My Beautiful Lies (Beautiful Nothing #2) (2 page)

“I said I would be by your side and that means always. I won't leave you again even if you beg me." That's all it takes for her to throw her arms around me in relief. 

THREE MONTHS LATER

I have been staying every night at Laney's house while I have a friend take care of mine. She is looking better, getting back into her music, and finally teaching children how to play piano again. Two weeks ago she woke up on a Saturday morning and told me she was ready for a change. She dyed her hair a warm brown, started wearing makeup. She stopped hiding from the mirror and actually spends a lot of time in front of it now. We take jogs down the back roads of Edge Water every morning before we leave for work. This is the Laney I saved, the care-free woman I saw behind her hooded eyes.

As I stroll my way down the stairs, I can hear her in the kitchen with the music playing softly as she cleans. She is standing over the sink washing dishes. As I guide my hands around her waist, she jumps but relaxes instantly. “You off today?”  she asks as she leans her head back looking at me. 

“Sure am, what do you have in mind?" Placing light kisses on her cheek, she giggles, turning around to face me. Her hands slide up and around my neck smiling. 

“Well, I thought maybe we could go to the local music store; I want to buy a piano for the house. Well, for me, unless you play." I grin as she giggles. She is so sexy in her low-cut shorts, showing off her sexy legs. We have slept together a lot since the incident; it helps her cope by replacing the bad memories with good is what she tells me. So far it's been working pretty well—we can't keep our hands off each other.

She doesn't really talk about her nightmares or Lindsay anymore, which worries me that she’s keeping it bottled up. If that's what she has to do to forget, then I guess I will go along with it until she cracks again. I tell her to go take a shower and I will be right behind her. Walking into the bathroom, images flash through my mind of the night I saw her bloody body. I get lightheaded as it races through my mind, but her voice humming in the shower erases it all in an instant. Stripping off my sweatpants, I slip in the shower behind her.

The hot water runs down my chest as I grab her by the hips, pulling her closer until her ass backs up, hitting my cock. I grow hard at the touch. Running my hands down her body, I reach around to her clit. Whimpering softly, she places her hand on mine. We work together in soft circles as she moans my name. I turn her around roughly, pushing her back against the cold tile wall. Dropping to my knees, I push her right leg up on my shoulder, kissing her inner thigh. I spread her legs wider as she holds onto my shoulders, I send the first shiver up her spine with my first slow roll of my tongue. 

I lap up her juices as she pants and moans with shaky legs. When I can't take it any longer, I stand up, bringing her head to mine, kissing her impatiently. She guides her hands to my dick, stroking it with a strong grip. I lift her up, placing her legs around my waist as she guides my cock to her entrance. In one quick thrust, I am deep inside her, working in and out. She tightens her legs, moaning and pulling at my hair. When she shouts out that she is almost there, I drive in deeper and faster as her head falls back. Her eyes are rolled in the back of her head as her whole body shakes and I watch her come undone. Following right behind her, I pull out and let the water wash it down the drain.

Once we finish taking a shower, we get dressed to head to town. We walk through the doors and her face lights up. She grabs me by the arm, taking me throughout the store to look at all the grand pianos. She tells me about how her grandfather bought her first piano, how she would play every day. She proceeds to talk about the different types of pianos, bubbling with excitement. I haven't seen her so happy in my life. At this moment, I feel regret for all of the things I have put her through as I fall more in love with her. But the voices in my head say differently, leaving me fighting with myself.

She squeals when she finds the perfect one, so I call over a worker to talk to her about it. She pays the man and sets up the delivery date and we leave the store for lunch. 

We decide to eat at the Munch Box since it is close to home. I order a double-bacon cheeseburger and fries; she orders a small order of fries. I look at her with raised eyebrows and she laughs saying she isn’t that hungry. I brush it off, but I see the sadness showing in her eyes. We chat about her job; she wants to get her class into a state competition. I agree that it sounds good for her. I drift from the conversation when thoughts of her hurting take over. I want to be normal with her. I want to make her happy. But this monster doesn’t stay hidden long. He feeds on tears and lusts for screams. I don’t know how to silence it anymore—I need a release. 

“Are you listening to me?” She giggles. 

“Yes, sorry. I am really tired today for some reason.” I pay the bill and take a ten-dollar bill out, placing it on the table. When we make it to the car she asks if she can run inside another store. I tell her sure as long as I can sit in the car and wait. 

I wait for another thirty minutes before her smiling face climbs in the car.

“Find everything you were looking for?” I ask her, reaching over her to fasten her seat belt. 

“Yes, I got this new scarf. With Christmas coming I wanted to celebrate with style.” She laughs playfully, showing off her dark maroon scarf with silver accents. I smile, but it’s not a full smile. It never goes unnoticed with her. She catches it and frowns.

“I think I need to go home for a few hours and think.” Rubbing my hands through my hair, I look at her asking for approval.

“Think about what?” The concern in her eyes shows a hint of sadness, making me feel worse.

“Work. I have this patient that’s having a really hard time. I’m trying to think of ways to break through the barrier. Get them to talk, you know?” I am lying straight to her face. I feel the sweat rolling off back of my neck. Lying to her is becoming a hard habit to break—I just keep piling them on.

“Oh. Okay, well, I can make myself useful while you’re gone. I can go to work and try to get some of my weaker students ready for the competition,” she says as she looks down.  Flipping her hair onto one shoulder, she lifts her head back up to look at me. I can see the anguish seeping through her words as she fights back her tears. The fear sets in as she struggles to find the words she was going to say, but I cut her off mid-sentence. 

“I will be back tonight; you have nothing to be upset about. I just need to be in my office at home, thinking up strategies to help my patient. I promise it has nothing to do with you or us. I just need to think in a place that has always helped me,” I lie. Going home will just feed the desires haunting me.

I lean over and wrap her in a tight embrace. Lifting her chin, she stares past me.  

 “I know I overreacted—I am getting really good at that. I guess I was just worried because we haven’t been away from each other since that day… you know?”

“I get it, I do. But there is absolutely nothing for you to stress over. I will be back tonight and we can have a nice dinner. I will even cook,” I say, kissing her forehead gently.

She agrees with a genuine smile.  The ride home is quiet, and I want to break the hushed space between us.

“I love you, and I know you’re worried. Don’t be, okay?”  I say, reaching across and placing my hand on hers.

“I know. It’s okay. I believe you. I will keep myself busy. I’m good. You seem like you’re more worried than I am.” Smiling, she grips my hand. 

When we arrive at her house, I walk her in. She is no longer moping around, which is good. I give her a kiss, reassuring her I’ll be back, and leave.

My drive home is nothing but nagging remembrance of the past and of the abuse I have inflicted on others throughout the years. All of them leading up to my main target: Laney. The truth hurts, but sometimes it’s more than pain. Sometimes you’re born with a broken soul—pain is easy when that’s all you know. That
is
all I know. I watched my family die right in front of me when I was ten. I watched the life get choked out of my mother, my father’s brains splatter across the living room wall, and my ten-month-old baby sister being drowned in the kitchen sink. There was a serial killer on the loose, Dad said not to worry, that it was going on up in the city. We all believed him. I mean, he was our dad, our protector. An hour later my life was changed with the ring of the doorbell. A masked man walked through the door first. Following behind him were three more hooded ones. It all happened extremely fast. Each man-handled one of us. I was held and forced to watch them take the life of each person I loved. From there on out, I have been another person. Well… only sometimes.

I went to foster care, was moved from home to home repeatedly for messing with girls who wanted nothing to do with me. I grew fond of certain things. Losing my virginity to my last foster mother was one of them. She was younger, early thirties. She was one of those mom types who fostered for the check every month, taking in the older bunch that would soon turn eighteen and be off into the real world. I was seventeen going on eighteen and getting ready to graduate high school. I was kind of heavier back then, excellent in school—a nerd is what I was teased with. I was two weeks from getting my diploma and I went into my foster mom’s room. Her name really isn’t important. I walked in just as she walked out of the shower. Her first reaction was to scream, but I hushed her as I moved closer. Her body responded like mine did and it just happened. Do I regret it? No. I went to her room in hopes that I could sway her into doing exactly that. I slept with her every day until I left for college. She didn’t want me to go, she said she was in love with me. I didn’t see her like that. She was really upset about it which led to her cleaning out the bank and leaving all her foster kids behind. She has yet to be found.

In college, I was looking for a fresh start. I tried to find a girl to settle down with, but I was met with nothing but failure. I grew tired of being turned down by every female I talked to. It would take weeks, even months, to work up the courage to talk to one and every single one would shoot me down. Yes, I was different, I was weird and ugly. But that shouldn’t be a reason to treat me like they all did. I grew a complex and started to hate women like them.

My phone rings, thoughts from my past vanishing as I slide the green phone across the screen.

“You can head home for a few; I am coming home. I will text you when I’m done,” I say, hanging it up before I get a response back.

I reach the beginning of my road and pass Jake as he flips me off wearing a devilish smile. Jake Thomas, the rock star, is my childhood best friend. If you haven’t figured it out, I already knew about everything that has happened with Laney. I am part of it, a part of everything. I am the reason she tosses and turns at night. The reason she wakes up with tears streaming down her clammy, pale face and screaming for help. I am her nightmare. It’s quite beautiful to know that you can break someone down to such a point that they don’t realize they’re drawn to the monster who did it. A part of me is in love with her, but the other part wants to destroy her and everything she is just so I can fix it. Coming home saves her from the pain, saves her from living it again. Lindsay is saving her; she was always meant to. 

Once I get inside it’s eerily quiet. I hate silence—it gives the voices leeway to speak freely in my head. I turn on the radio, switching it to the highest number on the knob. Opening the basement door, I head down the stairs to do what I came here for. 

Lindsay leans against the white beam, hands chained behind her back. With her head down, her black roots peek out of her blush-colored hair. Her clothes have been removed, her ribs piercing through her cadaverous skin. Looking at her should make me feel ashamed. That’s far from what I feel, though. The emotions inside awaken when she lifts her head. Her panic-filled eyes register my presence, stirring my excitement. 

“James, please tell me this is a joke. Please tell me you’re here to save me,” she says, breathless as her eyes roll closed then open again. “James! Answer me!”