The truth is the truth. It is never wrong. It’s not always what you want it to be. It can be profound and enlightening. Or it can be ugly and brutal. But it will always be the truth.
But it’s not. Not really.
We each have our own twisted version of the truth, tainted by perception. And sometimes, it’s all we have. So we guard and protect it with unwavering belief, even if it’s a lie.
And my truth is Trust killed my grandmother.
My grandmother raised me. My mother had just graduated high school when I was born, and she still lived at home with her sisters. She didn’t need to take care of me all of the time. Or even some of the time. My grandmother was going to have a say in how I was raised no matter what. She had an opinion about everything, and let anyone know it. So, maybe my mother just gave up and let her have me.
In my grandmother’s house, you either needed to shut up and do what you were told or be as stubborn and loud as she was. My aunt Helen and my grandmother could be heard halfway down the street in a rage of stubbornness. Whereas my mother and Aunt Allison slammed a lot of doors in their silent obedience. I’m a blend of the two. My words were never shouted but were definitely damaging. My stubbornness had every crack in the corner of the kitchen memorized by the time I was seven, having been forced to stare at the wall for hours at a time—my grandmother’s favorite punishment when I openly expressed my will.
Despite everything, she was the most important person in my life. There was something about us being cursed with Trust and Honesty. We needed each other. She knew I’d always tell her the truth, regardless how brutally delivered. And I trusted her with my life. But beyond our walls, the world was filled with liars, thieves and murderers. Every life experience held a lesson to be learned. And my grandmother was the most passionate of teachers. No matter how many times I’m forced to learn the hard way, the lesson is always the same.
Trust no one.
Everyone lies.
You can only save yourself.
There once was a girl named Thaylina who lived in a tower. And even though it was old, and the frigid air seeped in through its cracked stones, she loved the tower because it was home.
The girl was watched over and protected by a wise and powerful sorceress, who raised her as her own. The sorceress instilled Thaylina with wisdom so she would not be fooled by the ways of the world.
I’m already awake when they come in for morning call. Sleep is next to impossible in a room filled with girls tossing on squeaky springs. Besides, I was too wired from the night before to sleep. Watching a girl being pushed down a flight of stairs and getting arrested for something you didn’t do can make anyone fear closing their eyes.
I climb off my bunk, pulling the covers over the pillow in one motion. After slipping on my issued slippers, I shuffle toward the bathrooms with the rest of the groggy girls, mumbling and yawning.
I can feel her slide in step next to me before I see her.
“Look who it is.”
I keep my eyes on the spindly hairs sticking out the braid on the head in front of me. It’s too fricken early for this bullshit.
“Can’t stay away, Lana?” And her mouth just can’t stay shut. “Did you finally kill someone?”
I whip around just as her claw reaches out to grab my hair. My fingers wrap around her wrist, and a foot sweeps her legs out from under her. My knee is on her chest before she can inhale. Panic sweeps across her dark eyes as she fights for her next breath.
“Stay the fuck away from me, Sienna,” I growl, an inch away from her teary face.
I’m up and walking away in less than a minute, blending in with the line of girls who didn’t give us a second glance. A guard hollers, “Hey, what’s going on up there?” I’m already in the bathroom by the time she reaches Sienna.
After a brief shower, I’m ushered to the cafeteria for breakfast. I’m not hungry, so I grab a plastic cup and fill it with water. I find a table in the far corner and sit. And because I’m so welcoming, not a single person sits next to me. Exactly how I prefer it.
I watch. Figure out who’s in charge. Who’s afraid. And who’s a bitch just to be a bitch. I recognize a few faces, besides Sienna’s. But they ignore me. The only ones who pay me any attention are the curious ones. The ones who haven’t been told who I am or why they should stay away.
The first time I was here two years ago, I learned quickly that the only way to stay out of the drama is to be bigger than the drama. To let them know I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks about me. But if anyone touches me, I will retaliate. And it will painful … for one of us.
I only had to send a couple girls to the hospital in need of stitches and a splint to be left alone. I also earned a certain amount of respect when it became obviously apparent that I’d never say a word or give anyone up. I can’t believe I’m back here, having to deal with all of this bullshit again. All because I couldn’t risk revealing the truth.
I hate my curse.
I sense someone standing across from me, and lift my head to find one of the counselors looking down at me from the other side of the empty table. “Your lawyer’s here.”
Wordlessly, I stand and follow her. Halfway down a long corridor, she opens the door to the visitors’ room. The lines of rectangular tables and seats are vacant. The tall man draped in a finely tailored dark gray suit stands in the middle of the room, waiting for me. After he demanded I be transported to juvie last night, he told me he’d see me in the morning. But I never really expected him to show up.
Niall Harrison offers a gentle smile, his eyes creasing in concern. “Hi, Lana.” This man doesn’t belong in this room with me. It feels as wrong as finding a sleek Mercedes in a used car lot.
I don’t move closer as the door clicks shut and the lock slides in place behind me.
“Where’s Dwight?” I ask, referring to my court-appointed lawyer who’s been representing me since my “public disturbance” a couple years ago.
“Home, I assume.”
“Why are you here?”
“To help you.”
“Why?” I can’t help but be cynical. There’s no reason for him to be here. Not one.
“I want to,” Niall states plainly.
“I can’t afford you.”
“That’s not an issue.”
“Why are you doing this?” His evasiveness is starting to get to me.
“My sons are concerned about you. They came to me separately and asked that I represent you. As did your mother.”
I don’t move. “How do you know my mother?”
“Why don’t we talk?” He pulls out a chair. When I remain still, he says, “At least sit down so we can review the charges.”
My issued slippers scrape against the linoleum with each step. He waits ‘til I’m seated across from him before lowering into the blue plastic bucket chair across from me. I slump back, pressing my knees against the table with my arms crossed over the red jumpsuit.
“As of right now, they’re only going to charge you with possession and trespassing.”
“Trespassing?”
“You were identified at the Oaklawn Country Club.”
I roll my eyes. Of course I was.