Checkmate

36| The truth sets you free

I manage to keep the tears back the whole ride home. I don't know how – it seems an impossible feat – but somehow, I make it across the immaculate lawn and over to my house without shedding a single tear.

The hard part is sneaking in undetected. As soon as my mother looks at me, she'll know something is wrong the way mothers always seem to, and that's the last thing I want.

What would I even say? That the boy I've been lying to you about for weeks betrayed me? That my ex is a psychopath hellbent on ruining my life? Or the one thing that would horrify my parents the most: I'm not the perfect daughter. Somehow, admitting those things out loud feels worse than having to live them, so I'd rather avoid it altogether.

After turning the key, I push the door just enough to slip through the gap and click it closed behind me. The hallway remains quiet and still through the dark, as though everyone's asleep. After waiting a moment, I tiptoe to my bedroom, peel off my clothes, and crawl into bed. Until now, I've been operating on autopilot, keeping it together until I'd made it safely home. It's only now, buried under the safety of the covers, that I let out a breath-stealing sob.

They roll in quick succession, each one more powerful than the last. I fight for breath, gasping and crying as parts of that video play on a loop in my head. I thought things couldn't get any worse after what happened with Chase, but I couldn't have been more wrong. Getting to know Blake, falling for him – it's been the worst thing of all.

At some point, the tears run dry as I cradle the duvet, tired yet unable to sleep. Despite knowing he won't, I check my phone to see if Blake messaged, but there's nothing – no sorry, no begging, just a notification from my Fitbit that it's almost time for bed.

I throw my phone aside and convince myself it's for the best. Blake and I would never have worked in the long run. We're too different. Once the initial attraction wore off, there wouldn't be anything keeping us together. Really, I should be grateful things ended like this.

I am.

When it looks like sleeping isn't an option, I pull out my campaign book and flip through the pages in some masochistic attempt at distracting my racing thoughts. Part of me wants to feign sickness next week until the whole thing is over. Maybe it's cowardly, but I can't bear the idea of standing on that stage like everything is fine. Blake was supposed to be in my corner, the one person who understood how much this meant to me, but instead, he'd used that against me.

I put the book down and curl on my side like I used to do as a kid. My mind won't stop racing, combing through every moment with Blake like it's looking for clues. At what moment did he break off his deal? Which parts of us were genuine, and which were fake? It's like everything has become too tangled, tainted by his secret.

Destroyed.

Somehow, despite the odds, I fall into a dreamless sleep. When I wake, it's to my mother's shrill voice shouting for me to dress and come downstairs. Confused by the commotion, I quickly slip on a hoodie and sweatpants before heading to the kitchen. My mother is at the breakfast table with a cup of coffee and the oats before her untouched. Dad is here, too, sitting beside her and looking somewhat uncertain. Something is wrong.

Slowly, I pull out the barstool and sit at the table, hands folded in my lap. There's only one thing this impromptu meeting could be about, but I don't want to believe it. I don't want to believe that the same weekend my world crashes is the weekend my parents find out I've been lying; there is no way life is that cruel.

"What's wrong?" I ask. It's a testament to my acting skills that my voice comes out steady. If it weren't for the rapid pounding in my chest, I'd think this were any other morning.