  The truth had eaten away at me, it made me harbor this guilt that I had to get off my chest. I was tired of the wall between us, the one I had felt for years and she had just discovered.

  Climbing the stairs, I took them two at a time. My muscles were tense, my heart thudded against my ribs as I tried to put together the words inside my head that I was going to use.

  I wa
nted to make sure that everything I said came out clear and easy to understand. I didn't want to risk her misunderstanding and twisting my words into something they weren't.

  Taking in a deep breath, I knocked on the door. “Cyprus, let me in.” She didn't respond, not that I expected her to. “I'm coming in, we need to talk.”

  Pressing my ear to the door, I tried to listen for any sounds. She was silent.

  “If you're near the door then move, because I'm coming in, even if I have to break it down.” Holding the handle in my hand, I pinned my shoulder to the wood, ready to force my way in.

  Twisting the handle, to my surprise it turned. Pushing it open, I poked my head inside before opening it up all the way. Glancing around, I found Cyprus sitting against the wall with a book in her hands and tears running down her face.

  “Cyprus, you need to hear me out.” Stepping closer, I looked at the book and my heart sank in my chest. “Where did you get that?” I asked, moving slowly towards her. “Where did you find it?”

  How the fuck did she get the diary?

  “The detective gave it to me.” Sniffling, she wiped her eyes. “He said they found it here in the house.”

  “You were never supposed to see that.” Stopping a foot from her, I raked my fingers through my hair. “My father was supposed to get rid of it so you'd never have to know.”

  “But I do know, I know what happened that night.” Tears continued to fall as her shoulders rolled forward. “I remember, Birch.” Flicking her eyes up to mine, her lip trembled as she spoke. “I remember the night he killed my parents.”

  She looked so broken, so lost and sad as her eyes swelled with pain I never wanted her to have.

  “I wanted to tell you—”

  “But you didn't!” screaming, she slammed her fist into the floor. “You knew what he did! You knew who I was! And you didn't tell me!” Gripping the carpet in her fingers, she clawed the fibers as her body began to shake.