Bitter Lies

by Nina Lincoln

  Of course, I know the consequences of my actions. I’m still fucking trying to process them months later.

  “Perhaps,” he says, “but you’re running from the truth, and Hogan isn’t going to give you what you need.”

  “Which is what?”

  “Well, besides the obvious? Orgasms? He can’t erase your past, sweetheart. It’s here to stay.”

  I ignore his words because they’re hurtful, even if misguided. “How do you know he can’t give me orgasms?”

  With a devilish look lighting his eyes, he smirks. “Because your lips don’t open when he touches you.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “It’s simple, sweet. When I fuck you, your lips are open on a sigh, and with him, they’re firmly shut up tight.” He runs a finger down my cheek with an intensity that makes me shiver.

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  Standing, he smiles and raises a brow. “Is it?”

  “You never answered my question.”

  He pauses, the wicked smirk falling from his lips, replaced by a blackness behind his eyes that makes me pause. “Well, sweetheart, it would seem I can’t fucking let you go. By the way, let me know when you’re ready to pop your ass cherry. Frankly, I’m surprised you’re still an anal virgin after the games you’ve been playing. They must not have been doing it right.”

  Dumbfounded, I stare after him, images of him fucking me in the ass riding through me painfully, and weirdly, the thought isn’t reprehensible, which means I genuinely am fucked in the head.

  But the implications leave me cold because he’s now implied group sex on more than one occasion, and I know, even if I’ve been fighting the reality, that he thinks I willingly fucked more than one guy at once.

  This is my truth, and I feel violated and fucking enraged that Jason thought to share the dirty deed because the choice has been plucked from my hands once more. On the wings of these thoughts is a warmth I refuse to analyze, because Griffin may not be able to resist this or me or whatever, but it doesn’t mean much beyond he’s a sick fucker…just like me.

  Making my way back inside, I’m not surprised, but I am chagrined to find my date sucking face with some chick, and with a sigh to the universe, I resign myself to walking home.

  I don’t see Griffin, which is just as well as I make my way grimly to the sidewalk, unsurprised when he intercepts me in his SUV. Without comment, I get inside, annoyed by his victorious smirk as I stare out the window.

  The stars shine bright overhead, and my thoughts tumble back in time to when life was so much simpler. Unable to ignore the sweet memories, I say, “Remember when we used to stargaze? It was always so beautiful in your backyard, with the sky lit up so bright.”

  Griffin grunts and sadly I smile at my reflection because maybe those were just dreams, I made up in my head. Perhaps it all was.

  “The last time I stared at the stars, I fucked Mandy Watkins in the tree house.”

  Although he doesn’t sound victorious, only strangely tired, I turn to him sourly, my look surely fucking incredulous as he studiously watches the road. “I hope she gave you crabs.”

  “Oh sweet, she gave me a blowjob, and man can she suck dick,” he says with a chuckle.

  Mandy was my only friend until she betrayed me by fucking Griff, and after, well, I couldn’t look her in the eye without seeing his face.

  “Hm, I heard she’s gained fifty pounds and is fucking our old gym teacher now.” It’s speculation and I know I’m being spiteful, but it’s my last damn refuge and I cling to it with nowhere else to turn.

  “Jealous?”

  “Oh, Griffin,” I sigh, “What’s there to be jealous of? Apparently, I was fucking douches like Bobby Moore, remember?”

  The victory is hollow when he clenches the wheel, his knuckles white and I hide a grim smile. “Another lie?”

  “Perhaps.” I shrug, leaving him to figure out which part was the truth, and I hope it eats at him the same way visions of him with Mandy do me. Fucker.

  The party is still going strong when we arrive, and to my displeasure, I find Jason standing in the front yard with my brother. He’s like a fucking cockroach, and there’s not enough pesticide to make him go the fuck away.

  They both look up as we pull in, stepping away from each other, and suspiciously, I stare at Max as he looks between Griffin and me with a stern expression. What were they doing?

  Griffin stares through the windshield at Max for a minute before sighing, and not for the first time, I wonder what is going on with them because they used to be inseparable, and now the tension only seems to grow with each passing day.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, but Griffin only chuffs and says, “Don’t worry about it. I think you’ve got enough on your mind, don’t you?”

  “Really?” This fucker just doesn’t know when to quit.

  “Yes, Halsey, go take another fucking blue pill and pretend you’re the victim,” he says harshly.

  My jaw drops to my knees, and I exit the vehicle on trembling limbs, heading straight for my room and collapsing on the bed, where I relive every cruel word Griffin has ever uttered until I pass into a fitful sleep, visions of his disgust dancing before my eyes.

  ∞∞∞

  On Monday morning, I tiptoe out the door and head across campus to my counseling appointment. Yesterday was spent avoiding both the boys because, at this point, they’re both on my shit list.

  Griffin iced me out so thoroughly I felt cold in his wake, and Max gave me mercurial glares whenever possible. A warning, I suppose.

  I don’t know what to do about Max’s new drug habit, and I wonder just how long he’s been doing it and if Griffin knows. I don’t even know how bad it is, but the spiteful part of me thinks we should hold an intervention to see how he fucking feels about being grilled by our parents and Griffin, but more importantly, I’m worried.

  This isn’t Max, or at least it wasn’t. What happened to my sweet brother? Where did it all go wrong? I don’t know, and I’m sad in the face of this because no matter what I do, I’m damned.

  And my heart hurts for him because I know only too well that drowning your hurt in anything becomes an addiction that’s hard to pull free from.

  Maybe I’m not popping pills to blur it all out, but I crave the oblivion that sleep gives me, and with each passing day without the sweet nothingness, I want it more.

  If Max isn’t careful, he’s going to be in the same fucking boat, and it’s a small fucking floatie slowly losing air.

  We’re also keeping the secret from Griffin, which gives me a small thrill, because for once, I’m allowed behind the curtain usually reserved for them, but it’s a hollow victory because this is seriously fucked-up shit.

  “Hello, Halsey, how’s the last week been?” Dr. Marks asks.

  Glancing up, I smile feebly as I follow him into the room. Let’s see, I found my brother with cocaine, to which he threatened me and then argued with my dick crush again after he stalked me to a party and suggested anal sex.

  “Um, fine,” I mutter.

  “Hm, any feelings of sadness? Not eating?”

  “No, not really. I did get angry, though,” I admit.

  “Okay, good. Do you want to tell me about it?”

  His kind eyes are assessing and I look away under the expectation. “I ran into someone I wasn’t expecting to see, ever again.”

  I’ve been holding on to this for a while, but now I feel the worry pushing at my chest, forcing me to reveal more of myself than I’m willing to give.

  “Okay, I take it this was bad?” he asks gently.

  “Yeah,” I whisper, “it was one of them…”

  “Okay, and how did that make you feel?”

  I can’t help my impatient look, because really? “Scared. Horrified. It’s like everywhere I turn, I’m faced with my past.”

  “Everywhere? Where else have you seen one of them?”

  Sighing, I say, “One of them is on the football team, so he parties
at our house sometimes.”

  “Halsey, you haven’t told your roommates?” I shrink under his censure. “No.”

  How can I possibly explain the desperation to hide the hurt and disgust I feel? To admit it to Griffin or even my brother would expose it, and if either of them were to deny me, I might break completely and thoroughly.

  Besides, they don’t deserve my truth, for they’ve denied me theirs for years. In this, I am truly alone, and it’s a cold, barren walk, but it’s one I am choosing, and since I get so few others, I’m clinging to it grimly.

  “Halsey, this won’t do. You’ve put yourself in a position where you’re not safe. This worries me as to your progress because you can’t heal if you’re still experiencing the visceral emotions from that evening.”

  I agree, but I refuse to tell them of my shame, so we’re at an impasse. If only my fucking mother hadn’t pushed me to live with them, this wouldn’t be an issue, at least not on this scale.

  Clenching my hands in my lap, I lower my gaze. “They’re still both on campus.”

  “Have you considered reporting it?” he asks gently.

  “No,” I whisper, gritting my teeth.

  My mom wanted me to, and she spent weeks trying to convince me, and I think with every push she made, I sank deeper into a hole until I found myself in my bed after five days of staring at a wall.

  It’s not her fault, none of it is, but the specter of explaining what happened to anyone makes me want to submerge myself in a vat of acid because my skin will never be clean again. I will not budge in this, even if I can’t shake the crawling sensation that I’m failing someone else as I do.

  “Do you know why?”

  “Because—because of what I did,” I say, avoiding his gaze and resisting the perennial fucking urge to rub the ugly from my skin.

  “What did you do, Halsey?” he asks gently, cocking his head to the side.

  “I asked for it.” I can’t stop the macabre smile from crossing my face because I did. I begged Jason to fuck me because I wanted to make Griffin pay, and now I have to live in my own lies, rotting and fetid as they are.

  ∞∞∞

  Later that evening, I’m sitting at the table eating a bowl of cereal when Max drops down across from me with a distant expression. Although my session with Dr. Marks was awful, there’s a certain catharsis in admitting my shame, and I’ve been riding that strange relief all day.

  Even Griffin’s brooding in our class after didn’t faze me, and bonus, I’m eating without being told like a good little prisoner.

  Thankfully, Max doesn’t look high, but I brace myself for the coming confrontation anyway as he mutters, “Look, I’m sorry if I scared you the other day.”

  “Okay, thanks,” I say quietly. “What’s going on, Max?”

  His mouth twists, and he looks away, clenching his fist on the table. Ignoring the fact that I shouldn’t be fearful around my brother, I wait for what I don’t know.

  “Remember that one summer when Dad took us fishing?” he asks, staring at the wall behind my head.

  “Yeah,” I say with a faint smile. “I puked over the side when he tried to make me bait the hook with a live worm.”

  Chuffing, he says, “That day, Dad taught me everything he knows about fishing. I guess he hoped it would be something we could do together, and I didn’t have the guts to tell him I hated it.”

  I smile, because I will never forget the look on my dad’s face when Max threw a temper tantrum one of the last time’s he tried to get him to go. Although reluctant to let go of his father son time, he was also amused by Max’s refusal to hurt his feelings while raging about everything else instead. “Yeah, well, I think he got the picture when you put your foot down in the seventh grade.”

  “I found out something,” he says abruptly.

  “What?” The pleasant memories from our childhood fade under his grim expression, and with a pulse of worry, I watch him shrug his shoulders as he looks at the table.

  After a moment, he raises his gaze and stares at me with a desperation that causes me to shiver, his blue eyes shining brightly. “It’s about me.”

  “Okay. What is it?” I ask through dry lips.

  “Remember eighth grade when we took that class trip to DC?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  It was a horrible trip for me, the beginning of the end, I think. Max was a beast to be around, and Griff dropped me, hanging out with Lexie Anderson instead. I was devastated and confused, which only grew when we came home and both of the boys continued to ignore me.

  That was where it all fell apart, and it’s been perfectly horrible ever since.

  “Mom had to pull out our legal documents to provide copies in case of an emergency,” he says grimly.

  Nodding, I watch as his face spasms, his eyes turning a bitter blue hue before he says, “My birth certificate had my name, and all but with it was an order of adoption.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I was fucking adopted,” he says impatiently.

  “What? How’s that possible?”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t know what to tell you. I’m not your fucking brother. My name isn’t even fucking Max, and technically I’m two months younger than I thought I was.”

  Staring at him blindly, I try to process his words, but they’re not computing. None of it is.

  “Max, did you ask Mom? Maybe there’s an explanation—”

  “Fuck, Halsey! Don’t you fucking get it? She lied. They both lied! Why would I ask them?”

  Tears inevitably well at the pain on his face, at the rage in his heart, and I try to comfort him by placing my hand on his, but he flinches and pulls away.

  Sadly, I watch as he stands and paces before me, panting heavily and running his hands through his hair. Truthfully, although I’m devastated for him, in my heart, Max has been and always will be my brother, and nothing could change that, most certainly not words on a flimsy piece of paper.

  But I know this must be devastating for him because everything he believed is a lie and lies have a way of eating at your psyche until you can’t remember the truth from it. Lies kill your fucking soul. I should know, for I walk around every single day bearing the weight of my own.

  “Max, I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say, but if you want answers, we have to ask Mom.”

  “No! Okay? No. I’m not asking that bitch anything.” He slashes his hand through the air.

  Taken aback, I whisper, “I’m sure there’s an explanation, Max…”

  “Fuck off! This doesn’t involve you! It’s about me,” he screams, spittle flying from his mouth.

  Shrinking away, I hold up my hand when he leans toward me with his lips pulled back in an ugly snarl. “This isn’t about you, Halsey. Not everything is about you. Fuck!”

  “I’ve never said that, Max. I’m sorry,” I say on a sob, reaching out to him.

  Flinching away, he slams his fist on the table, causing the bowl to jump and drop down with a clatter as milk spills over the sides.

  “Max?” Griffin says from the doorway.

  Max swings around with a devastated look and backs away, avoiding Griffin’s concerned stare as he glances between us.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Don’t look at her!” Max screams, making me jump out of my chair. “This isn’t about her!”

  Griffin smiles but his eyes are pools of caution. “Okay, Max. What the fuck is going on?”

  “Nothing! Nothing is going on. I was having a conversation with my sister. Do you fucking mind?”

  Griffin drops his hand, cringing away before turning to me with an assessing look.

  Wiping my eyes, I stand from my seat carefully and say, “Max, maybe we can help. Maybe—”

  “Fuck you! I fucking hate you! Don’t you get it? You have everything, and I have fucking nothing.” Helplessly, I watch as my brother rages confused by where this is coming from and why it’s directed at me.

  “Enough,” I mutter,
annoyed by his self-serving fucking pity. “I don’t have everything. I get that you’re upset, but fuck, Max, we all have a fucking cross to bear.”

  “Oh yeah? And what’s your fucking cross?” he sneers.

  Refusing to look Griffin’s way, I rub my aching forehead, wishing for a fucking break. “Bad decisions and a fucking reputation as crazy train.”

  He stares at me stupidly for a moment before he laughs, which turns to a sob, and stepping forward, I place my hand on his arm, but he pulls away roughly and walks to his room, slamming the door behind him.

  Staring after him, I drop my hand to my side and sigh, ashamed that in his most vulnerable moment, I couldn’t be genuine with him. But my torment is dug so deep that I’m afraid to speak it out loud for fear it will pull me under again.

  “What was that about?” Griff asks gruffly.

  Turning to Griffin with a sad smile, I say the only damn thing I can in this house of paper cards, wishing, for once, I could see past the mask. “Secrets and lies.”

  And then I follow my brother from the room and lock myself inside my own, listening to the sound of the fan over my bed until I pass into sleep.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Pain doesn’t make the ugly go away—nothing does.

  Before Griffin came along, Max and I were inseparable, the dynamic duo, or so our parents called us. We shared everything and had no secrets from each other, and over the next few weeks, I wonder if Griffin’s arrival wasn’t the catalyst for our fallout. We both gravitated toward his brilliance, and maybe somewhere along the way, we lost who we were and the connection that once ran so deep.

  To my dismay, I realize that maybe I let him down because with Griffin in the picture, Max became second in my life, and all these years later, I know the pain of being dropped and left out in the cold.

  I don’t know what to do about it now, though, and I fear it’s too late because Max holds a lot of resentment in his heart, and right or wrong, it’s festering within him.

  It’s the week of Thanksgiving, and I’ve avoided any and all interaction with the guys, which is no easy feat, but when they’re home, I go out, wandering the campus or hitting up the library.