Don't Lie To Me ✓ [2018 Version]

chapter nine + ten = twenty one

B A B Y

In the amount of time I've been standing in this boathouse, I'm actually regretting even blurting it out in the first place. I mean, its private to me, and mostly to my parents who are probably hoping to god that I'll never tell another soul.

Oopies on my part.

But hopefully they don't find out I throw it out of my mouth because I swear the longer I only know of what they've trained me to do, the more stressful it'd become to even keep. Especially when being in a situation where I'm being assault in a dark alleyway with spine chilling winds blowing in through the threads of my clothes.

What am I supposed to do then? Give the guy whatever he wants, anything, like literally anything, meaning me, myself? No! I wouldn't want to let someone take advantage of me because I seemed defenseless and naïve.

I would like to think that my parents only taught me the things they taught because of self-defense, but in truth I honestly doubt it was the reason to being with. None of what they taught me felt like it was to defend myself in a tough pickle that appeared to have no way out.

It just really seems unlikely that it was to protect me. It really does.

"Shooting? As in guns?" He asked astonished, staring with wide eyes as big as the moon.

"Yeah," I say scratching my neck now, staring at everything else but him, butterflies flying in my stomach as the thought of regretting started to occur. But I really didn't want to leave him in the complete dark with that information.

"Can we sit down?" I ask breaking the intense silence, not bearing to look at him as embarrassment started to creep in.

"Guns?" He repeats again, sounding extremely confused. I'm glad we're on the same page but I've been confused about it most of my life.

"They taught you to use guns? At what age?" He was almost shouting in shock, it was freaking me out, afraid he might start breaking anything at arms reach.

Maybe I shouldn't go that far into the past?

I looked at him still staring at me with furrow brows, glancing at every aspect of my features.

"Ah, not when I started highschool," I say. "It was before then."

"Back it up a little bit, so you're actually trained?" He asked, still in a state of shock and flabbergasted.

I shrugged, "if you call that being trained, sure."

"What?!" He said a little loudly, hobbling into the big lounge room next to us. I followed him, staying at least ten steps behind to be sure he won't explode.

He then sat down on the corner couch, running his hands through his dark chocolate hair in frustration, groaning deeply in his throat, trying to comprehend everything I blurted. I didn't want to keep it in forever, having it stay in the dark corners of my abilities.