She Lies Twisted Read Online Free Page B
Memorial Bridge. I had climbed through one of the holes in the chain link fencing that the city put up to keep bums away and sat with my back against a stone wall. Steel support beams loomed above me like giants and shook with the passing of cars while a murder of crows pecked at one another and flapped around, fighting for the garbage that littered the pebble strewn path.
I felt empty and full all at once. It was like there was this place in my heart where Boyd had been and when he'd died, he'd taken that piece of me with him. At the same time, all of my emotions and thoughts weighed down on my stooping shoulders, seeping into me and filling me with this unbearable sense of despair. Weighted and barren. Heavy and formless. The saddest part was, I was used to feeling like this. When Mom had died, I felt this way. Dad. Jason. Abe. Jessica.
“ I have nobody,” I said and jumped when my words echoed back at me. Nobody, nobody, nobody. The crows screamed back at me in protest.
“ Not nobody,” Boyd had said as he rubbed my back in little circles when I'd told him about my sister. “You've got me.” I punched the chain link fence and cursed when the snipped wires sliced open the soft skin between my knuckles. Drops of blood bloomed on the gashes and swelled before leaking down the sides of my hand and splattering across the stones. I couldn't stop myself from staring, from watching the blood drain from me the way it had drained from Boyd before. And he's not the only one. You've seen it before. Jessica's face pale and the yellow sink red and the way she draped across the toilet with her hair wet and tinged pink from the dark water that swirled like ink.
I screamed and screamed and screamed until my voice went hoarse and the sounds of my despair played back at me from the stone walls like a curse.
I slept under the bridge that night and dreamed about Boyd and Jessica. I was back in my bedroom and they were standing over me. Jessica was smiling, but Boyd's face was wrinkled with worry. I frowned at them.
“ You should've told me about your brothers,” Boyd chastised as Jessica moved silently away from us. I hadn't told Boyd about them. Sometimes I tried to pretend they never existed. I glared at Jessica's back. “Neil,” Boyd began glancing at my chest. I startled when I realized what he was looking at and jerked my covers up around my face to hide the fact that I was wearing the sweatshirt caked with his blood. He wouldn't call me weird. Boyd never called me weird. But he would tell me that I was living in the past and that the only way to get better was to make things better and that I should put on something else.
“ Yeah?” I asked with a sneer in my voice. “Why's that? You obviously didn't care enough about me to stick around.” Boyd glanced away, ashamed, and I realized with a start that I was angry at him. I was angry at them both. I looked over at Jessica again. She was staring at my taxidermy collection in horror. We might've looked the same, but after starting high school, we'd stopped sharing the same interests.
Boyd opened his mouth to say something and then paused. When I glanced back at him, I realized that something was different. Boyd had hair. I pushed away my anger and reached up, running my hands through the short, red curls. I tried to smile at him. “Where did these come from?” I asked.
“ I'm dead, Neil,” he said sadly and when he looked up at me, his eyes were dark. “Anything is possible now.” The words were nice, but his tone was melancholy. I opened my mouth to ask what the matter was, but then decided against it. It was a stupid question to ask someone who'd just killed himself. Boyd took my hand in his and squeezed it. “You can't always trust the people you love,” he said. “And Neil … ” One of his shaggy brows rose to his hairline. “Don't do it. You're so good for this world, don't do it.”
And then I woke up.
I stayed in my crumpled clothing, ignoring the
I felt empty and full all at once. It was like there was this place in my heart where Boyd had been and when he'd died, he'd taken that piece of me with him. At the same time, all of my emotions and thoughts weighed down on my stooping shoulders, seeping into me and filling me with this unbearable sense of despair. Weighted and barren. Heavy and formless. The saddest part was, I was used to feeling like this. When Mom had died, I felt this way. Dad. Jason. Abe. Jessica.
“ I have nobody,” I said and jumped when my words echoed back at me. Nobody, nobody, nobody. The crows screamed back at me in protest.
“ Not nobody,” Boyd had said as he rubbed my back in little circles when I'd told him about my sister. “You've got me.” I punched the chain link fence and cursed when the snipped wires sliced open the soft skin between my knuckles. Drops of blood bloomed on the gashes and swelled before leaking down the sides of my hand and splattering across the stones. I couldn't stop myself from staring, from watching the blood drain from me the way it had drained from Boyd before. And he's not the only one. You've seen it before. Jessica's face pale and the yellow sink red and the way she draped across the toilet with her hair wet and tinged pink from the dark water that swirled like ink.
I screamed and screamed and screamed until my voice went hoarse and the sounds of my despair played back at me from the stone walls like a curse.
I slept under the bridge that night and dreamed about Boyd and Jessica. I was back in my bedroom and they were standing over me. Jessica was smiling, but Boyd's face was wrinkled with worry. I frowned at them.
“ You should've told me about your brothers,” Boyd chastised as Jessica moved silently away from us. I hadn't told Boyd about them. Sometimes I tried to pretend they never existed. I glared at Jessica's back. “Neil,” Boyd began glancing at my chest. I startled when I realized what he was looking at and jerked my covers up around my face to hide the fact that I was wearing the sweatshirt caked with his blood. He wouldn't call me weird. Boyd never called me weird. But he would tell me that I was living in the past and that the only way to get better was to make things better and that I should put on something else.
“ Yeah?” I asked with a sneer in my voice. “Why's that? You obviously didn't care enough about me to stick around.” Boyd glanced away, ashamed, and I realized with a start that I was angry at him. I was angry at them both. I looked over at Jessica again. She was staring at my taxidermy collection in horror. We might've looked the same, but after starting high school, we'd stopped sharing the same interests.
Boyd opened his mouth to say something and then paused. When I glanced back at him, I realized that something was different. Boyd had hair. I pushed away my anger and reached up, running my hands through the short, red curls. I tried to smile at him. “Where did these come from?” I asked.
“ I'm dead, Neil,” he said sadly and when he looked up at me, his eyes were dark. “Anything is possible now.” The words were nice, but his tone was melancholy. I opened my mouth to ask what the matter was, but then decided against it. It was a stupid question to ask someone who'd just killed himself. Boyd took my hand in his and squeezed it. “You can't always trust the people you love,” he said. “And Neil … ” One of his shaggy brows rose to his hairline. “Don't do it. You're so good for this world, don't do it.”
And then I woke up.
I stayed in my crumpled clothing, ignoring the