Aspen Juniper Veata has only ever known Beacon Hills to be a quiet and dainty town. Herself, along with her best friends Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski, had gone unnoticed by their peers in high school for as long as they could remember. Aspen ha...
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It's as if the truth was a delicate jewel. A jewel, if which tampered with, could be dropped and cracked. Someone will try to fix it, mend it in a way that the crack isn't noticeable. But the damage is done, and the truth is visible. The only way to hide it is by filling it in with a lie. A lie that is so far from the truth but believable enough that you wouldn't bother questioning the difference.
Numbness lulled Aspen's foggy mind the whole trip home, not uttering a word to the girls. They assumed it was because she was exhausted and let it be. But Aspen had to hide her hand from the back seat, for it was seeping with blood where her nails had punctured the palm of her hand. She was in full control, but anger was blinding her reasoning to stay calm. Peter Hale had once again successfully gotten in her head. Twisting the gears to his advantage.
Aspen was standing outside her door, staring at the doorknob as if she had never seen it before. She wondered how many things were on display for her to believe when it actuality, it was just for show. Her finger wrapped around the cold surface of the silver doorknob and pushed the front door open, a creaking echoing in the dimly lit house. Entering the warm interior, she still felt unwelcomed, like she had stepped into the wrong home. Aspen looked around the living room; there were photos of her and her parents spanning from the early ages of her life up until their death. The walls were adorned with art and a large circular mirror with a gold-trimmed accent. Assorted decorations sat on a bookshelf and other places that seemed to fill the room and create a cohesive place for a family to live in. But she didn't have a family. Aspen had only come to the realization that her life was weaved and set for her. It was like a stage, and she was required to play the part of a girl whose parents died.
Grandpa Sam sat at the small table in front of the counter, humming a tune he had heard on the radio. It was only then when he acknowledged his granddaughter's presence with a smile. "Juney, you're back late. How was shopping?" he asked, returning to the game he had set up on the table.
Aspen kept a straight face, his smile not having the same effect on her as it had for the past years. But it didn't stop her eyes from wandering to the table, seeing a redwood slab with holes. "What is that?" she asked, moving toward the table, her shopping bag gripped tightly in her hand as she slowly lowered herself into the seat in front of him.
"I found Beckham's old solitaire board in the attic and thought I'd give it a go. The marbles just came with the kit," he chuckled, gesturing to he colorful marbles laid out on the board. Not even his sweet laugh budged Aspen's flat expression, her eyes only watching her grandfather. Grandpa Same glanced up but had to do a double-take as he noticed Aspen still wearing her gray coat, and her lips were pulled to a frown. "Juney? Are you alright?"
She had devised various scenarios of how she would approach such a touchy conversation. As easy as it sounded, she couldn't grasp the concept of calling the man who raised her a liar. Seeing him seated before her with the most innocent face, it seemed almost impossible. But her blood boiled, and she felt her hand becoming colder by the second.
