Breathing Lies
(The Breathing Undead Series, Book 1)
Jessica Sorensen
Breathing Lies
Jessica Sorensen
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2018 by Jessica Sorensen
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
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Cover design by MaeIdesign
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To Dav, Kiki, and Day, you guys inspire me every day.
Contents
Prologue
1. Harlynn
2. Harlynn
3. Harlynn
4. Harlynn
5. Harlynn
6. Harlynn
7. Harlynn
8. Harlynn
9. Harlynn
10. Harlynn
11. Harlynn
12. Harlynn
13. Harlynn
14. Harlynn
15. Harlynn
16. Harlynn
17. Harlynn
18. Kingsley
19. Harlynn
20. Harlynn
21. Harlynn
22. Harlynn
23. Harlynn
24. Harlynn
25. Harlynn
26. Harlynn
27. Kingsley
About the Author
Also by Jessica Sorensen
Prologue
Harlynn
When I was fifteen, I realized I was in love with my best friend Foster. But I liked him way before that, all the way back in grade school. Back then, though, it was just a crush. Nothing major. My heart was too young to be in love yet. But on my fifteenth birthday there was a single moment when I looked at him and realized.
I was in love with him.
Over the next few years, that love deepened. But I never dared tell him, fearing I’d ruin our friendship, especially if he didn’t love me back. Right before we were supposed to be heading to college, though, he said something to me that made me realize it was time to hand him my heart and soul and hope he didn’t crush them.
Turns out, all those years of keeping my feelings locked away was for nothing, because Foster did feel the same way about me. He had for a while. It should’ve been the perfect moment. And for a split second, it was.
But then everything crumbled.
Shattered.
Just like the life I thought I knew.
Nothing about my life or my world would ever be the same.
But I’m not even sure the life I thought I knew ever really existed.
Maybe it was just an illusion built around me like a grave of lies.
One
Harlynn
Six years old…
I officially have two best friends. Well, maybe they’re not my best friends, but they’re definitely my friends. Since I haven’t ever had anyone who I could call friends, I’m really excited. I just hope they’ll stay friends with me when school starts. But I’m worried that when we’re around other kids, they’ll pretend I have cooties, like most of the kids in my neighborhood do. I really hope they don’t, though.
“We should dig a hole in the backyard,” Foster Avertonson, one of my two new friends, says to me and Kingsley, his twin brother and my other new friend.
Up until about a year ago, I didn’t even know they were twins. I always thought twins were supposed to look exactly the same, but Foster and Kingsley don’t look anything alike. My mom explained to me that sometimes twins don’t always look the same, so I guess it makes sense.
And I’m actually glad they don’t look the same, because it’d make it hard to tell them apart. Kingsley has blond hair, and Foster has brown, so it’s super easy. Their mom dresses them in the same clothes, though, so that’s kind of weird. Right now, they both have on tan pants, light blue shirts, and sneakers. Kingsley told me he hates the clothes his mom picks out, but she makes him wear them anyway. Foster thinks he’s crazy, that the outfits are awesome.
“I’m not sure we should,” I tell Foster as I tear open a fruit snack.
We’re sitting at the kitchen table at my house, which means if we do what Foster wants to do, we’ll have to dig the hole in my parents’ backyard, and I’ll probably be the one to get into trouble.
“Why not?” Foster holds out his hand in my direction, and I dump a few fruit snacks into his palm before offering the rest of my snack to Kingsley.
He shakes his head. “No thanks. I’m not that hungry.”
He never takes anything I offer him. I sometimes wonder if he really doesn’t like me. That maybe his mom makes him hang out with me when she comes over to have a girls’ day with my mom, which basically means they let Kingsley, Foster, and I play while they hang out in the basement, drinking wine and listening to music. I think they might do other things, too, since every time I go down to the basement after one of their girl’s day, it smells like a skunk. I asked my dad about it once, and he told me it was my mom’s smelly candles. I don’t really get why my mom would have a skunk-scented candle, but whatever.
I stuff the rest of the fruit snacks into my mouth then hop off the chair and toss the wrapper into the trashcan. “Maybe we can play a game or something.”
“Nah, let’s dig a hole in the backyard.” Foster gets up, slides the sliding glass door open, and walks outside.
Kingsley heaves a weighted sigh. “I guess we’re digging a hole in the backyard.”
I frown. “What if we get caught? I’m probably the one who’s gonna get in trouble.”
He pushes to his feet. “I’ll take the fall if we get caught, okay?”
I shake my head. “I don’t want you getting in trouble either.”
He heads for the door, nodding for me to follow him. “Come on. Even if we don’t go out there, Foster’s gonna dig the hole anyway.”
Still frowning, I follow Kingsley outside and across the backyard to where Foster is waiting for us with a shovel.
“You guys walk as slow as snails,” he teases with a grin.
I roll my eyes, smiling back. “Snails don’t walk. They slide. And you walk fast. You’re like that speedy guy superhero.”
Foster lightly tugs on one of my braids. “His name is The Flash, silly.”
When he pulls his hand away, a few strands of my hair snagged on his watch, and he ends up pulling my head forward. My eyes water.
“Ow.” I tip my head down. “My hair’s caught on your watch.”
My hair gets pulled even harder, and I start to wonder if he’s doing it on purpose when he says, “It’s not my watch doing it.”
I angle my head to the side and frown. It’s Kingsley’s fingers that are wrapped around my braid.
“Um… why’re you pulling my hair?” I ask confusedly.
“I wasn’t. I was trying to help you get untangled,” Kingsley mutters, letting go of my braid.
“Sure you weren’t.” Foster glares at his brother. “Why do you have to be so mean all the time?”
I don’t think
Kingsley is mean, but he does act mad a lot and is always quiet, as if he hates being here—hates me.
Is that why he pulled my hair?
Kingsley scowls at Foster. “Whatever. Can we just dig the stupid hole now?”
Foster hands him the shovel. “Yeah, go ahead.”
Kingsley snatches the shovel and gives Foster a dirty look before he starts digging into the ground.
Foster sticks out his hand to me. “Wanna go with me and find some cool stuff to bury?”
Nodding, I take his hand and hike with him toward the trees that line my backyard.
Wait… Is he taking me into the woods?
“Wait,” Kingsley calls out. “You guys are seriously going in there?”
Foster waves him off. “We’ll be fine.”
Kingsley scratches his arm. “Her mom said she’s not supposed to go into the woods.”
Foster dismisses him with a shrug. “She’ll be fine. She’s with me.”
Kingsley’s frown deepens. “I don’t think you should go.”
Foster rolls his eyes. “Well, it’s not your decision, is it?”
Kingsley stares at me as Foster turns to walk away, pulling me with him.
“Don’t worry; we’ll be fine.” Foster gives my hand a squeeze, drawing my attention to him.
Not wanting him to think I’m a scaredy cat, I smile at him. “I know.”
He grins then focuses on the path ahead that winds through the trees.
“What sort of stuff are we gonna bury?” I ask, chewing on my fingernail as we step into the shade of the trees.
He shrugs, glancing around before looking down at my neck. He eyes it over. “Hey, what about this?” He points at the locket hanging around my neck. “We could pretend it’s buried treasure.”
I quickly cover the locket with my hand. “No way. My grandma gave this to me right before she died.”
“Oh.” He glances at it again then shrugs. “No worries. We can find something else.”
I relax, glad he isn’t mad at me.
Tugging on my hand, he guides me farther into the forest. We both begin looking for something cool to put in the hole. We walk for so long that my feet start to hurt. I try not to be a baby and keep quiet, but I wish I’d worn a different pair of shoes besides sandals—the insides are starting to fill up with twigs, dirt, and pebbles.
“How much farther are we going to walk?” I ask as I stumble to keep up with Foster’s super speedy walk.
He shrugs. “Until I find something awesome to put in that hole.”
I don’t want to frown, but the odds of finding something cool out here aren’t looking very great. Still, I peer around, crossing my fingers I can find something soon—
I trip over something and stumble forward, landing face-first in a bush, branches tangled around me and scraping my palms.
Foster rushes over. “Holy crap! Are you okay?”
I nod, trying to push to my feet, but my hair is snagged. “Can you help me? My hair’s stuck on something.”
“Yeah, hold still, okay?” He starts unwinding my hair from the branches.
I obey, holding perfectly still. “I don’t even know what I tripped over.”
“Probably your own feet,” he teases. “You’re kind of klutzy.”
My cheeks warm in embarrassment. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry. It’s cute. You’re really cool, Har.”
My cheeks grow even hotter. “Thanks.”
He chuckles. “You’re welcome.”
It takes him a bit, but he manages to get my hair untangled. Then he helps me to my feet.
“Are you okay?” he asks, brushing some twigs out of my hair.
I nod, staring down at my palms. The skin is cut open and blood oozes from the wounds.
“I hurt my hands,” I say, showing him.
He traces his fingers along the wounds with a funny look on his face. “We should probably get you home before dirt gets in the cuts. My mom says that sort of stuff causes infections or something. Plus, it looks like a storm’s coming.”
“Okay.” I’m more than grateful we’re leaving.
We hurry back up the path toward home, not holding hands this time since mine are all scraped up. The walk back to my house feels longer than when we walked into the forest. The sunlight is slipping away, and the wind is getting chilly. Eventually, we make it out of the trees where it’s not nearly so cold or windy, but my hands hurt really bad, so I rush toward my house, glad to be home. My relief quickly turns into fear, though, as I realize my locket isn’t bouncing against my neck anymore.
Tears flood my eyes. “Crap.”
“What’s wrong?” Foster asks, jogging up beside me.
“My locket’s gone.” I don’t want to cry and look like a baby in front of him, but my grandma was one of my favorite people ever, and when she left the necklace to me, it made me feel special.
“Don’t cry,” Fosters says. “I’ll find it.”
“No, don’t. It’s getting too dark …” I start, but he’s already running into the trees.
Frowning, I walk the rest of the distance to my backyard.
“You guys were gone forever,” Kingsley mutters as he stops digging.
Just in front of his feet is a large hole, and beside that is a pile of dirt and grass. When my mom sees this, I’ll probably be in trouble big time. And since I lost my necklace, too …
What a bad day.
Tears well in my eyes. “Foster went back into the woods because I lost my favorite necklace, and it’s dark, and I’m worried about him, and now there’s a hole in the yard …”
Kingsley sets the shovel down and pats my back. “Don’t cry, okay? I’m sure Foster will find your necklace.” He glances from the trees to me then to the hole. “As for the hole … we can hurry up and put all the dirt back in it before anyone sees it.”
I wipe the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand. “But Foster wants to bury something in it.”
“Foster will be okay just as long as you stop crying.” He offers me a small smile, but it seems stiff, as if he’s annoyed or something.
I sniffle. “Are you sure—”
“What in the hell?” My mom storms out of the house and strides across the grass toward us. Foster and Kingsley’s mom is behind her and she looks angry too.
“Shit,” Kingsley curses.
My eyes widen at the word. Sure, I’ve heard my parents use it before, but I’ve never heard anyone my age say it. It makes Kingsley seem sort of cool and kind of scary.
“Who did this?” my mom demands, her gaze locking on me.
“Um …” I squirm. “I’m sorry, Mom—”
“It was me.” Kingsley steps forward. “It was my idea. Harlynn tried to talk me out of it, but I didn’t listen.”
“Dammit, Kingsley,” his mom scoffs. “Why do you always have to cause trouble?”
Kingsley stares at the ground and mutters, “Do I really need to answer that?”
“No, you really don’t.” His mom snags ahold of his sleeve. “Come on; you’re going home.” She scans the backyard, her brows dipping. “Wait. Where’s Foster?”
“Right here.” Foster appears beside the back fence and jogs up to us with dirt smudged on his face. He takes one look at his mom holding on to Kingsley’s sleeve and frowns. “What’s going on?”
“Your brother thought it’d be a good idea to ruin the Everly’s backyard, even though I warned him before we came over here that if he so much as ruined one single thing, he’d be grounded for a month.” She gives Kingsley a dirty look, to which he responds with indifference.
Foster sneaks a glance at his brother then looks back at his mom. “Do I have to go home, too? I was having a lot of fun hanging out with Harlynn.” He smiles at me, and I return it, surprised by his words.
With me crying and not wanting to dig a hole, I thought he’d be bored by now.
His mom starts to shake her head, but then she frowns as she glances over at the forest.
“Wait. You were in the woods?”
Foster pulls a whoops face. “Um, yeah, but I was just looking for Harlynn’s locket.”
“Why would your locket be in there?” my mom asks me, raising her brows.
Foster’s eyes widen as he looks at me and mouths, “Sorry.”
“Um …” I bite on my thumbnail.
My mom’s nostrils flare. “All right, everyone inside now.”
With our shoulders slumped, Foster, Kingsley, and I trudge toward the house.
“Sorry,” Foster whispers to me.
“It’s okay,” I tell him. “But please tell me you found my locket.”
He shakes his head. “But I promise I’ll find it. I won’t stop looking until I do.”
I smile, even though I’m sad my locket is gone. But his offer to look for it is really nice.
“Thanks, Foster.” I give him a hug.
When Kingsley frowns at us, I step back and put my arms around him.
“Thanks for taking the fall for the hole,” I say, hugging him.
He hugs me back, his arms a little shaky like he’s cold, even though the wind has quieted and the air has warmed. Maybe he’s like my grandma who used to say her bad circulation made her cold.
He stops shaking as he steps back then quickly hurries inside the house.
I turn toward Foster. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Nah, he just gets weird like that. I’m not sure why, but you probably shouldn’t worry about it.” He shifts his weight, rubbing the back of his neck. “But maybe you shouldn’t hug him again for a while.”
Breathing Lies: (The Breathing Undead Series, Book 1) Page 1
