Hi guys! Thank you so much for everything! There is some foul language but the whole word is not spelled out. Mind you this is the first time I have used that word in writing. If you guys don't like it, I'll take it down.
8 hours Ago
I hated it.
Her hair was no longer pink.
It was a dirty blond.
"Vicky?" she called, blinking as her eyes narrowed on me.
It's been two months, and a lot has happened in two months.
"Hi," I said, sheepishly, rubbing my neck.
The airport was bustling with business people and flamboyant families whose kids scattered around the carrousel.
She was holding a pink suitcase, her knuckles white.
"Long time no see," she let out a sly smile.
She was still skinny and pretty. But there were bags around her eyes and cracks in her lips.
"Indeed."
I offered to take her bag, but she gestured against it. I glanced around, aware that we would have to take a taxi home.
"How are we getting home?" she asked, unaware she called my house "home."
"Uh, I took a taxi, I think we'll need to take a taxi or Uber."
She nodded and following me as we stepped onto the busy platform.
There was a bitter cold that kissed my cheeks and caused me to hold my jacket tighter. Except it wasn't mine, it was my brother's.
My dead brother.
"How's Edward?" she asked, seemingly nonchalant.
Nervous, I looked away.
I didn't dare tell her the truth.
Except, I couldn't lie, because once we get, home-she'll realize the truth.
Slowly, I returned to her attention.
Her eyes sparkled, too hopeful.
"Em," I gently rested my hand on hers. Her hand was warm, her nails painted black.
"What..." she said, suspiciously.
"He's dead." I blurted, breaking inside. My eyes were flowing over with tears at this point. My whole body throbbed at the truth.
Through my blurred vision, I watched Emmarie's eyes glaze over in shock.
This was it. She was going to break, bad ass Emmarie was going to break.
We'd be two sobbing messes standing outside the luggage area of the airport.
But, she didn't. She squeezed my hand, stroking my knuckles.
"Why...why aren't you crying?" I muttered.
"Because, I know he's dead. I'm sick of crying over him," she swallowed hard.
How could she be this emotionless?
My brother was dead. He killed himself.
I didn't speak, but let the blurry lights dot around my vision.
Time Lapse
Emmarie's finger dusted off the framed photograph.
It was the one about Emmarie, Edward, and I in Disneyland.
YOU ARE READING
Laced Lies
Short Story#824 in S.S I, Victoria Adams, almost never lie. In fact I've only told 10 lies in my life. But it was those 10 lies that ended it all: 1. My dog ate my homework 2. I don't have a crush on Elliot Ways ...
