Whispered Lies

Whispered Lies

By Kristin Vayden

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2015 by Kristin Vayden

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

WHISPERED LIES

Copyright © 2015 by Kristin Vayden

ISBN 978-0-692-38677-4

All rights reserved.

Dedication

Momma, this book is for you. Because you were the first person who helped me figure out the power of grace, and the freedom it brings. I love you more.

PROLOGUE

Watching her from across the room was the most perfect torture. As much as I wanted her, I knew she'd never be mine. So I allowed myself to simply burn, experiencing the pain as a reminder that she was close, but also a warning that she was almost too close. The thin line that existed was the tightrope I walked each day; yet, like an addict, I continued to push the limit, just waiting, hoping against the impossibility.

Class ended, and I stood up, still watching her from the corner of my eye. She was graceful in a way I doubted anyone else noticed. Every movement was a fluid part of the previous one that transitioned effortlessly into the second, the third, till her every motion became part of the dance. The rest of the day went by like a boring litany that continued forever. I tapped my pen on my notebook and then realized the professor was glaring at me. Setting the pen down, I turned my attention to the clock, mentally calculating the seconds it would take till I was free. When class was finally released, I was first out the door, my eyes scanning the crowd eagerly, searching for her.

After all, the heart always wants what it can never have. I knew she'd never look at me twice.

But that didn't stop my heart from beating for her.

You see, I’m not the good guy.

On the outside, I might look like it.

But it’s a lie.

It’s all a lie.

There’s nothing redeemable about me.

Except for her.

But I’m the last person she’d ever want to be with.

Because I’m the reason he died. My fault.

But she doesn’t know it was me.

Atonement is my only salvation.

Protecting her, because I finally fell.

And the monster she needed protection from…

Is me.

CHAPTER ONE

Alder

I watched her till her golden hair disappeared into the sea of humanity conducting its mass exodus from the building. The history department was the largest part of the small community college in Walker. With only a few weeks left of classes, people were always scrambling to leave, get a taste of summer’s freedom.

There wouldn’t be any freedom for me. But I never expected it. You can’t be disappointed when there was no expectation in the first place.

Hitching my shoulder, I heaved my messenger bag higher, feeling the weight of my laptop pull on the leather strap. As the crowds dispersed, I headed down the sidewalk and to the parking lot. After starting my older F-150, I began to put it in reverse when I noticed movement from the corner of my eye. Jayne. She was almost running to the building, her hair catching the warm sunshine and reflecting its glow.

It hurt to watch her, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away. So I stared, watching her pull the glass door open and disappear. When she returned, I was waiting, watching, as she carried her pink backpack and wore a relieved grin. What would it be like to have her smile at me like that? My heart stuttered at the thought, and for a fleeting moment, I dreamed. Then I shoved the damned dream into the farthest recesses of my mind. The park of me I kept locked away.

As I drove to the student complex to get my mail, I fumbled around for my hat, relieved to be able to wear it. During class, I was required to take it off, but any other time I wore it, using it to hide. I wasn’t ashamed of that fact either. The less people noticed me, the better. The shadows were my security, and I was all right with that. After all, when people knew you, they knew your history. And I sure as hell didn’t want them knowing mine.

Keeping my head down, I walked to my mailbox and unlocked it, taking out the envelopes and scanning them for anything mildly interesting. One caught my eye, and I knew exactly what it was. Opening it swiftly, I glanced around to make sure I was alone then read:

Mr. Jacobs,

We are notifying you, per your request, that the scholarship you sponsored is due for renewal. Please notify our office immediately if you wish to contribute toward it for the next school year.

Regards,

Alice Sinclair

Assistant to the Dean

I tucked the letter into the back pocket of my jeans, making a mental note to contact the office first thing in the morning. Because while there would never be redemption for my mistakes, that didn’t mean I had to stop trying.

After making it back to my apartment, I tossed my messenger bag on the couch, shrugged off my sweatshirt, and tossed my hat next to it. The sterile white of the apartment walls was stark, somehow accenting the barren landscape of my living room. It wasn’t as if I didn’t have the money to have it furnished well; I just didn’t see the point. I was the only one, aside from my amigo, Raphael, whoever darkened the door. With a heavy sigh, I entered the small kitchen and took out leftover pizza from the night before. Foregoing the microwave, I set the cardboard box on the bar and ate it cold. Hauling my ass to bed after my homework was easily done. I was exhausted, but that was common for me. When you fight battles between your heart and mind all day, it tends to wear you out. Jayne’s face was the last thing I remembered before falling asleep…

Everything was blurry, moving in slow motion. I saw the guardrails but couldn’t get my body to respond. Every action was delayed, including my breathing, but I was too drugged to care. Strange, but I remember counting the wooden slats in the guardrail just before I hit it, counting all the way to eight.

As the sound of crunching metal reached my ears, I felt weightless, floating as my body swayed and jerked with the abrupt slamming of my car. There was no pain, just a faint revelation that I had hit the protective barrier that stopped me from careening over the edge of the ravine. Belatedly, I noticed I was spinning.

But in my dream, I was now outside of the car, watching it not spin, but flip and travel into another vehicle. The sickening sound of crunching metal and screeching brakes filled my dream. Adrenaline tasted metallic in my mouth. I tried to run, get to the accident, and save the other driver, but my feet were stuck. I glanced down and saw they were embedded in the asphalt. I cried out, yelling for myself to wake up, get out, and help the other driver, but each time I tried to scream it was silent. The sound of sirens rent the air, and I peered down the road, praying for them to get there faster. To save him…

The ambulance arrived, and EMTs rushed to the scene. A faint scent of gasoline peppered the air. They began to pull my body out of the wreck. I yelled at them to forget about me, but my voice was gone. They didn’t even glance in my direction.

Two more EMTs struggled to get the other passenger free. Their expressions were strained as they sliced through the seatbelt. One glance. All it took was one glance at each other, and I knew they were already too late. One shook his head.

His mangled body was transported to the hospital where he died shortly after.

Tears streamed down my face, and I reached up to wipe them away. But as my hands reached up, I noticed they were sticky with blood. Not mine. But the other driver’s… Creston’s.

Gasping, I shot up from my bed, blinking against the darkness, still smelling the blood and gasoline from the wreck. Wiping my hands on my sheets, I tried to erase the memory, the haze of my nightmare… that was far too true. I could feel my heart pounding with regret. With each beat, it reminded me that I was alive… and he wasn’t. And because he wasn’t, I’d never redeem myself enough to be worthy of the one thing I wanted more than anything. Her heart.

****

Jayne

It was too much. My pillow was wet as tears left over from my nightmare streamed down my face. I turned on my back and swiped the damp hair away from my face as I took in hiccupping breaths. Why couldn’t I just forget? Move on. It’s not that I wanted to forget my twin brother; I just wanted to forget the pain of losing him. My last nightmare had been too real, but that might have been because they had actually decreased in frequency. To think I had believed I was getting better.

It sucked to be proven wrong.

It was too early, but I knew I wouldn’t get back to sleep, so I got up, feeling the cushiony carpet under my slippers. I yawned, forcing my body to relax as I padded down the hall to the kitchen. Hopefully, the aroma of coffee wouldn’t wake up my roommate. A faint light from the streetlamp streamed into the kitchen, eliminating the need for me to turn on the florescent one overhead. As the coffee began to pour through the filter, I inhaled deeply, letting the comforting scent overwhelm me. After my second cup, it was light enough to go outside, so I put on my jogging leggings and hoodie then grabbed my iPod and set out the door.

As my feet began the familiar rhythm of pounding the sidewalk, my thoughts drifted to Creston. He would have been twenty-one this year on our birthday. It was such a waste to have someone so free, so young and with so much potential, lose his life too early. We were only seventeen. Seventeen years wasn’t enough to have with my brother, my twin brother. We weren’t like other siblings who fought or argued. Nope. We had been the type who finished each other’s sentences and were best friends. When no one asked me to prom, Creston bowed out of his date and took me. At least once a week, he’d forgotten his wallet, and I’d always made sure I had enough for both of us to eat. If not, I’d lie and give my lunch to him. It was just natural for us to take care of the other.

Which is why it hurt so bad that he was gone. I was alone. If some guy broke my heart, Creston wouldn’t be there to break his nose, then turn around and help me put the pieces back together. While my dad would be more than willing to step in and defend my honor, it just wasn’t the same. I was close to my parents, but never that close. Creston was it… he was my other half. My lungs began to burn as I realized how fast I had been running. As if something were chasing me.

I stopped, bent down, and took in large gasps of breath. Creston was gone. Though I knew it, I struggled with accepting it. As if fighting the truth would be enough for God to give him back. I gave a humorless laugh at my own stupidity. What was worse was the guy that killed him was free.

Anger replaced my pain, and I stood up, beginning to run again, letting it push me further. As a minor, he had been given a lighter sentence. The judge had also taken into account that he’d had a weird drug interaction which had completely disabled him while driving. Who knew taking allergy meds could give you an allergic reaction? Not me… and apparently not him. But it didn’t save my brother.

I shook my head, trying to clear it from the swirling emotions overwhelming me far too early in the morning. I fast-forwarded through the memories to the lawyer calling us and letting us know about the sentencing. We couldn’t go, couldn’t look at the man — the boy — who had taken something so precious from us. I didn’t want to know his name, his face, nothing. My parents had tried to tell me, but I wouldn’t let them. I wanted nothing to do with him. If he didn’t have a face or a name, then he was a ghost. Just like he had rendered my brother when his car had hit Creston’s. You can’t forgive some things. But that was three–and-a-half years ago… and I was surviving. Someday, I’d thrive. It would just take time. And like my run, I’d get there one step at a time. As I turned the corner to my building, I ran up the three flights of stairs and opened the apartment door.

You’re up early, Claire mumbled over her cup of coffee, her eyes barely open as she studied me.

Couldn’t sleep. I shrugged, heading to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

Yeah well, I couldn’t wake up.

Really? I teased.

Shut up. I swear I would have never let you be my roommate if I’d known you were such a morning person. So annoying. She mumbled.

You’d be lost without my bright smile in the morning.

Yeah… Claire yawned. …I doubt it. But you are a great cook. Therefore, you may stay.

Gee, thanks, I remarked sarcastically as I plopped on the couch next to her.

Did you already have coffee?

Yes… thus why the pot was ready for you.

The coffee is always ready for me. We’ve been roommates for two years. When, I ask, have I ever been up before you?

Uh… actually...

That’s what I thought. Never. As in ever. She made a slicing motion with her hand, causing the messy bun of dark-chocolate-colored hair to flop haphazardly on her head.

I bumped her shoulder, teasing her.

You spill the coffee… I will attack. One and only warning.

Yes, ma’am.

Claire grumbled something I couldn’t understand.

Hurry up and wake up… I hate it when you’re all grouchy. No fun. Whatsoever.

Yeah, yeah, I’m taking a shower. When I’m done, I’ll be a bit nicer… probably no more fun… but nicer. She grinned and stumbled toward the bathroom. Claire had to take sleeping meds, which left her absolutely worthless in the mornings. It was better than before, though. A year ago she would have only gotten two hours of sleep. At least now she got six or seven hours, and she might not wake up fast, but when she did, she was a lot better off. So was everyone else around her.

I placed my cup in the dishwasher and went to my room. My wheat-blond hair had a crease in it from my sloppy ponytail I’d worn during my run, so I couldn’t wear it down unless I wanted to take a shower. After debating for a moment, I just pulled it back into a side braid and tucked the stray bangs behind my ears. Banging on the bathroom door, I