Perfect Lie
Page 23

“Can I see you?” My eyes met Abel’s as he leaned against the archway to the living room. “I think I’m ready.”
“I can be at the office in twenty minutes, Delilah.”
I nodded, even though she couldn’t see it. “I want to bring along someone…a friend.”
“All right.”
“All right,” I repeated then hung up and slid my phone into my purse.
“Where are we going?” Abel asked as he pushed himself from the wall. I walked around him to where I’d heard the dryer running earlier and grabbed my clothes.
“We’re going to go see Marie, my therapist, and I’m going to tell you what happened to me.”
Abel nodded and went up the stairs to get dressed. I let my fake smile fall as I undressed and pulled on my own clothing. There was no doubt this would end whatever it was we had, and as much as I tried to convince myself that was what I wanted it, the stabbing pain in my chest disagreed.
Chapter Fifteen
Facing Demons
Abel didn’t make chitchat as we drove across town to Marie’s office. I stared out the passenger window of his old muscle car, wishing we could drive to a new town or state where no one knew us, but it was finally time to stop running.
When we arrived I unbuckled my seatbelt but didn’t move. This was going to be excruciating, and even though Abel believed I wasn’t a bad person, there was little doubt that he’d soon change his mind.
“I’m right here, Lie. I’m not going anywhere.” He reached over and grabbed my hand.
“I know,” I lied, because that’s what I did. I gave him a weak smile and pushed open my door, letting my fingers slip from his grasp for what I knew was the last time.
I slowly made my way up the steps with Abel behind me, his hand on the small of my back. My lips still tingled from his kiss, and I wanted to turn around and press them back against his again, but I dragged myself to the door.
I stepped inside, and Abel pulled the door closed behind me.
“I’m in my office,” Marie called out.
“Last chance to run away,” I told Abel.
“Not a chance.” He chuckled as we stepped inside her office.
“Marie, this is Abel. Abel, that’s Marie.” I watched as she stood to shake his hand.
“I’m ready.” I didn’t need to elaborate. I knew Marie had been waiting for me to finally talk about that day when everything had gone wrong. I never wanted to say the words out loud for fear of admitting Brock was no longer by my side. Guilt had eaten away at me every day for missing him.
“Take your time, Delilah,” Marie said with a blank face, but I knew she was pleased. How could she not be? She had worked for months to get me to this point.
My hands shook as I sat down in the oversize black vinyl chair across the room. My eyes focused on a small fountain that was meant to be soothing, but every time I heard it, it made me need to go to the bathroom. Abel leaned against the large bay window, his eyes scanning the surroundings.
“Brock told me not to go to school that day.” I cleared my throat and dared a glance at Marie. Her pen was poised in her hand, but she stared intently at me, not writing. “I had a huge fight with my mom the night before. She found out that I had snuck out to see him.” I rolled my eyes as I peeled the lightpink nail polish from my thumbnail. “Anyway…” A lump formed in my throat, and I swallowed hard, trying to keep my tears at bay. “I couldn’t stay home, not when she was so mad at me.”
I pushed myself up from my seat and hurried over to the water cooler in the corner of the room. I filled a paper cup and chugged down the cool liquid before tossing the cup into the wastebasket. I stared out the window, my arms over my chest, my eyes unfocused. I felt Abel’s eyes on me from the other end of the bay window, but I couldn’t look at him. If I did, I knew I wouldn’t be able to continue.
“I was late.” Outside it had started to drizzle, and I watched as tiny drops smacked the glass and trickled together before sliding out of view. “Class had started. Ms. Campbell was really strict.” I peeled the remaining flecks of polish from my nail, unsure if I could go on.
“Casey Campbell,” Marie said. She wasn’t asking me a question, but I nodded anyway. It was weird to hear her call a teacher by her first name.
“She was married,” I said, glancing back at Marie, whose expression hadn’t changed. “By the end of first period, I was dying to leave. I was worried that maybe Brock wanted to see me, and that was why he wanted me to stay home. I was afraid he’d hate me if he found out I went anyway.”
“Why would he hate you?”
“Why did anyone hate me?” I shrugged and let out a humorless laugh. “They just did.”
“Brock had proven himself to be different, hadn’t he?” Marie asked.
I nodded as a tear slid down my cheek. Brock was different from anyone I’d known. “He treated me like I was the most important person in the world.” I glanced at Abel’s expressionless face and back at Marie.
“Perhaps to him you were.”
“If I were, he wouldn’t have done what he did. He wouldn’t have left me.”
“Do you blame him?”
“For leaving me? Of course I do!” I spun around and glared at her.
“No. Do you blame him for what happened, or do you still blame yourself?”
“I don’t know anymore,” I said.
Marie smiled, looking pleased with my answer.
“You’re the only person who doesn’t judge him—or me for that matter.” I glanced at my shaky fingers as I balled my hands into fists, trying to stop them from revealing how scared I was.
“It isn’t my job to judge,” she said. “We all do things in life that we regret. We all make mistakes. That’s what makes us human.”
“Most would argue that Brock wasn’t.”
“That he wasn’t regretful?”
“That he wasn’t human.”
Marie shrugged. “Well, it’s easy to vilify people, to place blame. That’s human nature as well.”
“They blamed me.” Another warm tear slid down my cheek, and I resisted the urge to wipe it away. I was so tired of hiding my pain.
“You can’t control how others feel about you. What’s important is how you feel about yourself.” She adjusted in her seat, and I felt her eyes burn into me. “He didn’t leave you, Delilah.”
I sighed as I picked up a small brass cat that sat on the windowsill. My mother collected pointless little things like this. I suddenly had the urge to throw it against the window. My fingers curled around the knickknack as my knuckles turned white.
“Delilah, are you hearing me?”
“It’s ‘Lie.’ Everyone calls me ‘Lie.’” My voice was quiet and sad. It sounded strange hearing how weak I’d become over Brock.
“That’s a rather sad name for someone, don’t you think?”
“Not if it’s the truth.” I put the brass cat back in its place and ran my fingertips down the curve of its back.
“If it’s the truth, how can it be a lie?”
“You’re not making any sense, Marie. Maybe you need someone to talk to.”
My words dripped with sarcasm, and I smiled. Something about Marie made me feel safe. She never judged; she only asked questions to help me understand myself better. She was comforting, like a favorite blanket to hide under when you’re scared of the dark. Brock had been that for me, and now Marie had stepped into that role. But she was teaching me to learn to face the fears and stand on my own. Brock only wanted to shelter me from the real world and keep me from ever facing my demons.
“I’ll keep that in mind, Delilah.” She cocked an eyebrow as she leaned forward to retrieve her glass of water from the small table in front of her. It struck me as odd, and my eyes focused on the intricate glass with rose etchings.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked, and I only nodded. Marie and I weren’t friends. There was a reason she sat with a table between us, her drinking from a fancy glass and me from a paper cup. Perhaps she was worried I’d break it and use it as a weapon. I’d bet money that when I came in next week, the brass cat would be gone. I shook the thought from my head.
“Tell me about lunch.” Marie sat back in her seat, crossing one leg over the other.
“It’s the second meal of the day.”
“Delilah…” Her voice was stern but soft. She sounded like one of those TV moms—the ones who hug their kids when they’re sad and ground them from their favorite toy whenthey break some obscure rule.
“The cafeteria was nearly empty when I got to lunch.” My voice cracked, and I hated how weak I sounded. “I can still smell the sloppy joes we had that day. I remember being excited because my mom never made those at home. She barely knew how to cook anything, so we always had mac and cheese or hotdogs.” I smiled sardonically as I looked down at my Chuck Taylors. My new pair, which I wore today, were blue. The ones I’d worn in high school were white.
“When you grow up where I did, you learn to appreciate the little things. Anyway…” I shook my head. I’d gotten sidetracked. I glanced at Abel. His eyes were fixed on me, and only concern marred his beautiful face. “Shelly sought me out again. It was like a favorite hobby of hers to torture me.” I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t hide the pain I felt at the memory. I took my seat as I prepared to relive that painful day.
“I see you haven’t killed yourself yet. Pity,’” she said with a glare. I swallowed against the lump in my throat.
“Please don’t. Not today, Shelly,” I begged, hoping for once that she could see the pain I was in. Fighting with my mom and now knowing I would lose Brock in only a few days—I couldn’t handle any more than that.
“Oh, how cute. You think I care.” Her lips formed an evil smirk. I jumped, as it sounded like one of the cafeteria doors slammed closed, but Shelly just looked at me, sadness and confusion replacing her wicked grin.
“Shelly?” I said, and her hand went to the table. As my eyes fell, I saw her pink fitted Polo shirt begin to turn red around her shoulder. “Shelly?” I said with more panic as the loud slamming sound grew. The next thing I knew, it was chaos. The sounds of screaming filled the air, punctuated by the ear piercing bangs that rumbled like thunder through the cavernous space.
I slid under the bench seat of the table, and my eyes locked with Shelly’s. She looked oddly peaceful, in shock maybe. I reached for her hand and helped her crawl under the table beside me as my hand went to her damp, crimson shoulder.
“What’s happening?” she asked, her voice shaking.
“I don’t know.”
“It hurts.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks, and I pulled her in for a hug. It was a strange feeling, hugging the girl who, just the day before, had made me contemplate killing myself. Her fingers dug painfully into my sides as my thoughts raced.
Bang.
Screams.
Bang.
Someone fell beside the table, and I recognized the lifeless eyes of Danny London, his eyes fixed on mine, unmoving.
Whoever was shooting was yelling over the noise, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying until a pair of old, worn black boots stepped next to Danny’s body. They kicked at his side, and he didn’t move. I struggled to hold my breath as Shelly cried cry hysterically. I put my hand over her mouth just as the gunman sunk to his knees and bent his head down.
I stared into Brock’s stormy gray eyes as confusion and anger flashed across his face.
“Bird, you weren’t supposed to be here.” His voice was eerily calm, like the way he used to talk to me in the shelter when I’d been upset.
I squeezed Shelly tighter as my heart seized in my chest. The pain was excruciating. I opened my mouth, trying to find words, but Brock placed his finger over his lips to tell me to be quiet as he winked and stood up.
More shots rang out, and I tasted bile as it rose in my throat. I pried Shelly’s fingers from my skin. Her face was gray, and her breathing was shallow.
“Be very quiet,” I said, as I brushed her bloodsticky hair from her face. “I have to…” A sob ripped through my chest. “I have to go help.” My words were garbled from the next sob as I struggled not to completely lose my mind.
Two minutes ago I hated this girl, and for reasons unknown, she hated me. Now I was trying to comfort her. I gripped the bench seat with shaky hands as I pulled myself up between it and the table. Crowds of people blocked the doorway as they struggled to flee the cafeteria. That just made them a bigger target. I screamed, but I couldn’t even hear my own voice. The smell of cafeteria food and the blood that was smeared across my body was turning my stomach, and I had to stop myself from retching. Someone had bumped against one of the light switches, and half the room was now dark.
“Brock…” My voice broke, and the wind was knocked from my lungs as I was pushed to the floor. A boy I didn’t know gave me an apologetic look as he stepped on my hand and ran for the doorway.
Tears streamed down my face, as I tripped on the cold tile floor and gripped my stomach.
My arms wrapped tightly around my stomach as I rocked in my chair, oblivious to how insane I must have looked.
“You tried to help them,” Marie’s voice broke the silence, and my teary eyes met hers as I nodded slowly.
“I had to try. It was my fault.”
Marie shook her head, and Abel took a step toward me, but Marie cut her gaze to him, and he stopped. “Brock was troubled, Delilah. You didn’t cause his problems, and you couldn’t stop him. No one could have after he made the decision to do what he did.”