It All Started with a Lie

Chapter 7

I had romance novel inside of me
but I paid three sailors
to beat it out of me
with steel pipes.
~ Patton Oswalt

Chapter 7
His POV
"And how did that make you feel?"

I raised a brow, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. "Really Mrs. T, you're hitting me with the 'how did that make you feel' line? Don't you think that's a bit cliche?"

She was not pleased with my attitude, scribbling a note in one of my charts that probably started something along the lines of 'patient is getting on my nerves today'. "It's a cliche for a reason. Now how did that make you feel?"

I can't deny the fact that I had been a particular pain in her ass today. I'd been avoiding all her questions, avoiding telling her about Tommy. I'd just gotten to having my sessions moved to every other week and if I told her I beat the crap out of someone she'd move me back to once a week. Bea was so proud of me when I told her I got moved to bi-weekly.

Bea started seeing a therapist several months ago, and after her first session she didn't want to go back, so I told her I would start going too. We scheduled our appointments in the same building, same time, side by side rooms, different therapists. We drove to our appointment together, and always got lunch after. Until her appointments became bi-weekly, after only a few months, mine on the other hand did not. Until recently. How could I look her in the eyes and tell her I was so messed up I had to be moved back to weekly appointments, all because I couldn't keep my temper in check. I couldn't bear to see the disappointment in her face. So my plan was to never tell Mrs. T about Tommy. Instead, I opted for telling her about the dancer.

I groaned, running a hand through my hair. "It made me feel..." I couldn't find the words, like always. In the few months of therapy I'd been going to, I rarely found the words. "I don't know how I felt. All I've ever felt was angry but this—" This was different. And I had no way of explaining it.

She nodded, scribbling more in her fancy notepad that she never let me see. "How was it different?"

If I could describe that, I would have used another word choice. "It's just," I groaned, trying to put what I'd felt in words. "I was pissed. I mean I was livid. She was yelling, and calling me all these names and I was pissed." I refrained from telling her what we were fighting about, only about the mess I'd created in Professor Hammon's office, nothing of the parking garage, nothing of Tommy.

"And?" She pressed.

"And I wanted to break something or punch the post or scream. I was so angry I could have torn a hole in a wall."

"So what did you do?"

I looked her in the eyes, taking a breath. "She kissed me." I had no idea why, maybe she got off on being berated and yelled at.

Mrs. T nodded, listening intently.

"She kissed me, and I fucked her, and it's the first non-destructive thing I've ever done when I've gotten like this." I'd never thought to turn to sex to relieve my anger, I'd never wanted to. But it has been two days since I saw her and suddenly she, or at least my head between her thighs, is the only thing I think about when I get mad.

"Self destructive behaviors can come in many forms. From punching a wall to meaningless sex."

I shook my head. "Not this. This wasn't." There's not an ounce of her that could be destructive. "I mean she is stunning. You should see her dance, it's like she can light the whole world alive." This couldn't have been destructive, nothing that sweet could ever be ruinous. She tasted like burnt sugar and rum.

"You care deeply about this girl?"

I nearly burst out laughing. "What? Oh, absolutely not. I hate her. She's a pain in my ass and probably the most infuriating person I've met." All she ever does is scream about how horrible I am.

Mrs. T looked at me with an eyebrow raised, scribbling another note. "And you said this argument started because you lied to her?"

I nodded. It was not a moment I was terribly proud of, I can't blame her for hating me, but for my sister I would do anything. "The president of the sorority she was fighting for a spot in agreed to pay for Beatrice's surgery if I switched the pen out for that note."

"Beatrice's surgery?"

I rolled the ring on my finger back and forth. "To get her toes separated."

Mrs. T knew all about the house fire that left my siblings with scars that covered half their bodies—Beatrice was particularly conscious of her feet, I could see it every time she tried to walk around the house without shoes on. But Mrs. T didn't know these things because of me, she only knew because Beatrice had informed her while I sat awkwardly on the edge of the couch waiting for the family session to be over. Needless to say, Mrs. T was not very happy I had refrained from telling her such important information.

"I thought you said that your sister was finding more confidence in her appearance."

I looked away, unable to meet her inquiring stare. My voice was soft as I answered. "Yeah, she is. She goes out in short sleeves and shorts, doesn't put makeup on her scars as often —" as much as I hated to admit it, I had to thank her boyfriend for that. He was a good one, and he really brought out a happier side of her. "But she still wears socks around the house, and hates to buy new shoes, and can't wear sandals."

"And you feel like it is your responsibility to pay for the surgery."

"Of course it is." How could she ask such a foolish question. Of course it is my responsibility. I am her big brother. I'm the man of the house, I'm supposed to take care of her and Sonny. I'm supposed to provide for the house, protect my family. I was supposed to protect her.

"It is not your fault."

Yes it is. "I know."

I'd rather talk about the dancer, or even Tommy. I would rather talk about anything. Thankfully, when I check the clock it is within five minutes of the end of our session, but I decide it must be slow, so I stand and grab my things. "Looks like we are all out of time. I will see you in two weeks Mrs. T."

"Klaus!" She scolds as I run out the door, but she lets me leave, writing yet another note, probably a reminder to discuss this next time. But I had two weeks to avoid it.

Beatrice wasn't out of her session yet, but I couldn't stay in that office any longer, so I texted her to meet me outside and headed to the parking lot.  My bike waited outside for me, nearly in perfect condition besides the giant scratch on the side from where Beatrice side swept another car. Seeing her walk up to the door with my injured baby was probably the closest I've gotten to wanting to cry in a long while.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I leaned against the wall, running a hand through my hair. I was supposed to protect them. It was my job to. But I was just too weak. The sound of my sister's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. "How did it go?" She asked, smiling brightly. Bea had the kind of smile that lit up a room. She could make anyone's day better with it. "Smoothly. Ready for lunch?"

"Always!" She laughed, heading towards the bike and slipping her helmet on, before handing me mine, her outstretched arm covered in pink wrinkled flesh. Scars of my failure. I wasn't strong enough. "Ready?" She beamed.

I nodded. I may not have been strong enough then, but I am now. "Ready."

A/N
Hi lovies!
What did we think of todays chapter?

Are we liking the weekly chapters ever Friday or do we want it to be more random?

Huge news: I am redesigning the cover for It all started with a dare and some big changes will hopefully be coming in the next few weeks.

But for now I hope you loved the chapter and don't forget to vote and comment. And I hope you all have a wonderful day!

QOTD: what is your favorite time of year?

Lots of love,
Rachelle <3