Page 50
Story: Betrayed
Sunny’s gone andIknowI’mnever getting her back.
30
SUNNY
“Go clean yourself up—you’re disgusting!”Charlesmakes a revolted face as he looks at me, standing there in the middle of the living room.
“Yes, all right,”Isay mechanically.Ifeel likeI’min shock for now but any minuteI’mgoing to break down.It’slike someone shot me through the heart andIhaven’t quite realizedI’mdead yet.
I wander out of the living room in a daze.Ican’t believe this—it can’t be true!Butit is—it feels like a terrible dream but every timeIpinch myselfIdon’t wake up.BecauseI’malready awake and this is the awful reality of my life.
It hits me asIstep into the shower—Idon’t even know his real name.Theman pretending to beKane—Idon’t know who he is.AndnowIguessI’llnever know.
How could he fool me like that?Iwas such an idiot, believing he was my brother!Whoeverhe is, he’s been lying to me foryears.Stealingthe lettersIsent to the realKaneand answering them.Howcould he do that to me?Whatkind of sick bastard pretends for so long to be someone else?
I rememberCharles’sother accusation—that the man is a murderer and that’s why he went to prison.Thethought makes me shiver with fear.Tothink,Iwas sleeping with him—Ihad him in my bed!Hecould have killed me in my sleep!
AsIwash myself off and watch the stranger’s seed get washed down the drain,Ifeel sick.Iguess there’s one bright spot in this whole mess.IfIdoturn out to be pregnant, at least it won’t be my brother’s baby.
Actually,Ican’t believe everythingIdid with him while thinking he was my brother.WhattheHellis wrong with me?It’slikeIwas under a spell.Iwent further and further with him—let’s be real,Iactually let him fuck me!WhywouldIdo that?WhydidIthink it was okay?
Because he never felt like your brother,whispers a little voice in my head.Andit’s true.Ifelt an intense attraction to him—to the stranger—but my emotions for him weren’t familial in any way.Maybedeep down,Iknew he wasn’t really related to me.Iguess that’s whyIallowed myself to go so far with him.
But what ifI’mpregnant?Pregnantwith a murderer’s baby?Allthat crap he told me about howIprobably couldn’t get knocked up unless he was “knotting” me must be a lie too, right?Andthen sayingIwas one of his “people”—whatever that means—whileIwas kicking him out.Anotherlie.Allof it, lies.
I feel likeImight puke.
By the timeIleave the shower,Charlesis gone.Atleast he locked the door behind him.I’mguessing he andIare over now—not thatIcare.Ijust hope he doesn’t start spreading rumors about me around town.Whatwould the rest ofSingingRockthink of me if they knewI’dbeen fucking a manIthought was my brother?Mylife here would be over.
I have to stop thinking like this.IwishIcould stop thinking at all.Itake out the bottle of sleeping pillsIusually only use once in a while.Ipour a whole handful out into my hand…
ThenIput all but two of them back.I’mnot going to let this break me!Otherwomen have been fooled by con artists before.Iwatched a whole documentary last week about a woman who sent her entire life’s savings to some guy who contacted her onFaceBookand pretended to be in love with her.Shedidn’t get a cent of it back, but she didn’t kill herself.
“I’m not going to let this break me,”Isay out loud. “Iwillget through it.”
I take the two pills and get into bed.I’mnot going to cry,Itell myself.I’mjust going to go to sleep.WhenIwake up tomorrow, it will be a new day andI’llbe fine.
But the bed feels so big and empty without him—without the stranger who pretended to beKane.Hewas only in my life for a few days—less than a week—so why does it hurt so bad now that he’s gone?Whydoes it feel like he carved out my heart with a dull knife and took it with him when he left?
I can’t help myself—Istart to cry.Isob myself to sleep, wishingIwas dead, knowingI’llnever see him again.
31
CONNOR
The trip back toFairlaneis a bleak one and it passes in a kind of dark blur.Partof that is becauseI’mdriving at night but part of it is becauseI’mso fucking depressed.TheWolfinside me howls mournfully and insists that we’re leaving our mate behind.Wehave to go back –we have to go get her!
I try to shut him up but it’s not easy.HowcanIexplain such a complicated problem to the most simple and straightforward part of myself?Ican’t—theWolfis miserable, even more miserable than me, if that’s possible.
I can’t help thinking of my time withSunny—running through the few precious days and nightsIspent with her over and over in my mind.HowcouldIfuck it up so badly?Whydidn’tItell her right away thatIwasn’tKane?Ishould have explained everything right from the start.Hell,Ishould have explained it in my very first letter.
But it’s too late now—it’s all too late.She’sgone and there’s no getting her back—I’mfucking sure of that.
WhenIfinally get back to the mansion,Ijust sit in the driveway for a while.Thisis my family home—a beautifulGeorgianRevivalstyle set on top of a hill with rolling parklands all around.There’sa stable on the grounds—my mom and my sister both loved riding—as well as anOlympicsized swimming pool, a tennis court, a movie theater, and a two-lane bowling alley.It’sopulent…but empty—Ihave no one to share it with.
At lastIget out of the truck.Ifumble with my keys before remembering that we had just changed the locks to faceIDscanners beforeIwent to prison.Ilook into the camera for a long time and from several different angles before the lock finally clicks open.Yeah,IknowIlook different.Ididn’t have the scar on my face the last timeIwas here.Orthe scars on my heart.
Inside everything feels musty and unused, even thoughIknow thatBransonhas maids comes in once a week to air the place out.AllIsee are ghosts—ghosts of myMomandDadand of my little sister,Bethany.They’reall gone now—Ihave the place to myself, onlyIdon’t want it.
30
SUNNY
“Go clean yourself up—you’re disgusting!”Charlesmakes a revolted face as he looks at me, standing there in the middle of the living room.
“Yes, all right,”Isay mechanically.Ifeel likeI’min shock for now but any minuteI’mgoing to break down.It’slike someone shot me through the heart andIhaven’t quite realizedI’mdead yet.
I wander out of the living room in a daze.Ican’t believe this—it can’t be true!Butit is—it feels like a terrible dream but every timeIpinch myselfIdon’t wake up.BecauseI’malready awake and this is the awful reality of my life.
It hits me asIstep into the shower—Idon’t even know his real name.Theman pretending to beKane—Idon’t know who he is.AndnowIguessI’llnever know.
How could he fool me like that?Iwas such an idiot, believing he was my brother!Whoeverhe is, he’s been lying to me foryears.Stealingthe lettersIsent to the realKaneand answering them.Howcould he do that to me?Whatkind of sick bastard pretends for so long to be someone else?
I rememberCharles’sother accusation—that the man is a murderer and that’s why he went to prison.Thethought makes me shiver with fear.Tothink,Iwas sleeping with him—Ihad him in my bed!Hecould have killed me in my sleep!
AsIwash myself off and watch the stranger’s seed get washed down the drain,Ifeel sick.Iguess there’s one bright spot in this whole mess.IfIdoturn out to be pregnant, at least it won’t be my brother’s baby.
Actually,Ican’t believe everythingIdid with him while thinking he was my brother.WhattheHellis wrong with me?It’slikeIwas under a spell.Iwent further and further with him—let’s be real,Iactually let him fuck me!WhywouldIdo that?WhydidIthink it was okay?
Because he never felt like your brother,whispers a little voice in my head.Andit’s true.Ifelt an intense attraction to him—to the stranger—but my emotions for him weren’t familial in any way.Maybedeep down,Iknew he wasn’t really related to me.Iguess that’s whyIallowed myself to go so far with him.
But what ifI’mpregnant?Pregnantwith a murderer’s baby?Allthat crap he told me about howIprobably couldn’t get knocked up unless he was “knotting” me must be a lie too, right?Andthen sayingIwas one of his “people”—whatever that means—whileIwas kicking him out.Anotherlie.Allof it, lies.
I feel likeImight puke.
By the timeIleave the shower,Charlesis gone.Atleast he locked the door behind him.I’mguessing he andIare over now—not thatIcare.Ijust hope he doesn’t start spreading rumors about me around town.Whatwould the rest ofSingingRockthink of me if they knewI’dbeen fucking a manIthought was my brother?Mylife here would be over.
I have to stop thinking like this.IwishIcould stop thinking at all.Itake out the bottle of sleeping pillsIusually only use once in a while.Ipour a whole handful out into my hand…
ThenIput all but two of them back.I’mnot going to let this break me!Otherwomen have been fooled by con artists before.Iwatched a whole documentary last week about a woman who sent her entire life’s savings to some guy who contacted her onFaceBookand pretended to be in love with her.Shedidn’t get a cent of it back, but she didn’t kill herself.
“I’m not going to let this break me,”Isay out loud. “Iwillget through it.”
I take the two pills and get into bed.I’mnot going to cry,Itell myself.I’mjust going to go to sleep.WhenIwake up tomorrow, it will be a new day andI’llbe fine.
But the bed feels so big and empty without him—without the stranger who pretended to beKane.Hewas only in my life for a few days—less than a week—so why does it hurt so bad now that he’s gone?Whydoes it feel like he carved out my heart with a dull knife and took it with him when he left?
I can’t help myself—Istart to cry.Isob myself to sleep, wishingIwas dead, knowingI’llnever see him again.
31
CONNOR
The trip back toFairlaneis a bleak one and it passes in a kind of dark blur.Partof that is becauseI’mdriving at night but part of it is becauseI’mso fucking depressed.TheWolfinside me howls mournfully and insists that we’re leaving our mate behind.Wehave to go back –we have to go get her!
I try to shut him up but it’s not easy.HowcanIexplain such a complicated problem to the most simple and straightforward part of myself?Ican’t—theWolfis miserable, even more miserable than me, if that’s possible.
I can’t help thinking of my time withSunny—running through the few precious days and nightsIspent with her over and over in my mind.HowcouldIfuck it up so badly?Whydidn’tItell her right away thatIwasn’tKane?Ishould have explained everything right from the start.Hell,Ishould have explained it in my very first letter.
But it’s too late now—it’s all too late.She’sgone and there’s no getting her back—I’mfucking sure of that.
WhenIfinally get back to the mansion,Ijust sit in the driveway for a while.Thisis my family home—a beautifulGeorgianRevivalstyle set on top of a hill with rolling parklands all around.There’sa stable on the grounds—my mom and my sister both loved riding—as well as anOlympicsized swimming pool, a tennis court, a movie theater, and a two-lane bowling alley.It’sopulent…but empty—Ihave no one to share it with.
At lastIget out of the truck.Ifumble with my keys before remembering that we had just changed the locks to faceIDscanners beforeIwent to prison.Ilook into the camera for a long time and from several different angles before the lock finally clicks open.Yeah,IknowIlook different.Ididn’t have the scar on my face the last timeIwas here.Orthe scars on my heart.
Inside everything feels musty and unused, even thoughIknow thatBransonhas maids comes in once a week to air the place out.AllIsee are ghosts—ghosts of myMomandDadand of my little sister,Bethany.They’reall gone now—Ihave the place to myself, onlyIdon’t want it.
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