Tell Me More Lies

Chapter 8: Julian's Past

"How was therapy?" I ask Sierra while holding her in my arms. Cuddling had been a common occurrence with us along with sneaking into each other's bedroom at night. 

Lately, we've been missing our moms. Probably because winter's about to start soon.

She shuffles around my bed, holding me tighter. She doesn't like talking about her daily therapy sessions, she claims she doesn't need it. Her dad hired one immediately after Sierra's mom died three weeks ago but she still haven't gotten used to talking much. She won't admit it but I can tell it really messed her up. 

Today was her seventh session.

Words don't need to be said to know how she feels. It's riveting how we could sense each other's emotions through merely looking into each other's eyes. Sierra's not one to show much emotion, but her eyes are an open book to me. 

Those hazel colored orbs, like my mother's, was what drew me to her in the first place. My brothers and I didn't inherit the gorgeous feature though, we had a deep shade of brown like Dad's.

"Same as the last," she mumbles through my shirt. "He keeps bringing up Mom. But I'm not comfortable talking about her with him. He's a stranger. I'd rather talk to you."

Ditto on that one. I don't get why grown ups like to talk.

"Plus I heard, he asks Dad for money."

I shrug. I still find it funny how she still doesn't know how the concept of hiring works. "At least you get free candy."

"I don't have the heart to tell my dad it sucks. Mr. Schofield told me I was making progress but I don't feel any different."

My best friend looks me in the eye. "Do you think I'm different?"

"No," I lie. She was different, but not a drastic life changing kind of different. Not yet at least, my father once told me.

Her heart of gold was still there, still charismatic when she sees a lady bug fly by when we sit under the the oak tree beside the house, or still shrieks at the sight of a frog. The high spirited girl was still there, but on the days after her mother's passing, she had episodes of being shy, reserved, and just stopped talking all together. She wasn't the stuttering girl I grew to know.

But not to me.

The little girl who forced herself into my life two years ago was disappearing. Shutting herself out from the world. And though she gave me the only ticket to be part of that world, it still filled me with some type of unease.

I don't blame her. What she went through was worse than throttling a Maserati at an interstate filled with street cones and traffic. It wasn't just her mother's death, it was also the death of the good memories that had been tainted because of that daunting picture that embossed itself into her mind. 

I was mad at her mother not for dying but for killing herself in front her daughter. Who even does that? Couldn't she have done it in a closet or something, or better, not have done it at all?

"You don't believe that, do you? I can tell when you're lying."

I give her an apologetic smile. "I know."

I held her hand a week ago as we watched her mother's coffin descend six feet under. It was the first time I ever saw her truly cry. Everyone was dressed in black except her. She wore a pretty white dress that matched her mother's. They used to do that, wear matching clothes and shoes and even hairdo's that used to irk me in a type of way whenever we'd play at her house. It was her form of saying goodbye to the woman she deeply loved.

I know what it is like to lose a mother. I was devastated when I lost mine and I won't let her spiral out of control. She saved me from my grief once and I won't let her fall down, too.

I shrug. "You just seemed off is all."

She sits up. "How do you mean?"

Yesterday, Emmett Cosby had pushed me to the ground and made fun of my homework. Our assignment was to draw something that inspired us everyday so I drew a race car while everyone drew their breakfast cereal or a stupid heart. Everyone laughed except Sierra. He taunted me over and over until I lunged at him, making sure he regretted eating his breakfast cereal. 

And because of it, Miss Dante gave me detention.

Later that day, Emmett's bag had been torn from the bottom so his things came spilling down the floor. It was obvious it was no accident. Especially since I caught the faintest mischievous smile plastered on my best friend's face looking up to Emmett's distraught one. Subtle, but noticeable. 

Below her desk she gripped a pair of scissors. Menace was written all over her curled lips. But of course, no one payed attention to the quiet girl. They wouldn't even suspect her.

I confronted her about it on the walk back to my house. All she gave me was a finger to her lips and a warm smile then ran off ahead of me. 

She wasn't the type to entertain the idea of revenge. She was sweet and kind and compassionate to the people around her. So I didn't egg her on. I keep telling myself this was just a phase.

I shake my head. "Nothing."

Reaching a hand past my head, she takes a pillow and hurls it at my stomach. Her soft giggle surrounds the room. I push her off the bed and she lands on my carpet with a thud and pouts.

"No fair. You're stronger than me."

"Should've thought of that before you hit me with the pillow."

Taking one of the controllers of my Xbox, she resumed the game we were playing and pats my knee.

"Come on, I want to get to level ten before dinner."

Without a second thought, I took the second controller and sat next to her on the floor.

We played the game of Rampage Fuel until dark. I laugh at her agitation whenever she loses a round. This was our moment of peace. Alone, together, as if the outside world doesn't exist and I was perfectly fine with that as long as she's by my side.

I clear my throat. "Thank you. For what you did yesterday."

She gives me a side glance. "It wasn't fair that Emmett gets to pick on you and you getting punished for it. I'd do it again in a heart beat." Her expression was dead serious and I know deep in my gut that she would. Sierra wasn't the type to joke about serious situations.

It's just a phase.

Slowly, her carefree smile creeps its way back to the light.

I won't let you fall down the rabbit hole. It's just an episode, I remind myself.

But episodes can turn into seasons.