Page 67 of Bitter Lies

But on the other side of it is peace because I’ve come to realize that I can’t change us. We’re all damned, and I have to let go of what I continue to cling to.

And with this catharsis, I settle in and paint, adding the images on the wall as they tell a story I can’t bring myself to say out loud.

Jason, in the form of an evil hyena with his lackeys around him, leering over a broken girl lying on the ground, hiding her shame in her hands, the gold strands of a delicate necklace peeking through her fingers.

By the time the week is through, I’ve painted half the walls, and with a fatalistic shrug, I close up the paints and collapse into bed, not emerging until Monday morning when pounding sounds at my door.

“Get up! I don’t have time for this shit,” Max growls through the door.

Rolling my eyes, I open the door and duck from the fist raised to pound again.

Looking me over with distaste, he grunts, “Let’s go.”

Glancing at the clock, I look to him with a frown. “It’s not even 7:00 a.m.”

“Whatever, I’ve got things to do…” He trails off, his eyes widening as he takes in the room and the walls decorated in the scenes I’ve been creating.

Now that they cover the walls and not just the first scene by the door, they’re hard to miss.

“What the fuck did you do?” He pushes past me, knocking me in the shoulder as he enters before turning in a circle.

“Nothing,” I say lamely, flinching when he swings toward me with an incredulous expression.

“You’re fucking crazy. That’s it. I’m calling Mom.”

“No!” I cry out, grabbing his arm.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he says, pulling away roughly.

“No, Max! You can’t! If you—if you call Mom, I’ll tell her,” I say tremulously, backing up a step when he looms in my face.

“What did you just say?”

“You heard me.” Damning my shaky voice, I stare into the eyes of my brother, but I don’t recognize him anymore.

As I suspect he doesn’t recognize me.

“You little bitch,” he breathes, grabbing my arm.

Wincing, I pull away, but he just holds me tighter.

“You think you can threaten me?”

“It’s not a threat, but I’m not going to sit by while you tattle on me when you’ve got your own damn secrets.”

With a grimace, he pushes me away. “Fuck you.”

Stumbling back, I hit the bed and sit down, staring at him with wide eyes as he approaches, but we both pause when the front door opens and closes. Max is still glaring at me with hate-filled eyes when Griffin pauses outside my door. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Max says, turning and pushing past him.

Refusing to glance up, I wait for what feels like forever before Griffin, too, walks away, relieved when he doesn’t mention the paintings and, if I’m honest, disappointed at the same time.

This is my truth, and maybe I defaced the walls, but the suffering bleeding through the scenes is real, except no one is acknowledging it but me. Sometimes I feel fucking invisible, but maybe I have no one but myself to blame. After all, no one truly knows what’s behind the mask, so how could they begin to see?

With a sigh, I gather my things and follow Max out to his car shortly after. He doesn’t mention our altercation, and neither do I, walking away grimly when he drops me at the clinic.

Chapter Nineteen

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