Every Hidden Truth (Far From Ruined Book 2)

by Nikole Knight

  “Oh my God, are you naked?” Esther squealed, her cheeks flushing bright red.

  I chortled. “Why? Want me to be?”

  Her hand covered the camera, and I roared with laughter. It was effortless to embarrass her, and she was adorable when she blushed. Of course, she didn’t appreciate how often I took advantage. Her nose twitched like a bunny when she grew irritated, and the scrunch of her face was incredibly endearing.

  Ever since we’d met a month ago, I made it my life’s mission to be best friends. Much to everyone’s surprise, Esther had taken to me quickly. Painfully shy and insecure, she didn’t make friends easily, but I’d wormed my way determinedly into her life. We were bosom buddies, and it helped that our boyfriends were besties. Ronnie annoyed me more often than not, but I respected him. Not many guys would openly date a transgender girl in this area of the Midwest Bible Belt.

  Today, Esther had curled her hair in preparation for the dance, the strands appearing much shorter than her normal chin length. The back was short and layered, and she usually spiked it with wax to match her characteristic punky style. But today it was smooth and straight, accentuating the loose ringlets framing her narrow face.

  “I don’t know why I put up with you,” she mumbled, chewing her bottom lip.

  “Because I’m amazing, and you love me.” I flipped my head haughtily, like a girl in a shampoo commercial even though I lacked the necessary tresses to pull it off. “But I was just kidding. I’m not naked. See?”

  Directing my camera to my hips, I showed off my bright orange boxers, and she squeaked like a mouse, probably covering her eyes. “Silas, stop it! I don’t wanna see.”

  “Well, now you’re just hurting my feelings.” I plopped onto my bed with an exaggerated pout, and she frowned.

  “I don’t think I’m the one you should be fishing compliments from,” she chided softly. “But be that as it may, I need your advice.”

  “Yes, dump Ronnie’s monstrously tall ass and join Ben and me in a three-way. We can be polygamists.” She growled in frustration, her voice deepening with the sound before hanging up on me.

  Oh shit.

  I called her back, and when she didn’t answer, I did it again.

  Finally, she picked up, and her hazel eyes, lined with thick black eyeliner, narrowed on my screen. Purple eyeshadow colored her lids, and her creamy skin was smoothed with foundation. Unfortunately, no amount of makeup could fully hide the dark shadow above her lip. I imagined it drove her crazy.

  “Sorry,” I apologized the moment she answered. “I was just teasing. I didn’t realize there was a serious crisis. What’s up, sweetie?”

  At only a year younger than me, the endearment tasted odd on my tongue, but her eyes brightened, and her lips twitched in pleasure.

  “It’s nothing really. No crisis.” She bit her lip, and I waited her out. Gentle patience was the best approach. “It’s just… well, there’s the dance tonight, and I-I…”

  “What’s up, Ez?” I asked after a long pause, and she sighed.

  “I don’t know what to wear,” she finally confessed, and I wished I was there in person so I could hug her.

  “Me, neither. I’ve been going through my clothes longer than I’m willing to admit.” I winked at the small smile she sent through the camera. “What are the options?”

  Fiddling with her phone, she managed to swap the camera, and the images changed from her face to a pair of closed closet doors. Hanging from each doorknob was a dress. One was black, long-sleeved, and made from thick material. Purple flowers decorated the torso. It was pretty but modest, and I imagined it would fit perfectly with her buckled black boots and signature black leggings.

  Different in every way, the second dress hung next to the first, the material flowy and glimmering under the light. It was lavender with straps where the sleeves should be and tailored to flair at the waist. It was feminine, most likely store-bought, and created to hug girlish curves. I understood her conundrum.

  “They’re both really pretty, Ez,” I said, and her breath shuddered from behind her phone. “Which one do you like better?”

  It was a stupid question, really. I knew which one she liked. It was only a question of whether she had the guts to wear it. In the strappy dress, there would be no hiding the squareness of her shoulders or the flatness of her chest.

  “I like both,” she evaded.

  I rolled my eyes. “For fuck’s sake, we both know you want to wear the strappy one. So, just do it.”

  It was silent as the image on the phone blurred, then I was staring at Esther’s face. Tears welled in her eyes, and I immediately regretted my blunt words. I wasn’t one to beat around the bush, but I hadn’t meant to upset her.

  “Ezzy, don’t cry. The strappy one is pretty, and you’ll look fucking gorgeous in it. That’s all I meant.”

  Blinking profusely, she shook her head. “It won’t look right on me. I don’t even know why I took it from my sister’s closet. It’s stupid. I’ll just wear the black one.” She faked a smile. “Thanks, Silas. Sorry for bothering you. I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Esther Matilda, you listen to me right now!”

  “My middle name’s not Matilda,” she muttered.

  I narrowed my eyes in warning. “I know, but… whatever! Listen to me. You’re going to wear that strappy dress because you want to, and you’ll look great and Ronnie will totally jump your bones when he sees you in it. You want to wear it, and that’s all that matters.”

  A tear slid down her cheek, and she avoided the camera as she swiped it away angrily. “You know what people will say.”

  “Yeah, well, fuck ’em. People are gonna talk shit no matter what. They’re gonna stare at Ben and me when we dance like freaks, and even if you wore a snowsuit, they’d somehow find something to whine about. People suck.” She giggled as I fumed. “What matters is what you want and what you’re comfortable with. If you want to wear the strappy dress, then by God, rock that bitch. You’ll look beautiful.”

  “You’re good at pep talks.”

  We laughed, my neck heating. “Not really. Ben’s better.”

  “I think you underestimate yourself.” Changing the subject before I could truly blush, she asked, “What are your outfit choices?”

  I copied her actions and switched camera angles, facing the contenders. “We have Nerdy Virgin,” I said as I highlighted the first outfit, a white polo shirt under a maroon sweater over khaki slacks. “Or Catholic School Boy.” The second was the only button-up shirt I owned—black—paired with skinny jeans and rainbow suspenders—yet another gag gift from my brother.

  She burst into giggles at my inventive titles. “They both look nice. The maroon will compliment your eyes, but I like the rainbow suspenders.”

  “Those were mostly there to embarrass Ben. Revenge for making me go to this debacle.”

  “I think they’re great.” She smiled as I swapped the camera back to my face. “I vote rainbow suspenders.”

  I blew her a kiss, making her blush redder. “Girl after my own heart. That’s why we’re kindred spirits.”

  “You’re so weird.” Her pleased smile belied her words, and I winked. “Well, um, I should get dressed.”

  “Okay. Wear the strappy dress.” Inspiration hit, and I continued, “Wear a black sweater with it. You’ll feel better that way.”

  “A sweater? You mean a cardigan?”

  With an exaggerated growl, I blew a raspberry into my free palm. “Sweater, cardigan, whatever! I’m gay, not a girl. I don’t know fashion terms. Just wear it.”

  “I will as long as you wear the rainbow suspenders.” I crossed my heart, and she mirrored me. “Alright, see you later.”

  “Okay. Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  I closed the video chat and eyed the suspenders distrustfully.

  Esther, subconsciously or not, probably wanted me to wear them to detract attention from herself. Though I really had meant them as an embarrassment tool only, I didn
't mind donning them for the evening. I used Will as my excuse for owning so many rainbow-colored items, but the truth was, I kind of liked them.

  I’d always preferred bright colors over drab, boring ones. And what was brighter than rainbows? Maybe I was more flamboyant than I thought.

  With a snort, I yanked the skinny jeans up my legs and slipped a white undershirt over my head, tucking in the hem. Dressed in the black button-up, I fixed the suspenders on my body and returned to the bathroom to check the outfit as a whole.

  To be honest, I didn’t look half bad. Sure, the suspenders were a tad on the obnoxious side, but I could pull them off.

  Delving into my closet, I searched for the pair of nice Converse I’d worn to my cousin Sadie’s wedding. Somehow, they’d made themselves at home in the corner, covered by misplaced clothing. I froze with my hand outstretched as I recognized the red shirt draped over the shoes. Worn jeans were crumpled in a pile beside the shirt. Disgust skittered over my skin like centipedes as I instinctively crab-walked backward to escape the restrictive confines of the closet.

  I knew those clothes, recognized them instantly. Bile teased my throat as I stared at them through glazed eyes. My hands trembled, and the thudding of my heart throbbed in my ears, drowning out my shallow gasps for oxygen.

  Two months ago, I’d stripped those cursed clothes from my body and thrown them into the closet with the intent of burning them later. But, out of sight, out of mind, I’d forgotten them there. Those were the clothes I’d worn when Eric cornered me in that bathroom, where he’d pinned me against the wall and tried to fuck me.

  They were clothes, inanimate objects that could no more harm me than the suspenders on my shoulders. Yet, if I got too close, they would somehow smother me, I just knew it.

  I rose to my knees, eyes locked on the open closet. It mocked me, doors open in invitation to the darkness where I didn’t dare to go. Nothing but a stupid closet, it taunted me, and I blinked away tears as my fingers tapped nervously against my thighs.

  With every attempt to scooch closer, my stomach rolled, and I swallowed repeatedly as I told myself I could this. I could do this.

  Except, I couldn’t.

  I knelt before the threshold, helpless, unable to reach inside and grab my shoes.

  Everything in me wanted to walk away and leave this challenge for Future Silas to tackle. But I wasn’t a coward, dammit. How many times did I remind myself I wasn’t weak, wasn’t a victim? Yet every opportunity to prove it ended in failure. My boyfriend couldn’t touch me—hell, I couldn’t even touch myself—and now, the thought of entering my closet and existing within inches of insentient cotton fabric sickened me.

  Could I possibly be any more pathetic? No, I could not.

  Ben was wrong about me. He thought I was strong enough to face my demons, but I wasn’t. If I couldn’t win this battle, how could I possibly win the war? I was doomed.

  The only time I felt safe or brave was with him, but he couldn’t be my crutch forever. Eventually, my problems would be too great, and he didn’t deserve to get caught in my drama. I couldn’t rely on him for everything.

  But he wanted to help. He said we could figure it out together. Is this what he meant? I couldn’t do this alone, but maybe I didn’t have to. In the same way I could easily face the monsters swimming in his depths, he could battle my demons without fear. Maybe it was time to let him.

  I didn’t remember retrieving my phone, but it lay in my hand now, open to Ben’s contact. This was humiliating, but I trusted him not to mock me. If there was anyone who understood the irrational emotions overwhelming me, it would be him.

  Bringing the phone to my ear, I waited. It rang twice before it clicked.

  “Silas, if you’re calling to back out, I’m going to kill you,” Ben barked the moment he answered, slightly breathless and annoyed. “I will come to your house and drag you to the dance, pajamas be damned.”

  When I tried to reply, nothing escaped but a pitiful squeak.

  His tone softened. “Silas?”

  “I, uh, I need your help.”

  A beat of silence passed before he spoke, his tone anxious. “Is something wrong? Silas, are you okay? Are you hurt? Sila—”

  “I’m fine, Ben, calm down.” I glared at the red shirt inside my closet, grinding my teeth. “I’m not hurt, it’s just…”

  “Just?” he prompted.

  To hell with it. He’d seen me break down into tears, covered in snot with puffy eyes and splotchy cheeks. He knew more of my secrets than anyone else. What was one more embarrassing confession?

  “I was looking for my shoes, and I found my clothes”—I audibly swallowed— “from two months ago. I forgot they were in my closet. And now I can’t… it’s so stupid, Ben, but I can't touch them. But I need my shoes.”

  “It’s not stupid,” he whispered, and I snorted. “I’m serious, Silas, it isn’t stupid! You went through something terrible, and if it didn’t affect you, you’d probably be a psychopath.” I chuckled mirthlessly and heard his responding smile. “Last time I checked, you’re not a psychopath.”

  With a wry grin, I sassed him. “Tell that to the dead bodies under my bed.”

  “Right, I forgot about those,” he deadpanned, and silence stretched between us until he cleared his throat. “What do you wanna do with your clothes?”

  I shrugged, picking at my jeans. “Burn them. Melt them in acid. Cast them into the bowels of Hell.”

  “So, throw them away?”

  Nodding needlessly, I grinned despite the gravity of our conversation. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Okay, then, you have a few options. You could leave them in the closet for now until you feel better about moving them, or you could wait until I come over and we can do it together. Or, I can stay on the phone with you while you take care of them right now.”

  I appreciated his methodical approach and attempted to adopt his detachment as my own. “Is there an option four?”

  “Probably, but I’m not going to do it for you. And house-elves don’t actually exist.”

  “Damn, way to crush my dreams of getting into Hogwarts. Buzzkill.” The atmosphere lightened as I heaved a deep breath. “Ugh, fuck these clothes. They’re going to Goodwill.”

  “Okay.”

  My fingers tightened on my phone as I reached out with my free hand. “I’m just gonna, you know, grab them.”

  “If it helps, I’m not wearing pants, right now.” The off-the-wall subject change jarred me from my fright, and I burst into laughter as my hand fisted in the shirt and jeans.

  “What?”

  His embarrassment bled through the phone, coloring his voice as he snickered. “I was getting dressed when you called. I don’t have pants on.”

  With my emotions spinning on a merry-go-round, my eyes watered with humored tears as I staggered to my feet. “Thanks for the visual. I’m never opposed to talking with you when you’re half-naked.”

  Standing in the center of my room, my hand at arm’s length, I focused on Ben’s pleased, albeit shy, chuckle. “Why does that not surprise me? You’ve always had a one-track mind.”

  “Like you’re any better. You totally want my cock.” Our conversation helped distract me from the subtle musk drifting from the clothing in my hand, and I left my room on jelly-legs.

  “I’ll plead the fifth,” he joked. “Though you’re rather vain to make such assumptions.”

  “In your words, ‘I’m confident, not cocky’.”

  I maneuvered down the stairs, missing his response as I rushed through the living room and kitchen. Shouldering the basement door open, I descended the steps into the unfinished laundry room. Clothes piled in stacks, some standing in line for the washer while others were designated for donation.

  Finding a mound I knew to be old, I shoved my red shirt and jeans into the heap. Eric’s scent blasted me in the face in silent retaliation as I buried the clothes forever. My stomach heaved.

  “Silas?” I clung to Ben’s voic
e as he spoke in soothing, dulcet tones. “Everything’s okay, Si. I’m right here. You’re safe.”

  “They smelled like him. God, I can’t stand his cologne. It makes me sick.” I rambled as I fled the basement, shutting the door firmly and collapsing against it in relief. “I did it. They’re in the basement. Shit, I’m gonna barf.”

  “Just breathe. You’re okay. Everything’s okay. Breathe with me.” I obeyed as his calming tenor washed over me like a warm shower, cleansing the soiled contamination itching under my skin. “I’m sorry I’m not there, Si, but I’m so proud of you. You did great. This is huge, babe.”

  Babe. I choked. “You just called me babe.”

  “Yeah, not gonna lie, it felt weird coming out of my mouth.”

  There was a short pause before we spoke at the same time, “That’s what she said.” And then we melted into laughter.

  Fourteen

  My doorbell rang five minutes before six, and I checked my reflection in the mirror on the wall as I snatched my coat from the rack. The silliness of the rainbow suspenders glared at me, but it was too late to change. Plus, Esther and I agreed on our outfits, and I didn’t want to back out.

  Deciding I was as prepared as I could be, I slipped my coat on before opening the front door. Ben stood on my porch, dressed to the nines in a charcoal suit, ocean blue shirt that matched his eyes exactly, and a black tie knotted at his throat. His borderline-shaggy locks curled around his ears and neck in tamed waves. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he scanned me from head to toe.

  “Holy shit, you clean up nice.” I cringed at my less than romantic compliment, and Ben beamed.

  “Right back at you.” He narrowed his eyes and dragged a finger down one of my suspenders. “Seriously?”

  “What? You don’t like? I thought they were rather dashing.” I shimmied.

  He snapped the strap against my chest playfully. “Always one to make a statement.”

  I shut the door and locked it before nudging his shoulder with mine. “Says the boy who kissed me in the middle of the cafeteria in front of everyone.”