The Lies That Shadow Us

Chapter One

  Death. One simple word. One word that had changed my life irrevocably. It was a simple word that had torn my life apart so quickly that I still couldn't grasp it. I stood half-naked in the middle of my bedroom, still in my towel.

My wet hair, usually a fiery auburn, now a dark molten red, almost black, hung down my front, covering my full breasts. Water droplets dripped on the cold hardwood floor, leaving a small puddle.

The air was freezing, but I couldn't, for the life of me, feel it; I couldn't feel anything. It was terrible again. Or I supposed it never stopped being bad; I had just become numb and hollow. But now I needed to get ready for school, and reality loomed.

Dread curled in my gut, and I felt like vomiting. I hadn't spoken to anyone other than my father and brother since the funeral. My mother's funeral. Hot tears stung my eyes, and I had to shut them and take a deep breath so they wouldn't tumble down my pale, freckled face.

Crying was all I did for the first few weeks. I had thought the well of my tears had dried up but if I'm being honest with myself, I don't think it ever will. Just last year, my mother was alive and fluttering into my room with arms full of clothes to try on for the first day of junior year.

We had always shared everything, and nobody knew me like my mom did. I loved my brother Liam with my entire being as well as my father but she knew my heart better than even I did. Now she was gone, and I was alone. I knew I wasn't completely but that ache of loneliness wouldn't dissipate.

My father's voice sounded from downstairs, telling me to come down and eat breakfast. Slowly, I turned to my small closet and pulled on the brown harmonica doors. I dried off and wore a black band T-shirt and blue jean cargo pants. My hair, now damp, was like a mop on my head and sprawled down my lower back, curls already visible.

I didn't bother drying or brushing it out; my hair was always wild. It was one of the reasons my mother had called me her wildflower. Sadness welled inside me once more as I glanced at the wildflowers my mom had painted on my favorite pair of Converse. I slipped them on my small feet gently.

Scooping my backpack up from the corner of my desk, I walked out, causing the dread I felt earlier to rage further. I walked into the small, cozy brown kitchen. The stained glass window above the sink cast a deep purple light on the room.

My father had a full breakfast on the olive green island, fluttering as usual. A myriad of scents filled my nostrils, and I was instantly hungry. Fluffy eggs scrambled and sunny side up, apple-wood smoked bacon, double chocolate chip pancakes, an assortment of sliced fruit, and orange juice covered the cream marble island top.

I pulled out a wooden chair and sat; my twin brother, Liam, was already stuffing his face with food. His silky straight hair was still mussed from sleep as he repeatedly brought his mouth down to his fork full of food.

Liam and I were fraternal twins, so although we looked a lot alike, we still had physical differences. Where my hair was wild and curly, Liam's was straight. Even our eye color was different. His was a light amber, and mine was an emerald green. Only our hair color was the same shade of auburn and our countless freckles.

"Morning Lily Bean. Eat quickly so we're not all late on the first day, please." My father's use of my childhood nickname brought a sense of lightness to my chest. I'd always loved the name he had chosen for me. I was barely able to stand on chubby legs then based on the countless baby pictures they had gone through.

Dad taught at the local high school. Paradise was very small, so naturally there was only one high school, Paradise Bay High. He was a history teacher and also taught myth and legends. It was that passion for history actually that contributed to how he had met my mother.