I lay staring at the roof of the cellar. The thought
resonating in my head is simple. How could things possibly get any worse?
Immediately, as though in answer to this half-formed
thought, I hear a vehicle pull up outside. My host has returned. And even
though I know who it is, I can’t help but wish for just one minute that someone
else has arrived at this nondescript house that was nevertheless the scene of
my many childhood adventures. Someone else. Anyone else.
But I hear the familiar click of the heels above me,
and I know that my hope is in vain. Anxiously, I strain my ears to figure out
which direction she’s moving in. The bathroom would be fine, the kitchen even
better, but no. My heart sinks as that repetitive rhythm comes closer to the
door shut tight above the stairs to my left.
There isn’t even a lock on the door. A lock isn’t
necessary. It swings opens with little noise, and I close my eyes against the
sudden light, not wanting a repeat of the pain from last time. I can still hear
her anyways, walking carefully down the cellar stairs. Again, I vow to myself
that if she would just come a little closer this time, I can overpower her,
somehow get free from my bonds. It’s a lie, I know, but right now, it’s all
that I have to cling to.
She is standing on the hard, cement floor that I am
now reacquainted with so thoroughly. When I can finally see her, I am horrified
to discover that there is a child in her arms, awake but silent, tear tracks
still wet on his cheeks and eyes very wide.
“No,” I whisper, or try to, but not even my own ears
can pick up the sound that passes my lips. I repeat myself, this time a mere
breath louder. “No.”
“Isn’t he precious?” she beams at me, a small but
genuine smile forming on her lips. She runs one hand through the silent child’s
hair and then drops a kiss onto his forehead before she sets him down. He stays
where he’s put, curling his arms around his legs and cuddling them close to his
chest. The light hits just right so that I can now see the bruise already darkening
over one of those blue eyes. The sight doesn’t surprise me, but still, a low
coil of dread writhes in my stomach.
"When does lying for someone else's sake become lying for your own? How far is too far, or is the liar damned right from the beginning?
A chilling tale of the cost of lying, both to others and, especially, to ourselves.
Want to find out what happens next? Check out this story on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08PCM1RNT.
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