Bitter Lies

by Nina Lincoln

  “Why do you hate music? You used to love it?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.

  With a fierce glare, I stare at him before giving in. “Because it brings bad memories. Why did you keep stuff about me in your closet?”

  He leans back in surprise, and I smirk. That’s right, if you’re going to snoop, then I am, too, fucker.

  “So, you were looking through my closet,” he murmurs, and I flush, caught out.

  Shit.

  “Curious?” he mocks, and even though it irritates me, I let him think it because the alternative is worse.

  “Well?”

  His mouth curves up in a delicious smirk. “They’re memories I threw in a box and forgot about.”

  Eyeing him suspiciously, I’m given no time to ponder the veracity because he’s on to the next question. “If Jason isn’t the reason, then why the breakdown?”

  Shifting uneasily in my seat, I look away. Why the damn third degree? What is he looking for?

  “I just fell apart.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Yes!”

  “You just fell apart…and ended up practically comatose in your damn bed?”

  “Yes!”

  “I don’t buy it,” he rasps.

  “Too damn bad. Why do you really keep inviting Jason to parties? You hate him,” I demand.

  Sitting back, he eyes me with a curious expression before licking his bottom lip. “Because I want to know why.”

  “Why what?”

  “Why him? Is he a good fuck? Did he tell you pretty lies?”

  “You’re being absurd.”

  “Just tell me.” He’s so fucking intense, I turn away but his next words bring me to my knees.

  “Why him? Why not…” With a grimace, he looks away avoiding my gaze.

  “Griffin?”

  “Whatever…maybe you were just drunk on his dick.”

  “Nice.” The urge to tell him off is tripping over my tongue, but I bite my fucking lip instead, wishing it was his wicked damn tongue.

  “Your story doesn’t make sense, you know. You’ve been insisting you don’t like Jason, but now you’ve made up a completely disgusting story about rape to get back at him. Did you lie about the video?”

  My heart stops in my chest, and for a moment, all I feel is complete panic as I whisper, “Video?”

  How many fucking videos does Jason have? And how many has Griffin seen?

  “Yes,” he says impatiently before pausing, “the one I told you about. Why, is there more?”

  Shaking my head vehemently, I force my eyes wide and ignore the sick slide in my chest. “No, of course not.”

  “There is,” he says, leaning forward with vicious intensity. “What are you hiding?”

  Pushing back from the table, I grab the back of the chair to steady myself. “Nothing!”

  “Why did you take the necklace?” He stands with me and I shrink under his fucking penetrating gaze.

  “What? The necklace again? I told you—”

  “No! At the lake, why did you steal the necklace?”

  Gasping, I step back, my pulse pounding so hard in my throat it’s a wonder I’m not fucking seizing or some shit.

  “I—”

  “Don’t lie to me,” he thunders, and I flinch away. “Who gave you the bruises on your arms? What’s going on?”

  Wiping a lone tear from my cheek, I say shakily, “Is that what this is about? Pretending to want me so you can have the answers.”

  He huffs and runs his hands through his hair. “I’m pretty sure fucking you is about just that.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “Neither is yours. What are you going to do with the necklace? Sell it? Keep it? Hide it from me?” he demands, clenching his hands at his sides.

  Slumping, I turn away because I’m tired of this shit. Griffin doesn’t fucking care about me, and I’m hiding behind lies because, yet again, I’m holding out for something that doesn’t exist.

  When will I ever fucking learn?

  “I have the necklace because Max asked me to get it.”

  He chuffs, his tone like velvet. “Lies.”

  Snorting, I laugh out a response. “You want the fucking answers or not?”

  “Fine,” he says, stepping up behind me, “but I’m tired of the lies.”

  “Me too.”

  “Why would Max want the necklace, then?”

  “That’s his story. You have to ask him.”

  “Whatever. Max has been a shit to you for years. Why steal from me for him?”

  “Why not? You hate me,” I say sourly.

  “You already had the damn necklace. Why give it back, then?” With each damn question, his voice rises until I can hear the frustration bleeding through the calm façade, he’s trying to portray.

  “I don’t want the damn necklace. Max does. I needed something from him, and that was his demand. For the record, the damn thing is in my room, and you can have it back.”

  “What did you want from Max?”

  “None of your business!” I exclaim, swinging back around and poking him in the chest.

  “I’m this fucking close to calling your damn mother and telling her you’re psycho. Just tell me the damn truth!”

  “You wouldn’t!”

  His nostrils flare as he leans into my face and says against my lips, “Try me.”

  “Money. I needed money, you asshole!”

  “For what? What could you possibly need money for that you couldn’t ask your parents? A damn abortion?”

  With that, his eyes widen, and he steps back, clutching his chest. “Are you fucking pregnant?”

  “No!” Fuck. To be clear, I haven’t exactly been paying attention to my period, and now I’m reeling.

  Am I? Fuck.

  Grabbing my chin, he says succinctly, “What do you need money for?”

  “A lawyer! Okay? A fucking lawyer.”

  His brows fly over his forehead, before they lower in confusion. “For what?”

  Sighing long and loud, I stare at the wall as I whisper, “To get Jason to back off.”

  “What?” he growls. “Back off what?”

  Turning to him, I try to keep my mouth from trembling, but it’s impossible because my heart is breaking, and my soul is shattered.

  Every part of me hurts as I say in a monotone voice, “He has videos. Of my greatest shame. And I thought maybe I could sue or something.”

  There’s a pregnant pause as he dissects my words. “Your greatest shame?”

  “Yes.” Inevitably the fucking tears well, and I fight them back with a frustrated sigh.

  “What? That you fucked him?”

  “Griffin,” I whisper, “I was so drunk that night I did things I’m not proud of, and he’s threatening to show them to…everyone.”

  “To everyone…me?”

  Turning away, I swipe my eyes and cross into my room, gathering my bag because I’d rather sleep on the street than this.

  “Halsey, what’s on the videos?” he demands roughly.

  “Sex. Me. Them! Everything,” I sniffle, my skin crawling.

  Brushing past him to the bathroom, I wash my hands, and when that doesn’t work, I scrub my arms, but the feeling won’t go away. It’s all within me, and it’s everywhere.

  “Halsey, what are you doing?” Griffin steps up to my back and grabs my hands, his dark eyes painting a picture I never wanted him to see.

  Pulling away, I scrub harder. “It’s just, I’m dirty.”

  “Shit. Hals, stop.” He grabs me up and pulls me away from the sink.

  Staring at the wall blankly, I swallow but it doesn’t help the rasp, as I say, “I begged you to love me, and when you laughed in my face, I turned to Jason.”

  “And?” My gaze flies to his at the feral sound that scratches at his throat.

  “And”—I shrug, bowing my head—“apparently I got so drunk I begged him.”

  His hands drop away from me, and turning, I look
into his eyes, the irises dark with pain. “I don’t remember most of it. I think. But when I came to…”

  Shuddering, I wrap my arms around my waist and glance at the sink again. Dirty.

  “And what?” Griffin demands, stepping between me and the sink.

  “And she said no. She said stop. She was hurting so bad…”

  Pulling my chin around, he rests his forehead against mine. “She who?”

  “Her,” I say, raising tearstained eyes to him. “Me. Be careful what you wish for.”

  Turning away from him, I head back into the room and grab my things, shoving them in the bag with trembling fingers as he whispers in a raw voice behind me, painfully, “You said no?”

  Stiffening, I swing toward him and raise my arms wide. “Why? Because if I hadn’t, I got what I deserved?”

  “What? No! Halsey…fuck,” he says, turning to the wall and punching a hole by the door.

  For a shocked moment, we stand in silence before he says, “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “I did,” I say softly, “but I’m a liar. Remember?”

  Flinching, he turns to me with burning eyes. “What was I supposed to do? Everything has been so fucking screwed up! And you told me to my face that you lied!”

  “Believe me!” I scream, throwing a shirt at his face. “You believed whoever lied about me all those years ago. You knew me! You should have trusted me!”

  Casting his eyes to the floor, he groans, scrubbing his face. “How was I supposed to know your brother would lie?”

  “Because he loves you, you idiot!”

  “What? I…”

  Slumping onto the bed, I say tiredly, “Max loves you. And you believed him. You tortured me for years. You hated me! Fuck!”

  “Halsey, I didn’t know. Your fucking brother was my best friend!”

  “No! I was your best friend! Me!” I scream, slamming my fist against my chest.

  “I know! And I was fucking devastated! Do you know what it felt like to think the only…I loved you!”

  “Yes, I know how it feels, Griff, because I loved you, too.” I can feel the surge of emotion pushing at my skull and turning, I grab my bag.

  “Where are you going?” he asks, grabbing the bag out of my hand.

  “I can’t stay here.”

  “You have nowhere else to go,” he says firmly.

  “I don’t care.”

  “Fuck! Fine! I’ll leave, you stay,” he bellows, grabbing his keys and leaving before I have the chance to respond.

  Bewildered, I stare at the door before slumping onto the bed and letting it go, the rage and pain, hate and ugliness.

  I can’t hold on to it any longer. I can’t breathe for it. I can’t…

  I made mistakes, and I will live with the pain of them forever, but I can’t hate myself. I have to forgive…myself and Griffin and maybe even Max, too.

  Because if I don’t, I can never be free again.

  ∞∞∞

  Griffin sticks to his word and never comes back, and over the weekend, I head back to my dorm, perfectly numb. I confessed my greatest sin, and I knew, I knew that it would sting along my skin like a thousand tiny bees because, in this, I cannot hide.

  During my counseling session the following Monday, I sit down warily across from Dr. Marks, who eyes me kindly before asking, “What’s wrong?”

  “Everything. Nothing.”

  Cocking his head to the side, he waits while I think, and before I know it, I’m saying sadly, “I’m tired of blaming myself.”

  “And why do you blame yourself?”

  “Because I asked for it,” I mutter.

  “How?”

  Resisting the urge to itch my skin, I fight off the desperation in my fucking soul. “I was drunk and stupid, and I allowed them to do disgusting things to me.”

  “Did you ask them to stop?”

  “Yes?”

  “Did they?” he asks pointedly.

  “No.”

  “Then it seems to me, they made a choice, and it was to continue when you were no longer willing,” he says gently, to which I smile through my tears.

  “Yeah.”

  ∞∞∞

  After my session, I wander through campus, feeling simultaneously light and weighted down, but this is a mark of my progress, and I’ll accept it if it means I’m moving forward.

  I can’t continue to blame myself. It happened, and maybe I did ask for it in the beginning, but I eventually said no, and the dicks didn’t stop. Maybe if they had the itchy feeling crawling through me wildly wouldn’t hurt so fucking badly.

  Maybe I wouldn’t walk this earth hating myself. Maybe…I don’t know. But I have to let it go, or the only person who suffers for it is me because Jason doesn’t fucking care. Will doesn’t care. The others, they don’t care.

  I’ve contemplated contacting Miranda, but I don’t know what I would say beyond apologizing because I pulled her into my madness over a guy who probably doesn’t want either of us in the end.

  Thoughts of which bring me back to Griffin, and I can’t help but wonder if he doesn’t believe me even now. And even if he does, how does he see me? I don’t know, and as much as I long to reach out to him, I stay away because we’re both too fucking broken.

  Although, at night, when I can’t sleep for the thoughts that swirl through my brain heavily, I hold close to my chest his confession that he loved me. Because at least I have the past and those memories that were real to hold close.

  The way he would brush my hair behind my ear and look at me with a single-minded intensity as though I was the most important person in the world, creating a havoc of butterflies in my stomach.

  Or how he always brought me a soda after school, knowing my penchant for the sweet drink, presenting it with a wide smile and a twinkle in his brilliant eyes.

  Although my favorites were when we gazed at the stars, and he pointed out every constellation, telling me the stories behind each one.

  Now I can rest easy in the knowledge that our past was true, even if our present can never be anything more than a fucked-up mess.

  My phone buzzing in my pocket brings me away from my gloomy thoughts, and I answer the unknown number with a frown.

  “Hello?”

  “Ms. Moore?”

  “Yes?”

  “This is Mark Lowery with Lowery and Lowery. I’m calling about the injunction you want to file against, uh, Mr. Jason Macklemore?” he says, rustling papers in the background.

  “I’m—how did you get this number?”

  “Mr. Hathaway put me on retainer, Ms. Moore.”

  “Oh,” I say, licking my lips.

  Did Griffin hire an attorney for me? Holy shit.

  Fumbling, I say, “Yes? Um, do we need to meet or?”

  “Yes, I’ll need full details. Could you come to my office?”

  “Right.”

  After making arrangements, I sit down on the bench behind me and stare into nothing because Griffin hired an attorney…for me. I don’t even know what to think, but I’m grateful because this is going to give me the freedom to move on. Knowing those videos existed was weighing on me heavily because I never knew when the other shoe might drop and with whom they would share the information.

  And now, I never have to worry again. I hope.

  But what does this mean? Is he giving me a goodbye gift? Or asking for forgiveness?

  Does it matter?

  Searching my soul, I already know the answer because it’s always been him, and I’ve been waiting for this since he iced me out so long ago, but I don’t know if we can get past everything—the cruelty and the lies.

  I guess I won’t know if I don’t try, though.

  Pulling up his number with shaky fingers, I type out a text and hold my breath, but he doesn’t answer right away, and I head back to my dorm.

  Thank you. This means more than you can ever know.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Forgiveness is a double-edged sword.

>   I don’t hear back from Griffin, and sadly I acknowledge that this was his goodbye, and maybe it’s for the best because he’s an integral part of the past I’m trying to move on from.

  Try telling that to my aching, empty heart, though.

  The lawyer assured me I have a good case, and not only did he file an injunction but also a restraining order.

  Jason Macklemore is about to get served.

  There’s no victory in it, though, because he’s a douche canoe who doesn’t even understand that what he did was wrong, and his friends? They’re still out there, oblivious to the consequences of their actions.

  Maybe if I had been stronger, I could have reported it and pressed charges, but I’m not in a place to face the censure, and I feel like I’ve been through enough.

  Is that selfish? I don’t know, but maybe I get to be selfish for a while.

  The semester passes quickly after that, and I finish out my classes grimly, mourning my losses even when I should be celebrating my victory because Jason agreed to turn over the videos and stay far away from me. It’s not enough, but it will have to be.

  Since moving out of Griffin’s, I’ve created new friendships and made the best of the last of the year, although it hasn’t been all fun and games. I can’t get Griffin out of my head, which I guess is to be expected, because with everything that went down, my past haunts me now more than ever.

  Although I guess I can call it a win that I finally got my period and put to rest any worries about an unplanned pregnancy.

  And I’m trying—even Dr. Marks says he’s seen improvement, and that’s all I can ask for because maybe I will never be that girl again who took her safety for granted, but I might just find my way into someone new and perhaps be even better for it. Maybe…

  I’m packing up for summer vacation, and my roommate is already gone when I hear from Max for the first time in weeks. We’ve avoided any types of conversations that didn’t involve our parents, and I don’t know what, if anything, happened with Patch.

  Frankly, I’ve wondered since Griffin’s revelation about Max being behind the lies if all this wasn’t a game to keep us apart, which is tragic because Griffin and I don’t need help in that department. Nope, we fucked it up royally just fine ourselves.