The Truth Never Told A Lie

Chapter 10.

I decided to take a long way home, through a place known as Whittle Park, hoping to clear my mind and get a chance to think. I left school as quickly as I could. As I exited the locker room I spotted Carson, leaning against the wall. He glared threateningly at me, but I ignored him and pushed passed.

I went out of the doors and began walking. Before long, I reached the park. I sat down on a bench and watched a man throwing bread crumbs to the abundant number of pigeons waddling at his feet. The green trees above me rustled in the wind. It was a cloudy sky; it would probably rain again. I leaned back on the bench, trying to relax.

My phone jingled. I looked down and saw a notification. Paperwork was in. I threw down my phone and it landed on the cement sidewalk. I picked it back up, half expecting it to be cracked. It wasn't. Spinel metal.

There were two things I wanted to know. Who on earth was Tate Carlson? And who was Markon? Actually, there were a lot of things I wanted to know. Who was Tate working for? How would we work side by side? And why had I trusted him so quickly? I thought back to the time I had first met him. I had looked into his eyes then. Why hadn't the Truth kicked in?

Something was really, really off, but I didn't know what. And I guess that's what was bothering me. The fact that I didn't know. I'm so used to knowing everything. I could only come up with two explanations for not having seen him for what he was the first time: One, I had been 'blinded by beauty', or two, I hadn't been able to look him in the eye for more than five seconds. I hadn't had time to adjust and figure him out right away. I preferred to believe the latter.

A tear trickled down my cheek. I don't cry very often. I get upset, yes, but I try to remain aloof and indifferent. But the truth was I was really hurting inside. I was tired of the Truth, tired of fearing for my life, tired of my job, tired of everything. I wasn't quite sure if I was even alive or if I even wanted to be. After crying for a while, I felt very cold. I looked up at the sky. I t was getting dark and the clouds were still rolling in. A couple of raindrops fell on the cement sidewalk at my feet. The trees stirred restlessly, as the wind brushed by the branches.

I let out a choked sigh and wiped my tears away. Then I stood, picked up my things and started walking home, my purse dangling at my side. The wind began blowing harder, and it began to sprinkle rain all around. The air smelled cleaner, with the fresh water sweeping away the impurities. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, and new strength and courage filled me.

All at once, I felt my arm being wrenched as my purse was tugged away from my side. I looked through my windswept hair and saw a person in a hooded jacket running away with my purse.

"Hey, you! Stop!" I yelled. "Give that back!"

I gave chase. I followed him through the crowded sidewalk, shouting as I went. "He's not that fast. I can catch him easily." I didn't stop to consider what I would do next, but I continued after him. We went street after street. I was breathing hard. It was harder to keep up with him than I expected. Then he turned and ran into a dark alley. I slowed down and stepped slowly through it and towards him. He was standing there, his back to me, holding my purse, and looking at the dead end.

"Listen, sir, give my purse back and I won't call the police."

"Really?" He called back. "Actually, I think that is just too hilarious." Two strong arms grabbed my arms on both sides. I gasped. Two guys were holding me fast and two more men stepped out of the shadows in front of me. One slapped his fist and palm threateningly. The guy with the purse turned to face me.

"Hello, Emily Wilkes."