Bitter Lies

by Nina Lincoln

  Swinging my glare at him, I raise my brows in warning, but he just grins wickedly. Typical—if it annoys me, he’s all for it, even if it means a reminder of me hanging on the living room wall day in and day out for the next year at the least.

  “Excellent,” Mom claps before waving her hands excitedly.

  Turning away, I hide my frustration. Mom wants me to be who I was before, and Griffin just wants to be an ass, but neither sees what this does to my soul, a shriveled seed trying to grow under the waning light.

  The expectation makes me restless and itchy, which I have to ignore because I have to be better in this, or they will never let me be.

  Left to my own devices, thank fuck, I unpack grimly and settle in, before standing on the porch four hours later as Mom and Dad pull out of the drive. I passed the fucking paintings on the way out here, now displayed for all to see in the fucking living room.

  Once they’re out of view, with hate pulling at my heart for Griff and the naive girl I used to be, I escape down the hall because to top it off, Mom pulled me aside right before they left and said, “Don’t forget to take your meds, dear.”

  “I know, Mom,” I mumbled, flushing when Griff stopped beside her with a curious stare.

  “I know, it’s just, it’s important, you know. I don’t want to think about it happening again…” She trailed off uncomfortably.

  It’s not a secret, at least not from Griffin because he’s been an integral part of our family for years, which apparently means even my fucking mental health isn’t sacred, but imagine being confronted, an intervention if you will, while the boy who broke your heart sits in a fucking wing chair and lies, knowing he doesn’t give a fuck about you.

  Yeah, it’s that painful.

  Thankfully, Griff walked away after that, but I didn’t hear a word she said, and now she’s gone, leaving me here, the last place I want to be.

  Chapter Two

  What the fuck do you know about pain?

  As soon as our parents are gone, the boys commence with pulling out the boxes of alcohol hidden in Max’s room, which by the way is a second master bedroom with an attached bath, I note with a snarl.

  “Jealous?” Griff says with a smirk because although he spends most of his time ignoring my existence, he also enjoys baiting me when the occasion presents itself.

  Although I’ve come to hate the vitriol, I still feel the same ache in my stomach when he curls that damn lip, though, and I turn away in frustration.

  “Aw, H, don’t be a bitch. You’ll be glad for it when we have pussy over and you don’t have to meet up with them in the bathroom,” Max sneers.

  Ignoring the pulse of pain in my chest at the thought of Griff with pussy, other than my own anyway, I say acidly, “Don’t be crude. Besides, what if I have a guest over?”

  Max laughs rudely in my face. “Why don’t you worry about your little blue pills. I hardly think you can handle that and dick right now.”

  He saunters away before I can reply, and I stare after him sadly, disheartened by his cruel words.

  Somewhere along the way, I not only lost Griff but my brother too, and it’s like walking around missing a limb because where once Max and I were inseparable, now he stares at me like I’m an annoying stranger.

  But I don’t know what to do about any of it. Doesn’t he see I’m as lost as he is?

  “No dick,” Griff says, reminding me he’s still looming over me.

  “What?” I ask, turning to look into his beautiful hazel eyes, the pretty peepers more green than brown as he looks me over with a frown.

  “I said, no dick.”

  Raising my brows incredulously, I say, “Let me get this straight…you can have chicks here, but I can’t have a guy?”

  “Yep.” He smirks, but his eyes are hard in warning as he walks away.

  Let’s be clear, I’m not exactly on the lookout for a one-night stand but fuck me if the hypocrisy doesn’t annoy me. Fucker.

  Locking myself in my room, I collapse to the bed and stare at the ceiling because this is sure to be a fuck show of epic proportions.

  ∞∞∞

  The bass thump thump thump of the music crawls through my brain as I try to sleep, tossing and turning with visions of Griff with some big-titted brunette with perfect silky hair and thick thighs running through my mind.

  In high school, her name was Marissa Ross, and she hated me passionately. Why, I don’t know for sure, but in my many moments of torturous speculation, the only conclusion I came to was that she was jealous of the friendship Griff and I had before, but by the time they were hot and heavy, that relationship was long since dead.

  And still, she treated me cruelly, while Griff and even Max watched on indifferently.

  You’d think after four years of being iced out, largely ignored, or treated brutally, I’d have gotten over it, but what you have to understand is those boys were my whole life, and when they moved on, they had each other.

  I had no one.

  I was the weird loner in school with crazy dyed hair, heavy goth makeup, and no friends, and it’s where I found my passion for painting and where it all died a violent death.

  College is supposed to be about reinventing yourself, but how the fuck can I do that when I’ve got my past sitting across from me eating cereal every day?

  By 2:00 a.m., I’m crawling out of my skin because sleep is already hard to come by, and this only adds to my issues. Finally, the sounds of the party die down, and I turn over on my side with a sigh of relief, my eyes fluttering closed in exhaustion.

  Only to pop back open when the distinct sound of moaning comes through my wall, the very same wall that connects my room to Griffin’s. With a fierce longing I didn’t know still lived inside of me, I clench my jaw and bury my head beneath my pillow, but the sounds only grow louder until their whole fucking bed must be vibrating because the thump thump thump is making my own damn headboard shake.

  Sitting up in my bed, I growl with frustration, slamming my feet against the headboard roughly, and the sound quiets for about ten seconds before the moaning turns into cries, and I swear Griff is fucking her against the wall just to piss me off.

  I pull on my sweats with a frustrated huff and leave the room, but not before unlocking the dead bolt Griff installed. Maybe I was bitter about my mom’s constant need to hover protectively over me, but I was grateful when the masses started piling in and panic clenched my heart in an icy-cold fist.

  I guess the doctors were wrong when they deemed me healthy because the minute I was faced with my greatest fear, I hid behind the walls my mom carefully constructed for me.

  The house is a mess, with beer bottles, food, and garbage strewn from one corner to the other and I sneer as I pass because I’m not going anywhere near the cleanup.

  Bypassing it all and a few stragglers passed out on the couches, I let myself out the back door and wander into the yard.

  The pool light still glows a deep blue, making the small space light up romantically, if you can call a kegger romantic anyway. Tiki torches, now muted, line the edges of the space, the acrid smell of oil still burning the air, but it’s blissfully peaceful out here.

  Grabbing a lounger, I pull it over to the tiny stretch of lawn spared from the pool and drop onto it, staring at the sky.

  The stars twinkle above me brightly, soothing the inner beast pacing below the surface, and for the first time in hours, I relax, allowing the thoughts racing through my brain to rest.

  Once upon a time, the boys and I would lie beneath these same stars and make wishes with childlike innocence, not understanding that even when your wish comes true, it’s not always what you bargain for.

  ∞∞∞

  “Wake up.”

  With a gasp, I sit up rapidly, my heart beating out of my chest, as the residual dream that haunts me, no matter the fucking therapy or medication it would seem, fades from my consciousness.

  “Huh?” I mutter through dry lips, staring stupidly at Griff standing
over me.

  He’s frowning as he looks me over quickly before turning his head. “What are you doing out here? Go sleep in your bed.”

  Glancing around, I shiver, reminded of my desperate escape the night before, and stand dourly, praying he doesn’t notice the way my nipples pebbled under his dark stare.

  Of course, he’s standing before me shirtless, his abdominal muscles practically singing they’re so fucking beautiful, but I refuse to take a peek, even if it takes a tremendous force of will.

  Griffin Hathaway is beautiful, and he knows it.

  His mouth quirks up at my silence, and he scratches his pec before running his hand over his chest. I frown, hating that he can still read me so well when I can no longer see behind the mask.

  That while my body liquefies at the sight because even though he’s teasing me, I still want a taste, and it’s this that tortures me.

  What does he see when he looks at me? The girl I used to be? The one he kissed so softly while he gazed into my eyes?

  “Baby? Do you have any creamer?”

  Griffin’s brows twitch as I swing my head toward the door, my mouth souring at the woman standing there because she’s clearly his fuck buddy from the night before. She’s wearing nothing but a shirt, his shirt, her long—you guessed it—dark hair cascading over her giant tits easily visible beneath the thin material.

  “Yeah, be in, in a sec,” he says, his growly tone sending shivers down my spine.

  “Okay. Um, who’s she?”

  Griff looks me over with a moody stare, his mouth curling in a frown before he turns away. “No one.”

  Dick.

  “Fuck off,” I say, stomping my foot when I hear him chuckle.

  Apparently, when he looks at me, he doesn’t see anything at all.

  Stalking after him, petulantly, I pause in the threshold of the kitchen where they’re standing and smile evilly before raising my eyebrows suggestively and saying saucily, “I’m his roommate and his first kiss.”

  Griffin raises an amused brow, but I see the irritation behind his eyes, and with a small thrill, I think maybe I can still read him after all.

  With my job done, although as far as payback, it was pretty pathetic, I escape into the bathroom with a sigh because although being a little bitch gave me a moment of twisted pleasure, my heart still hurts over his casual dismissal.

  I’ve pined after this boy turned man for years, and for what? I’m clinging to something that can never be, and it’s not a pretty sight.

  When will I ever move past him? Never if I have to see him every fucking day and once again, I curse my mom for trying to look out for me, vowing to blame it all on her if I end up back in crazy town.

  ∞∞∞

  Thankfully, Sunday is quiet, with the boys gone doing god knows what. Griffin had someone come in and clean the house, to my relief, because I had zero intention of participating in that damn task.

  I know football is vital to Griff, so he’s probably training with his team, lifting weights, or something else equally manly. He’s talked about playing pro ball since I met him, and in this his goal has never changed.

  Back then, it was all he could talk about, and I was charmed by his passion if a little jealous. I mean, I couldn’t see past the thought of an exam, much less what I wanted to be when I grew up.

  By senior year of high school, Max, who was held back in the second grade and graduated with Griffin and me, lost the passion and pursued sex and fun instead. I don’t know if it bothered him because by then we were long past sharing our feelings.

  The one time I tried to ask, he shut me down so quickly I escaped the situation with a burning feeling in my chest. No matter how I tried to reach him, thinking we could have a relationship despite Griffin, I was rebuffed. Because it would seem whatever I had done to Griff extended to my brother, too.

  This year, I’m sure our first on our own is Max’s idea of freedom, which means there may be a lot of parties in my future.

  I spend the day in my room preparing for my classes, only emerging for a brisk walk where I glance around paranoid the entire time and get more of a workout from my panicked breathing than anything else. Still, I’ve chosen my course, and I refuse to lie down and die, so here I am, pushing myself once again.

  It’s a complete mindfuck, but I don’t want to be a recluse while I long for the safety of my room with every step I take away from it.

  Is this my life? Fuck, how did I get here?

  Stupid question because I made the ultimate mistake in a moment of pain-filled weakness and ruined everything. Ironic considering, I wanted a way out of my life because that old life is gone, yet here I am, trapped with the same fucking characters.

  Before all that, I was headed to a prestigious art school to hone my craft and make a career out of my passion. Now I’m at State, grimly pursuing a business degree because it’s the sensible thing to do.

  Yes, I know I didn’t die, and I still have a gift, and I should be fighting through the trauma—my therapist’s words, not mine—because it’s cathartic or some shit. But when I sit before a blank canvas, I can’t see anything, and I’m terrified because painting was my identity, and if I don’t have that, who the fuck am I?

  Out of the ashes of my lost friendship with Griff, art was the only piece of me that hadn’t formed in the wake of our relationship, and I clung to it as my lifeline. Now even that is erased, and I’m left with nothing to hold on to, creating a void in my world that is now filled with fucking nothing.

  When I finally emerge the following morning, the boys are at the table murmuring between each other as they eat breakfast. The familiarity makes my heart clench as I relive the many times, we greeted a weekend morning together at a similar table.

  Ignoring them, I open up the refrigerator and check out the food situation, stiffening when Max says behind me, “You didn’t eat yesterday.”

  Rigidly, I turn to him with a raised brow, but he ignores me and continues. “I’m not your fucking keeper. Maybe you can figure out how to take care of yourself?”

  Griff sits with his back to me, his head hung over his bowl, but obviously, he can hear the conversation, and once again, I’m resentful.

  “I didn’t ask you to be that,” I mutter.

  Shoving back from the table, Max grabs his bowl and tosses it in the sink before turning to me with a wicked frown. “No, but our fucking mother did. Maybe you should stop being so fucking selfish, Halsey. It’s not all about fucking you.”

  “Fuck off! I’ve never said anything is about me!” I exclaim, slamming my hands on my hips.

  “Yeah? Where did we spend our senior vacation? In the Bahamas? Oh, that’s right, we didn’t go because Halsey had a fucking meltdown.”

  “I didn’t ask them to keep you home.” The familiar flush of shame heats my cheeks as he continues.

  “Right, because they were going to let me leave the country while you laid in your own stink for five days and refused to speak or eat! I’m tired of your shit, Halsey. Now grab your stuff so I can drop you off at the clinic before my class.”

  One of my discharge stipulations is that I follow up with a therapist here at the school. Not only that, but I had to sign a contract promising I wouldn’t hurt myself, and much like everything else I have no control of, an appointment was set up before I even got here.

  “I can take myself,” I insist.

  But he just snorts. “Get your shit and let’s go.”

  Watching him go, I can’t decide whether to stalk after him and tell him off or acquiesce, but either way will end the same. Max doesn’t see me anymore, and I’m starting to wonder if he ever did.

  Chapter Three

  Pride kills.

  Before we came here, I dyed the top half of my blonde hair a deep purple color and the layers beneath a cool gray hue. At the time, I was trying to fix what couldn’t be mended, and now I don’t care for it so much.

  It’s pretty, accentuating my blue eyes, but it’s another chara
de I’ve been perpetuating for too long. The truth is I don’t know who I am, and I don’t know how to find it, which may be why Max and Griffin don’t truly see me because there’s nothing there to find.

  I’m lost, and as I stare at my reflection, I can’t help but wonder if I ever truly had an identity. Before Griff, I was Max’s sister, and when he came along, he became my world. So much so that when it was ripped away, I was lost.

  Perhaps this is why I crashed and burned because there was nothing holding me down.

  With a sigh, I pull my hair into a messy bun, don some slouchy sweats and a T-shirt, and grab my bag. This is another transformation for me because I no longer care to be the loner goth girl with dark makeup and curled hair. Nope, I just don’t have the energy.

  Max is waiting impatiently for me by the door and exits as soon as I appear, stalking to the car aggressively. Trudging after him stonily, I’m caught by surprise when Griff stops me at the door with a banana and granola bar in his outstretched hand.

  But before I can get any wild ideas, like he might care, he smiles coldly. “Wouldn’t want your mom to worry.”

  I pull my lips back in a grotesque smile, grab the proffered items without comment, and stuff them in my bag before Max can see because he’ll only give me grief about this, too.

  The ride is stonily silent, and I quietly brood as he drives. Max received a used car for his graduation gift; it’s not fancy, but it’s freedom. The caveat was that he had to chauffeur me around in it. I received a check for five thousand dollars, which I only have access to if I ask. I’m assuming my parents are worried if I have a car, I’ll drive off a cliff in it because no matter how many times I’ve tried to explain I’m not suicidal, no one believes me.

  I didn’t lie in bed for five days, practically catatonic, because I wanted to die. I didn’t even plan it. I just got stuck and couldn’t find my way out of the darkness but try telling that to your terrified parents.

  Instead, Max has another reason to hate me as he drops me off without a word at the clinic, and I’m trusted with basically nothing. The irony is I feel like I’m being punished when fuck if I haven’t been punished enough.