Every Hidden Truth (Far From Ruined Book 2)

by Nikole Knight

  “Oh, baby, you’re okay. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but things will get better.” She kissed my hair, massaging my back. “It’s always darkest before the dawn.”

  I swore she memorized inspirational books. She always had those sayings, delivering them like they made everything better. They didn’t, but it was nice of her to try.

  “I’m sorry, Aunt June. I didn’t know what to do.” I muffled my confession into her knit sweater. “Silas didn’t want to tell anyone, and I couldn’t betray him. I just wanted to help.”

  “Shh, it’s not your fault.” She repeated the mantra several times, and I tried to believe it.

  But somehow, it felt like my fault. The way Silas looked at me in that conference room. It was as if, for that split second, he had hated me.

  “He was scared, and I… I just wanted to help him.”

  Aunt June and my therapist, Sarah, were, until today, the only people to see me cry. I hated tears; they made me feel weak. In my head, I understood it wasn’t so, but it was an impossible truth to accept. My dad had drilled it into me never to cry.

  “Only pussies and faggots cry. So, which are you, Benji? A pussy or a faggot?”

  What a fucking asshole. I hated him almost as much as I hated Eric Boyt. Almost.

  “Benjamin, look at me.” I obeyed my aunt, sniffing as I fought for control over my traitorous tear ducts. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

  She meant the words, but I had still disappointed her. Silence was never the answer. Silence is what killed her sister. My silence is what killed my mother.

  No, I couldn’t think like that. If I did, then my hands would shake and my lungs would close. And I’d suffocate. If Aunt June saw my panic attack, she would try to get me back on my meds, and I hated those pills.

  To change the subject, I asked about the lawyer, even though I didn’t really want to know. “What did the lawyer say?”

  Judging from her pinched expression, the news wasn’t good. “She said it would be a difficult case to take to trial. Without physical evidence of either assaults—”

  “Wait, what?” I interrupted. “Either assaults? What do you mean?”

  Shifting in discomfort, Aunt June pondered her next words, delivering them carefully. “Well, according to Charlie, there were two separate times that boy attacked Silas.”

  The time behind the stage. Son of a bitch, I knew Silas was lying! I had looked him in the eye and warned him not to lie to me, but he had anyway. Because he didn’t trust me. Goddammit!

  “The second time it was just verbal, wasn’t it?” I kept my face placid, even as I raged on the inside. Aunt June bit her lip, reluctant to correct me. “Or did he try to hurt him again?”

  “Honey, I think that’s something you need to speak with Silas about.”

  It was answer enough, and I gritted my teeth to reign in my temper. Dammit, Silas! How was I supposed to help him or be there for him when he lied to me? Sure, I wasn’t the perfect model of honesty, but Jesus! I was trying here. I was doing my fucking best, and he…

  “Ben?”

  “Sorry, the lawyer said we don’t have proof?” I buried my anger down to join my misery and heartache as I focused back on my aunt.

  Rubbing my bicep, she nodded. “Without physical proof, it’s only your word against his. She advised not to press charges for the assault.”

  It was the nail in the coffin, and every drop of hope leached from my body. Pinning this on Boyt, making him pay, it was the only way to redeem myself. If Boyt got away with it, then Silas had shared his most humiliating secret for no reason. This couldn’t be happening.

  “But we’re telling the truth.”

  “The truth doesn’t change anything.” Silas’s words played through my mind, and I swallowed the lump of sand in my throat.

  “We’re not lying, Aunt June, I swear. You have to believe us—”

  She cupped my face again, wiping at my stupid tears. “Of course, I believe you, Ben. But think of Silas. Think of what he would go through if we move forward with assault charges. All the other boy needs is a good alibi.” I growled, but Aunt June continued, “There are other things we can go after him for. He made a mistake leaving those photos. It’s evidence we can use against him. But we need to choose our battles.”

  Nodding in defeat, I pulled away from her gentleness, unable to accept her comfort. “I know. It’s just… it’s not fair.”

  “As much as we wish it, life isn’t fair. You of all people know that.”

  Me of all people. Yeah, ’cause my life was nothing but a damn freak show. I was the poor foster kid, the trailer trash from the wrong side of the tracks. Nobody even knew my name until my mother’s death. And then, less than a year later, my dad went to jail for almost killing his own kid.

  Poor Benji Carson. Guess how long it took for me to drop that bastard’s name? It was my eighteenth birthday present to myself, the chance to remake the loser that was Benjamin James Carson. Thank God, I wasn’t Benji Carson, anymore. I was Ben Adams, and I wore the name proudly. Aunt June’s name. My mother’s name.

  “I, uh, I’m gonna head to bed.”

  “Ben.” I paused at the doorway but didn’t turn around as Aunt June spoke. “You have to think of what’s best for Silas. We don’t always get justice, not the way we want, but we can get closure. He can move on from this, even if that boy doesn’t see the inside of a cell. Don’t do anything you both will regret.”

  How did she know me so well? The plans weren’t finalized, but the idea had existed, forming inside my head. How I would find where Boyt lived and wait for him. How I would beat the ever-living shit out of him until he begged for mercy. But even then, I wouldn’t grant it. Because monsters like him didn’t deserve mercy.

  “Do you hear me? You’re a better man than he is. You are not your father.”

  After today, I didn’t know if I believed her. I wanted to drown my sorrows in the bottom of a bottle then set fire to Boyt’s room while he burned inside. I wanted to bury him six feet under. I’d never wanted to kill someone before, not even my own sperm donor. But Boyt? Yeah, I wanted him to suffer, to bleed, to die.

  He hurt Silas, my Silas. And he’d stolen from me. Those pictures—God, they made me sick. I had thrown up twice during my interview with the detective, barely able to give sufficient testimony through my nausea.

  And knowing a photo was sent around school didn’t help. Against my aunt’s advice, I asked to see it. Though now, I wished I hadn’t. It had been beautiful, capturing the exact moment of our passion that night in his room. Silas had been captivating, yet knowing where that picture came from, who had taken it, spoiled the treasured moment.

  Somehow, Boyt had watched through the window as Silas took a piece of whatever remaining virginity I possessed. I had never imagined sex could be like that, could feel like that. It was the best night of my life.

  But now…

  Could we even come back from this? Silas practically hated me, I was sure of it. He’d stayed, but he hadn’t truly been here with me. He had tolerated my touch, not enjoyed it. And when I tried to kiss him, he turned away. The rejection hurt worse than I could explain in words.

  Silas was a shit liar and an even worse actor. Sure, he said he loved me, but I saw the bitterness in his gray eyes. I didn’t know if he could forgive me for this.

  “Benjamin?”

  Was I still upstairs?

  “Yeah, Aunt June, I hear you.”

  As I descended the stairs, she murmured a goodnight, telling me she loved me. I thought I said it back, but my throat was clogged again so I couldn’t be sure.

  Alone in my room, I fought every urge to sneak back upstairs and steal a bottle of wine from Aunt June’s china hutch. I promised her I would stop drinking, and I had kept my vow. I didn’t want to disappoint her.

  Huddled in my bed, I closed my itchy eyes against the images of this cursed day. I didn’t want to see those pictures or the look on Ronnie’s face when
he returned from my locker. Never again did I want to watch the turmoil in Silas’s eyes as everything we had crumbled to pieces between us. I prayed Silas would never again look at me with such burning hatred as he did at that table.

  I would fix this; I had to fix this. Even if it killed me, I would bring the life back into his stormy eyes. I would protect him, take care of him. If he let me, I would love him with every breath I possessed. Because this was my fault, and I wouldn’t allow us to break over it. I refused to let him go.

  Yes, he’d lied to me. I feared this wasn’t the first time—there would be more untruths discovered, I was sure of it—but I loved him. Not even his dishonesty could drive me away. I needed him, more than what was probably healthy, and I would fight for him. He needed someone to fight for him, even if he didn’t believe himself worthy of it.

  As the hours ticked by, I eventually fell into a restless sleep. My dreams were vivid and terrifying, and it wasn’t until dawn that unconsciousness truly welcomed me into her arms. But even then, nightmares plagued me.

  My mother stood in a field, singing a haunted melody from my childhood while the wind whipped her blonde hair around her face. The clouds rolled in, dark and ominous, and lightning streaked the sky. The hairs on my arms rose as rain crashed down, obstructing my view.

  I called out to her, unable to see her through the downpour, but her song lingered, softly drifting through the air. I screamed for her until my voice was hoarse, but she couldn’t hear me over the howling of the wind. Without her, I was lost in the storm, stumbling through the mire in search of her.

  But she wasn’t there.

  “Mom?” I cried into the wind but received no answer. “Mama!”

  The loss crashed over me as sharp and painful as the first time I laid eyes on her cold, dead body floating in the water. Of course, I couldn’t find her. Because she wasn’t there. She was gone.

  As a blurry figure appeared through the rain, my heart soared with hope. Had she come back for me? Would she finally take me with her?

  But the hope died, quickly replaced with confusion. It wasn’t my mother. Instead, a beautiful boy with chestnut hair stood before me, his body covered in swirling mist as he gazed at me, lost and broken.

  “Silas?”

  “Help me.” The soft words rang above the raging storm as he urgently reached for me. “Ben, help me!”

  Desperately, I lunged toward his outstretched hand, but my feet stuck fast in the mud. My body was too heavy. No matter how hard I struggled, my legs wouldn’t budge. I was inches from him, yet he was miles away. Stretching as far as possible, I could almost reach him, our fingers centimeters from connecting. But the exact moment before our fingertips touched, he disappeared like a puff of smoke in the wind.

  “Silas!”

  It was no use. Just like my dead mother, he was gone, too. And I was left alone with nothing but the sound of her haunted voice beneath boiling gray clouds the exact shade of Silas’s eyes.

  To Be Continued…

  Also by Nikole Knight

  Far From Ruined

  Every Broken Thing

  Every Hidden Truth

  Every Twisted Lie (TBA)

  Fire & Brimstone:

  Revelations

  Sacrifice

  Stand-Alone Novels:

  The Death Games

  About the Author

  Nikole Knight is a born and bred Hoosier living in a top secret location in Europe. She’s the lone female in the house, unless you count the dog, and she writes love in all its forms, unshackled and freed.

  When she isn’t racing after a half-naked toddler or arguing with a child’s logic, Nikole can be found in her writing nook, typing away as her fingers turn to nubs.

  Email

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