The Darkest Lies

Chapter One

My vision feels like a fucking camera as it zooms in and out of focus, attempting to capture what is in front of us. My body coils in on itself like a snake readying to protect itself before attacking. The faint echo of the name still echoes in my mind as it tries to grasp the memory or even the memories it belongs to. I try to concentrate on the forms to release some of the weight pressing down on me. My mother is the first and easiest to recognise from the blurred figures at the door. Her posture seems calm and unfazed, even with the three looming male figures just past her. Her demeanour is the complete opposite of how I am feeling right now.

A wave of nausea hits me, and I feel the bile rising slowly up my oesophagus, threatening to appear and spew out in front of everyone. That is something I do not want a show for. Snapping out of my daze and standoff, I haphazardly stumble back up the stairs, not before announcing to the world, "I think I'm going to be sick." Not that there is any 'think' about it. I know damn well that the little I have eaten is about to make an appearance. The problem is, can I make it to the bathroom before it does?

Skidding along the bathroom floor tiles on my knees and taking the mat along for the ride, I sling my head over the toilet seat just in time to empty the contents of my stomach, attaching my arms and legs around the bowl like a kola clinging to a tree to hold me in place. My hair is suddenly gathered up behind me, making me unconsciously flinch. No one followed me, I am sure of it, and Rose is the only one upstairs, and she is not one who would willingly help me, unlike my Charlie knight.

Too busy emptying my stomach, my body becoming more lethargic the more I heave, I leave them to it, not wanting any to get any on my hair. A big hand, most likely belonging to a male, settles onto my lower back before slowly rubbing soothing circles on it and sending much-needed warmth into my body. I start to melt at the unknown touch, letting it comfort me from how rough I feel.

"It is okay, La La. I got you." A deep male voice rumbles in my ear, sending a strange shiver down my spine, not one of fear or disgust but one of pleasure. I feel the press of his lips on the top of my head. The action causes my body to stiffen again, which thankfully doesn't stop him from rubbing soothing circles on my back. His lips flutter on the top of my head as I relax again as he Mutters sweet words of comfort into my hair in his low rumbly voice. Well, I presume that is what he is doing, as I cannot hear anything over the roaring sound in my ears.

A name shimmers to the front of my mind, one long forgotten and one I once treasured. "Tri-Star." I groan as it slips past my dry lips without permission. Another wave of nostalgia hits me, along with another bout of heaving, even though I am long past having anything left to throw up. Inwardly I groan as my mind conjures up an image of my pathetic body clinging to the toilet bowl. Who would want to see that? For one, it's disgusting, and two, this is definitely not something I want people to see.

Heat rises in my cheeks in embarrassment, even though my skin is clammy. I have never been in this kind of position before, well, any I can remember. Covered head to toe in blood? Yes, quite a few times, but not this. When was the last time I was even sick? Daniel was not the caring type, so even if I was ill, I would have had to suck it up, and I had to have a strong stomach for what I had to deal with, so I don't know why I am being affected so much right now, perhaps it's all the trauma coming back to me and biting me in the arse.

Slouching against the bathroom wall, I press my head onto the cold bathroom tiles to relieve the pressure building up in it from the images flashing in front of me as my memories try to resurface from the deepest part of my mind. I'm thrown into a different type of agony as signs of a migraine show up as my head screams at me to remember. The feel of a cool, damp cloth sliding across my face wiping away the sweat on my face, gives me a refreshing feeling and distracts me from the chaos happening in my head. I want to thank them for helping me, but my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth. Once finished, they remove it and flush the toilet beside me, disposing of the evidence.