Pretty Little Lies (Lie #2) (3 page)

Monday, February 16, 2015

Ethan

Please talk to me

I miss you more than I ever

Realized I could miss someone

You taught me how to relax

And simply enjoy life

I finally for once felt like

I was living.

Without you, I feel dead.

I had sent a text every day since she walked out the door. Eighty-five in all. Each one was left ignored and unanswered. I wondered where she was and if she ever thought of me. The fact was I wanted her to walk through the door, climb up in my lap, and wrap herself around me. I chucked the glass I was holding across the room. I had to be in court in an hour, but all I wanted to do was go to Dylan. I needed to feel her skin and know she was okay. Where the hell was she?

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Dylan

A cock sprung free from my small hand. I held it, amazed by its smooth texture, and traced my pinky over a heavy vein that ran alongside of it. A man’s breath hitched as he twitched in my grasp. He started to guide my fingers along the entire length. “Oh, damn, that feels fucking amazing.”

I glanced up and saw the beautiful face of the man my mind wanted to hold onto smiling in total bliss.
He released my grasp as I licked the head of his manhood and tasted the saltiness of his pre-cum. His eyes closed as he groaned out in pleasure. I sucked the tip into my mouth. He worked his fingers gingerly in my hair. At that moment, I knew I loved him.

Everything blurred around me as I was transferred into a rundown shack and was surrounded by unknown faces. One of them pushed me down to kneel, and as much love as I felt coming from the one man, I felt that much hate coming from every man in the room. The worst of the bunch was rough and harsh as he pulled my hair.

“Open your damn mouth, cum slut,” he spit out. I heard the name Jamie in the distance, but demon suited him. I started to panic when a sleazy man that looked like he had not bathed in weeks thrust his not-so-small erection into my face. “Let’s try that pretty little mouth out on your dick. Better she learns the value of no teeth on you.”

The dirty one placed the head of his cock against my tightly sealed lips. I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the humiliation

“Dylan, Privy,” the man I knew I had loved said over and over, shaking me. I wasn’t in that rundown shack. I was with him. He stroked his thumb over my tears. He loved me too.

My feelings were a mix of jumbled emotions. For one, I was relieved and stroked my small baby bump knowing Little E was made in love. That for a moment, I was loved. Then the brutality of what I remembered and obviously lived through crushed me to my very core. I had spent my life without knowing where to turn. Being totally alone in the world was an emptiness that was indescribable. It was a feeling I would not wish on anyone. It was where I had discovered my life was. I knew that my memories would only grow harder to understand and nothing would seem right until I found Ethan. I just wanted to remember. I just wanted to know who he was and where the hell he was.

My head turned when someone knocked on the door. I sat transfixed as Deacon walked in. Everything came flooding back. I remembered my dad pushing me on a tire swing. I remembered him lying in a coffin. I remembered my mom going off the deep end. I remembered Louie. The kids at school. The gang rape. I collapsed to the floor. My whole wretched life flashed before me like an old b-rated movie. My stomach twisted. My head throbbed. I remembered everything but the one memory that would rip a hole in me. Who the sad man was. Deacon slid down beside me as I heaved tears. I wanted to turn off the swarm of memories. I yanked my hair from my scalp. No wonder my past was stored away to be forgotten. There was not one memory I wanted to relive. I started convulsing. I heard Deacon screaming, but she sounded like she was in the distance. A nurse helped me in the bed, followed by a tranquilizer to ease my ravaged nerves. 

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Ethan

Dylan had totally turned her back on me. I actually carried her another bouquet of primroses. I swore I heard someone shuffling around in the apartment, but no one answered the door. She must truly hate me, and it was tearing me apart inside. What I wouldn’t give to be able to just hold her precious hand in mine one more time.

When I brought Dylan to meet the family, I’d told my dad I was going to ask her to marry me. My mom even gave me my grandmother’s ring to give her. That ring had burned a hole in my pocket. Fuck Victoria, how could I ask Dylan to marry me when she wouldn’t even talk to me?

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Dylan

The past week had basically been the same. I spent my time with Danny in one grueling therapy session after another until I was bombarded with a memory. My mind was in overload with things no one should have to live through once, much less twice. I clung to every memory, however, because I knew each one brought me another step closer to discovering if the sad man was the Ethan my heart craved. The doctor said for some reason I was repressing the memory of him. She didn’t know why, but something was causing it. I let each memory play over in my head. Nothing could be worse than the thought of each one of those . . . except, if he was the one that caused all my pain. That thought hung in the air and affected every other thought I had.

Deacon bounced on the bed beside me and crossed her legs at her ankles. She had her customary life-is-a-bitch look on her face. But that day, she did something I could not ever remember her doing before, and I remembered everything concerning Deacon. She took my hand in hers.

“You look like death warmed over,” she said, and grabbed the remote, muting the television.

“Allison said the opposite last night,” I snapped back, not in the mood for any criticism.

“Well, lucky for me she has bad taste.” She laid her head on mine and clasped my hand tighter. “You miss him?”

I didn’t ask who. I already knew. I chuckled.
Hell, yeah, I miss him, and I can’t even remember him.
“I just want to remember.”

“I don’t know what went down before the wreck. I do know you said some crazy stuff while you were out, but you also said you loved him more than once. I think you need to talk whatever out with him, so you can heal.”

“But how?” I asked as I fiddled the sheets between my fingers.

“Let me take care of it. Write him a letter. Tell him how you’re feeling, and I’ll take care of the rest.” She clambered out of bed and yanked my hair. “Oh yeah, do you remember if you backed your cellphone up to the cloud?”

I nodded.
Damn, I could remember what the cloud was but not the most important person in the world to me.
“Why are you doing this? I get the impression that Sarah hates him.”

“Hate is saying it lightly, but Sarah has never loved anyone. If Allison and I ever found ourselves in this situation, I pray someone would help us.”

Monday, March 2, 2015

Dylan

I’d spent the last five days trying to get my feelings down in written form. But how can you explain your heart when you cannot even remember the man who owns it?

Ethan,

I have spent the last few days trying to find the right words.

I marked a hard, thick line through the writing and wadded the paper in my hands, tossing it across the room where it bounced off another ball of paper.

Ethan,

I don’t know what to say, so I’ll start with the facts. On November 24, 2014, I was in a wreck that left me with a crushed pelvis and shattered left leg. It also left me with amnesia. I was unconscious.

Ethan,

I’m looking for you. If you ever cared please come to The University of Tennessee Medical Center tonight. I’m in room 407. I’ll be waiting for you.

I folded the letter and sealed it. I couldn’t find the right words to explain my feelings, but deep down I knew when I saw him they would flow freely.

I picked up the cell phone that Deacon had replaced my old one with. I’d been so out of it, I’d not even realized that my phone was destroyed in the wreck. She had all my contacts replaced, including Ethan’s. I stared at the phone for at least an hour before I had the nerve to text him.

Hey, it’s me

Can you meet me at the Pier Tonight?

Say around six.

Hey, me

I’ll meet you anywhere.

I’ll be there at 5:30

I had to remember to get Deacon a gift for delivering the letter for me.

Monday, March 2, 2015

Ethan

The very thought I was going to get to see her, touch her was almost too much. I had so many things to say, but above all I wanted to tell her she was it for me. I loved her beyond reason and was ready to beg her to come back to me.

It was six thirty when I felt a small hand on my back. It caused my heart to leap into my throat. I flipped my head around to see not her but Sarah.
Shit, she couldn’t face me and sent a ringer in the form of her overprotective roommate.

“Ethan, how are you doing?”

Hell, how do you think I am doing?
“Fine,” I said with an annoyed frown.

“Dylan sent me to ask you to leave her alone. She has already moved on and found another person to love.”

Part of me died at that moment. She told me she would always love me, and now, she was lying in the arms of someone else.

“She can’t love him.”

“I’m sorry; Ethan, but this person will be the love of her life. She wanted me to give you this and thank you for everything.”

Sarah pushed a note across the table. I picked it up and could smell a trace of Dylan on it. Sarah got up and left. I sat there holding the envelope in my hands, unable to open it. I could have lived with her running when life got to be too much. Fuck, I would have let her beat the hell out of me if it meant she would feel better. But I could never ever let her tell me her final good-byes. She was mine, damn it. I slipped a hundred under my plate, kissed the letter, and placed it on the table. The clock on the wall showed it was fourteen minutes past seven. I would, from that day forward, mark that time as my time of death.

Outside, the skies had opened up and the rain poured down washing the tears from my face. I took off running. I hurt everywhere; the dull ache of my breaking heart ate away at me. I found myself running to her apartment. I had to see her.

The closer I got, the quicker my pace became. The void was overwhelming. I was desperate to see her. She needed to look at me to see what she meant to me. I had to tell her one more time she was the only one that mattered in life.

I paused outside her apartment, it was void of life. Maybe she was asleep. I thought of how angelic she appeared sleeping. I was suddenly struck with the most dreadful thought . . . she was not there at all. A nightmare played in my mind . . . she was with him, the one who might be the love of her life.

Shit, I was nauseous. Jealousy smacked me in the gut. I hated it. It stirred the part of me that I had spent the last year trying to hide. Pain shot through me; it was fucking indescribable. She was gone. The only good in my life had moved on without me. She wasn’t just running; I’d lost her forever. I would never get to hold her hand, kiss her cheek, or hear her laughter again.

She wanted to get away from me, and I couldn’t blame her. I was only a reminder of her past, a sinking anchor, but damn, I would always love her. My heart was ripped from my chest, and I was left with nothing but a nagging, empty hole.

I didn’t even return for my car. I just walked and walked and walked. I had passed by her apartment more times than I cared to remember. I got a glimpse of Sarah entering the apartment about an hour after leaving the restaurant . . .  still not a trace of Dylan. The thought that she had moved on, that she could possibly be in the arms of anybody but me was way too much for my fragile nerves.

I spotted a small bar right across the street from Dylan’s apartment. I would sit outside under the pavilion and watch for her . . . and drink myself into a comma. I was so lost without her. Why did I listen to my fucking heart? If only I had stayed away from her, not ever held her
.
Hell,
I should have let them kill her. I kicked a chair across the room.
NO!
I would never let them touch her. I fucked her life up once, and I would never do that again. If she wanted a good-bye, I would give her one.

“What do you want, handsome?”

I glanced up and caught the smile from a stunning blonde.  She was no Dylan, but she would have caused my dick to stir B.D. (before Dylan). Her breasts spilled out from her blouse, calling out to be touched. That was what I did too. I caressed them with the back of my finger.

“How about a bottle of Jose Cuervo and some salt on that cute little . . .” I reached down and cupped my hand over her groin. She giggled as I licked my upper lip.

“I get off work in two hours and will meet you out back,” she whispered.

I slipped some money in her shirt pocket and winked. I’d be waiting, but it would not be the night of romance she was hoping for. She would get what she wanted but on my terms. I didn’t cuddle. I did once and it about killed me.