The Lies She Told: A wickedly twisted psychological thriller that you cannot put down!

by Paula Johnston

  You chat casually to a few of them, introducing yourself I assume, before singling one of them out. Your hand is placed gently on his chest and you begin to whisper something into his ear, your body now pressed firmly up against him. I see it now; I can't believe it's taken me so long to realise. I know exactly why she’s showing interest in this guy, it's because he looks a bit like Jacob. He has the same wide, cheeky grin with pearly white teeth that have the ability to persuade you to do anything and everything. Just when I think that there is nothing else left for you to do that would shock me, you do this. Are you not satisfied enough with your attempts to worm your way into my marriage? Clearly not, I guess. The homewrecker now wants a slice of his doppelgänger, and it makes me sick. The two of you step away from the rest of the group and a few of the lads thump him on the back in admiration. My heart starts to beat faster and I can feel the blood rush to my ears as you lead him over to me. I feel hot, very hot. I do my best to act oblivious, keeping up the pretence that I wasn't watching you but now you're pulling at me, yanking at my ankle to get my attention. I crouch down to hear what you have to say but you start to wipe at my face. I flinch, but try my best to stay steady even though your touch feels like it is burning my flesh. You smooth down my hair before finally telling me what you want.

  ‘Come on babe, we’re going for a walk’ she shouts over the sound of the music.

  I can't speak, my mouth feels dry and desperate for water. I have no idea what you are up to here, and why you need me to join you in entertaining your Jacob lookalike. I jump down swiftly and obediently but as soon as my feet hit the sticky floor, I scald myself for slipping out of character. There was no struggle, no wobble, no clumsiness. Nothing even remotely close to the drunk that I’m supposed to be. Thankfully, I think you are too wrapped up in your male friend to notice.

  Chapter 29

  We walk for a little while; not too long, just enough that we are now away from the hustle and bustle of the busy bars and clubs. We seem to have found ourselves at the beach. It’s quiet, maybe even a little eerie without mass gatherings and loud voices. The light from the street has faded into the distance and we all would be in complete darkness if it wasn’t for the crisp moonlight.

  Jack seems like a nice lad. He’s attractive and extremely funny and if I was single then sure, I would think about going there, but unfortunately for both of you, I'm not single and I definitely haven’t forgotten about the rock on my finger.

  We sit on the damp sand, just the two of us; away from you and your poison. The cool salty air washes over us gently and I’m enjoying spending some time with someone new – someone who isn't you. Jack is a nobody to me, I can be completely myself with him, but still I'm still very much aware of your presence and the fact that you can't take your eyes off us. You sit by yourself only a few feet away and I can't remember if we chose to walk on in front or if you stopped behind deliberately but right now, I don't really care as long as you're not suffocating me.

  What I do care about though is what you plan on doing next. I know now why you wanted me to tag along. It wasn't so that I could play gooseberry, it was so that you could. I was very much aware that this bloke had been giving me the eye in the bar earlier, but you didn't think of that did you? You thought I was too pissed to notice and instead you spotted a wild opportunity; jumping at the chance to cause some trouble.

  In your warped and twisted mind, you believe that if you dangle this handsome guy in front of me; one who has striking similarities to Jacob, that I will stray from fidelity. The alcohol you think that I have consumed throughout the night is what you will be counting on, and like a little rat you will scurry back home and tell my husband that his wife is a filthy cheat. It seems that alcohol has always been your weapon of choice and something you counted on being the instrumental factor in my demise. I wonder though, how did you plan on presenting this information to him without giving away the game that you were here too?

  I've already made it crystal clear to Jack that nothing will be happening between us. I'm flattered by the attention, of course I am, but I've never been the type to lead a poor bloke on. He's completely wasted but I think he understands because after I politely rebuffed him, he's spent the majority of our time together chatting shit about his ex-girlfriend back in Liverpool and how he thinks he will give things another go between them. You don't know any of this though. You don't have any idea what we're talking about and so I'm milking every drop by laughing loudly at his jokes and gently touching his arm. I might not be happy about leading Jack on, but leading you a merry dance, I'm more than happy to.

  You've decided to interrupt us, perhaps you've grown impatient with me because there's been no snogging or heavy petting. 'OK you two love birds, let's take this party back to the hotel, shall we?'

  It takes everything I have not to put you in your place right here, every inch of my shivers as I try to practice the utmost self-control. I bite down hard on my bottom lip, piercing the skin. The coppery taste of blood streams onto my tongue and I swallow it down.

  Jack, although still clearly pining after his ex-girlfriend, seems to think he might have caught chance of a second wind with the suggestive invitation back to our hotel and springs into the air, ready to go. I'm not so quick to get to my feet, after all, I'm very drunk ain’t I?

  I stumble my way back to our hotel, grabbing onto your arm tightly, making it difficult for you to manoeuvre me. I make a point of causing a scene when the lift brings us all up to the poolside. Nothing major, just faffing around and shouting obscenities. The security guard shushes me, but I just laugh at him. You look absolutely mortified and I realise that this is probably the most fun I've had yet. I make a mental note that I should try to embarrass you more often.

  When we finally get upstairs to your apartment, you pull me away from Jack and into your bedroom and we both fall back on to the bed, laughing in unison. You turn on your side to face me, our noses almost touching, and I feel really, really uncomfortable so I flutter my eyelids a couple of times as though I am falling into an intoxicated sleep. Maybe if I fall asleep you will go away and leave me alone. I can smell the sweet tang of tequila on your breath and your hair is gently tickling my cheek. I'm repulsed by you.

  I wrack my brain nervously trying to piece together what your crazy ass is about to do next. As if I ever had any doubts before, it is abundantly clear that you invited Jack back here for no other reason than to wingman him into a quick shag. To be quite honest, I'm a little bit stunned that you're willing to go this far. Surely with the amount of alcohol you have attempted to ply me with, you know that this isn't right? Had I been as drunk as you think I am, there's no way I would be in any position to have sex and yet you've continued to orchestrate this whole thing. There might have been a time where I held some respect for your ballsy-ness; coming all the way here by yourself with a grand master plan – but not now. You've forfeited the right to any respect at the same time you forfeited my right to safely consent to going to bed with a fucking stranger. You're vile, and I hope to God you struggle to sleep peacefully at night.

  Whilst I feign sleepy unconsciousness, there is a brief moment where there is nothing but silence; no movement, no speaking, no laughing. Suddenly a sharp pull underneath my arms causes me to flinch as I’m hoisted upwards. I feel your warm body pressed against my back and I allow my head to lull to one side. You tug my dress up and over my body and then release my dead weight, allowing me to fall back down flat on the bed in just my underwear. I can hear the blood whirling furiously in my ears and I do nothing but remain completely still, anticipating your next move. The only thing comforting me in this freak situation is that I have sobriety on my side; I am able to defend myself if I really need to. But I still can't believe this is even happening. I wish we were in my apartment, not yours. Georgia would come home and see what you were up to and would put a stop to this madness and then she would, she would… she wouldn't do anything – because she's not staying with me anymore.
My best friend left me when I needed her the most.

  A crash erupts from the Kitchen where we left Jack.

  ‘Jack … Jack’ she whispers, and I hear him bound into the room like an obedient puppy dog.

  My eyes remain firmly shut, mostly because I don't want to open them and for all of this to be real.

  You encourage him to lie down next to me. 'Here, lie down next to Lauren, she asked me to get you.’

  Oh my god, my heart begins to pound against my chest. You're really going to do it; you're really going to let a stranger take advantage of an unconscious and un-consenting girl aren't you? This is a joke, right? It has to be a joke. Maybe you do know that I know who you are and are testing me, tempting me to make another move on your wicked chessboard. Surely you can't be serious, I just can't believe that you could be. This isn't right. Neither of us know this lad, he could be anyone. We don't know his past; we don't know what he's capable of. Sure, he seemed lovely to chat to, but he's drunk too, and he has been invited back to our room. He might think this is OK. He might not see this for what it is. This is rape.

  There's a struggle between the two of you. I think you might be helping him undress but I can't be sure, all I know is I heard the crack of a belt hit the floor. The bed dips as he falls beside me, the strong woody smell of his aftershave filling my nose as he throws an arm over me and pushes his face against my neck. My body stiffens at his touch; a touch so foreign and unfamiliar to my husbands, and I realise that I'm torn between two very strong emotions – fear and rage. I feel paralysed, too scared to move a muscle, and yet there's still something much darker and much more intense lurking in my body that wants me to lunge from this bed and tear you apart, limb from limb.

  I wait for another movement from Jack, ready to swipe away the creep of a hand or a hot mouth pressed against my lips but nothing comes. I try as best as I can to push past the pounding in my ears so that I am prepared for anything, and when I do, I realise that the rhythm of his breath has changed. He's asleep, oh thank God he's fallen asleep.

  The bedroom door creaks as it is pulled over and a sharp sigh of relief escapes me. My eyes dart open wildly and I lift up Jack's limp arm and slide away from him, slowly rolling my way off the bed. I creep over to the door that hasn’t been shut properly and peer through the crack and there you are, sitting on the couch, your feet up comfortably without a care in the world. Your stupid face a picture of glee as you flick through your phone. You seem satisfied with yourself, but I don’t understand why because nothing happened. He fell asleep, we didn't sleep together, nothing happened for you to be happy about. You don't have anything to use against me and yet you look thrilled.

  I continue to watch you through the gap as your finger swipes right and then left, and then right again as if you're looking at something more than once. It's almost as if you're scrolling through some happy memories in your photo album. Tears begin to form in the corner of my eyes and I clasp my hand to my mouth in realisation. My eyes bulge, forgetting how to blink and I force myself to take slow and steady breaths. You do have something, don't you? In fact, you have all that you need, regardless of how this night has panned out. You don't need a serial killer to perform in front of you when you are staring down at their crime scene because you have all the evidence you need in one clear snapshot to convict. You have fresh ammunition to take me to trial. You have pictures.

  Chapter 30

  I barely slept last; a turbulent combination of lying half naked in an unfamiliar bed whilst being left for roadkill. I was so angry at myself for being so fucking stupid. Of course, you were going to take pictures, you aren't stupid. You are many things: cunning, sly, wickedly manipulative, and I knew all of this about you from our first few days together and still it never crossed my mind to think you were capable of such evil.

  I know that nothing happened between us, but I’m not so naïve in believing that any Jury examining those pictures wouldn’t find me guilty of adultery - if that’s what I was to be accused of. What evidence would I have to support my case? It would be my word against yours, just the two of us battling against each other. I wouldn’t have Jack to confirm my story of events because I didn’t plan on seeing him ever again.

  I scratch furiously at my head in frustration. I desperately need to get out of this hot and sticky room; the balcony doors have been shut all night and the room is stifling. I can smell last night's alcohol circulating amongst us. I need to get to the shower fast, and scrub away the fear and disgust that accompanied last night. I still can't wrap my head around the fact that if I had drank too much and I wasn’t as aware as I was last night, what could have happened. The way you behaved last night, that’s a whole different level of crazy, a much greater scale than the one I had you pegged.

  I won’t be able to get to the bathroom without you knowing because I will need to pass by you in the living room. I'm not ready to spar with you yet, but I have no other choice than to confront this head on and allow you to play puppet master and so I call your name. Silence, you don't answer.

  'Zee, are you awake?', I call again, but you still don't respond and instead Jack starts to stir beside me.

  For Fuck sake where are you? My hands start to shake with rage or nerves, I'm not too sure which one, and I slide them under my thighs to stop their trembling. You're only in the room next door, so I know that you can hear me but for some reason are choosing to ignore me.

  I shout on you again, louder this time and the fresh anger spikes tears in my eyes. The patter of heavy footsteps thudding against the tiles tells me that finally, you are moving closer. The door flies open and clatters against the wall, causing the paint to crack, fall and sprinkle lightly onto the floor. You stand completely still, gawking at me with those big stupid eyes, issuing me a disapproving glare that a parent would give their kid when they have behaved out of turn.

  What the hell have you got to be so righteous about? You know nothing happened between the two of us, as much as you clearly wanted it to, and yet here you are standing in front of me with your hand placed on your hip and the audacity to look at me with such revulsion. You silently dare me to make the first move in today's game and reluctantly I play my hand.

  ‘What happened last night, Zee?’

  My voice is hoarse and panicked, but not by the fear that you expect me to feel this morning. It's a different kind of fear, a fear where I don't know if I will be able to control myself enough to carry on with this farce.

  ‘Come off it, Lauren’, you belittle me. ‘You mean you don’t remember?’

  I can’t speak, I keep my tongue firmly pressed to the roof of my mouth to prevent me from responding irrationally. I’m too angry, too close to the edge, too close to exploding and blowing up your entire world to even try and speak to you. Instead, I shake my head. It’s all I can stomach as I pull the thin white bed sheet tighter around my partially exposed body and sit there silently as you relish the opportunity to tell me everything you want me to believe. Delighting in telling me just how drunk I was, you dive in without hesitation, adding that you understand that it was a mistake and it wasn’t my fault.

  'Blame it on the alcohol babe, we've all been there.’

  I taste the venom on my tongue, and I force my lips apart, doing everything I can to speak to you without spitting obscenities.

  ‘What wasn’t my fault? Where are my clothes?’ I demand; an icy stare fixed on your face.

  You nod your head in the direction of the corner of the room, where my white sundress lies in a heap, accompanied by Jack's red t-shirt.

  ‘You slept with Jack, Lauren. Don’t worry though, obviously I won’t tell a soul.’

  The way you speak, so nonchalant about the whole thing raises bile to the back of my throat. Swallowing it down, I pounce from the bed and grab my dress, throwing it quickly over my head and barge past you with a thunderous force. I can hear you shout on me, telling me to come back but I am too fast for you to try and stop me. I quickly unlock the apartmen
t door and make my escape. Stuff the shower, that can wait, I just need out of this fucking apartment.

  I hurl myself around the corner that takes me to the stairs and start to power my way down. I realise that I'm not wearing any shoes and the tiles are cool on the soles of my feet. What can I do? Where can I go? I pause, thinking that maybe I should head back up the stairs with my tail between my legs. I could chap on the door; I could tell them what happened last night and how dangerous it was. I'm sure they would understand, they would let me in, they wouldn't hold anything against me. My hand grips the railing as I decide if I am going up or down. I decide to go down. I can't tell the girls about last night, of course I can't, that will only open a whole new can of worms. I can see their faces now, glaring at me with that I-told-you-so attitude. I started this by myself, I have to go the distance by myself, no matter what happens. I take another step down and slowly continue my descent. I will sit by the pool, maybe dangle my legs in a little whilst I wait for you and Jack to leave my apartment. I just need to give myself a shake, gather myself again after the wreckage of last night. I will be OK; I can do this.

  The last couple of days were the most stifling of them all. To carry on acting like I had done something wrong, gifting you the satisfaction of having something over me was a nightmare. It made my skin itch to even be around you. In hindsight I should have just told you that I knew who you were after that night, ended the whole thing whilst I still had you face to face. I should have done, but I didn’t, because that would have been too easy on you. You might even have enjoyed the confrontation in some sick way, who knows what goes on in that twisted head of yours, and I didn’t want you to enjoy anything about this. You didn't deserve to. I needed you to suffer for what you had put me through – hell, are still putting me through – and outing you then was not going to satiate me.