by Duggan, K A
Sweet Deceit
K A Duggan
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
16. Bonus Chapter
Acknowledgments
Felicity
Current mood – Philosophical with a chance of bad decision making.
Regret level – 50/50
My decision was made in the blink of an eye. Which, for someone as decisively challenged as I am is not only out of character but should be deeply worrying. I guess once you’ve reached your limit nothing else matters. Circumstances made it so and I never looked back.
All it took was my last visit and the answer to my problems became crystal clear.
Escape.
It was the only logical thought my brain managed to desperately grasp on to.
Just go. Run.
And as I stepped out into the car park, the rain falling all around me, inadvertently masking my tears, I decided to listen for once. It’s amazing how and when clarity chooses to present itself and what that moment of clarity can do for your soul. I made a vow to myself, only honouring it wasn’t going to be as straightforward as the thought of it alluded to be.
Considering recent developments, it shouldn’t be my main concern. But it is. Because I’ve let it be. I’ve allowed it to push everything else aside. The other issues are inconsequential because I have this. It came along and announced its importance like a radio in my head that won’t switch off. It’s deafeningly loud, drowning out every other concern and ensuring it’s the only thought I can focus on, because the other questions… they’re even more ludicrous. It’s a thought that I hoped could remain behind an elusive fog.
But at some point, fog always clears, revealing the way forward once again.
The idea had been present for weeks, lingering somewhere in the recesses of my mind. Gradually it began gnawing at me from the inside out. Begging me to fulfil its wishes. I’d managed to exile it, for the most part, hidden in the background, concealed by shadows. I stubbornly ignored its taunts and tricks like a petulant child as it screamed at me to acknowledge it. I’d done well, but on this particular day, it upped the ante, as though it could sense my fragility. I didn’t want to think about what I’d just left, what I was going home to or what my future held so I allowed it in. Little by little. I let this consume me instead. It seemed the lesser of two evils.
I judged myself as was only right to do so, I let myself burn with shame for even thinking it but only for a fraction of a second.
Only, now it’s free due to sheer persistence and I guess as much as I don’t want to, I have to decipher the answer.
What could make a sensible woman journey halfway across the world on nothing more than a whim?
It’s not a trick question. But there are multiple answers.
The main answer’s easy, right? At least, it should be.
Clearly a boy. No, scratch that – a man.
A man that has absolutely no idea I’m coming. A man that likely has no desire to see me. A man I can’t stop thinking about. No, obsessing about would be closer to the truth. Yet, I’m going anyway.
Maybe it’s as simple as… I’m not a sensible woman.I used to be. Being sensible is how I was raised, it’s all I know. My safeguard. Irresponsibility isn’t in my genes as far as I know. But then genes have proven to be fickle. Only passing down certain traits as it sees fit. You can’t pick and choose what you ‘get’ and you only get what you’re given. Inheritance is funny like that. But to be acting on this leads me to believe maybe the real me is less suppressed than I’ve always believed.
Reckless. Free-spirited. All words one wouldn’t possibly associate with me… before.
I have the answer.
The real answer.
I just don’t want to acknowledge it. I never wanted to give life to it so I kept locking it away, pushing it aside with all the other swirling thoughts. Pretending that dismissing it would lead to its disappearance once and for all and I could concentrate on forging ahead with my crazy plans.
This spur of the moment decision has run away with me and is now completely out of hand. I know this because I’m not completely crazy. But still, I have to do it. This infatuation I’ve nurtured has become too huge to ignore. It’s an itch I absolutely have to scratch and sanity doesn’t stand a chance. I know what will happen when I get there. I know. Yet I’m still packing as though I’m off to my happily ever after. Because they must be real, right? Why else would we be brought up on such stories of hope for the future if there is no truth to them?
This has played out in my dreams repeatedly and it nearly always ends the same way. He’ll likely open the door, maybe if I’m lucky, recognise me on a sub-conscious level and then slam it in my face as he launches ‘fuck off!’ at me.
I’ll then probably end up with a restraining order.
Go big or go home. Right?
In my case, I should probably just stay home. Actually, there’s no probably about it; I really should stay home. I’ve been left with huge responsibilities that at the moment I have no inclination to face. Some would call this running away, fleeing from something too painful to stand and conquer. Some would say I’m a coward. Shirking my responsibilities. But the opinions of others have never concerned me.
Being flighty has never been attractive to me. I was raised better than this, but now, everything is in question. The weight of what faces me has left me with no choice. I’m desperate to escape and evade just for a momentary reprieve. A lapse in time where I don’t have to make the right choices, where I can be someone else. Someone that doesn’t have it all together. Someone like all the other someone’s tripping through life, having the ability to learn from their mistakes instead of always making the correct choice first time.
So, I keep telling myself, I’m not running away from my newfound burdens … I’m grasping my chance at living. At least, that’s how I dress it up to myself. That kind of thought process is definitely preferable, it’s prettier and more acceptable. And this is why I’m really going… there’s a tiny chance he’ll let me in. Not just to his home but in time maybe into his heart. Granted it’s more like miniscule but still a chance nonetheless. A tiny possibility that’s grown wings and is taking me along for the flight of my life. The romance books I read have filled my head with notions. Notions that real life, if we want it badly enough, can play out like a work of fiction.
See, I don’t have anyone to rein me in. No parents, no friends. No well-meaning colleagues or neighbours.
Except for Gerry, I suppose. But for the time being, I’m not taking his calls.
I’m isolated. At least, that’s how it feels. How I’ve always felt.
Alone. With no one that can relate to these feelings.
For the first time in my life, I’m completely and solely reliant on myself.
I’ve never minded my own company, in fact, I enjoyed it. I was encouraged to be a loner. Mingling was strictly prohibited. I was stalled at every avenue of normality from childhood. The experiences other children took for granted, I longed for. Homeschoolingwas the main barricade between myself and my peers. My parents had so many expectations for me that also living up to society’s equally high standards would have been impossible. So, I have no one to warn me how crazy, idiotic and downright stupid I’m being. The rational side of me tries. It really does, but the hopeful side always overrules.
M
y life has been a series of secluded, sheltered memories. And I’m desperate to make new ones… better ones.
Real ones.
Because now, I loathe my own company. The silence. Such deafening silence.
I didn’t know the quiet could be so loud.
I didn’t know solitude could be so overbearing.
I didn’t know ‘in sickness and in health’, applied without the marriage.
And it’s not just the conversation I miss, simple things like a smile or laugh, a reassuring hug… anything from anyone.
Just so I know I’m still alive.
So I know I still matter.
So I know I still count in this big bad world.
So I know I still am someone’s whole world.
Because without something as basic as human interaction I’ll wither faster than if I went without sustenance. It’s a basic need in life. The simplest. But only when it’s taken away do we realise how truly important and essential it is. When we’re left with this unexplainable void. I want to live the life I yearn for not the life I’ve repeatedly been told I should lead. I want more. I crave more. So much more than what’s been expected of me.
I want to live life to its fullest because we never know what it has in store for us. We can’t predict what’s around the corner. We only have today and today I’ve chosen.
Freedom.
And, for the first time in my life, I have it. What I do with it is all open to interpretation.
What I want to do with it I probably shouldn’t. But who’s going to hold me back?
For the first time in my life, I can be me.
The real me, whoever she is.
Discovering her is what life is all about.
* * *
I admit this strategy of mine could be planned better, should be planned more thoroughly, paying attention to detail like I was raised to but that isn’t what spontaneity is about. And I’ve decided being responsible isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. This man is no ordinary man, he isn’t someone you can just strike a conversation up with. He doesn’t do pointless, polite chit chat. You can only get on his radar by appealing to his interests, by having more depth to your discussions. A little stroking of his ego also goes a long way. He doesn’t beat around the bush, he doesn’t fake niceties. He’s the most real person I’ve encountered on social media.
Shit! Did I leave that part out?
I know what you’re thinking. I also thought about the wackos that meet on dating websites.
This is different.
I’m not entirely sure how… but it is. For one – I didn’t find him on a dating website. Nope. Forget Tinder and Plenty of Fish. I found my love match on regular old Facebook… He just doesn’t know it. Because for now, it’s totally one-sided. But I have plans and making this a two-way street is my main objective.
I’m a fan of his and no he isn’t a celebrity – I’d never stalk one of those. We’re friends… as much as we can be only communicating online. I pray daily that I’m not being catfished because his personality is amazing but let’s be honest, the pictures I’ve seen of him were the first draw. You have to be attracted to someone first and foremost, the great personality is a bonus. If I get there and he doesn’t really exist, if Ash turns out to be Bob or Fred or some other random dude I’ll be shattered.
I can’t totally explain his pull. What caught me in his web initially were his words, his mind, the beautifully crafted story he had created. A quick internet search then revealed he was hot, insanely, unfairly so. I’ve never seen a person sculpted to such perfection and I couldn’t stop my fingers from flying over the keyboard and sending him a message.
That would have been it.
But he responded.
Ever since then if he replies to my comments or messages even with the slightest remark, my body goes crazy. Do you remember your first love? Or your first lust? The guy that caused you to walk a fine line between obsession and rationale. The guy that could walk into a room and your belly would flip, your heart would thump and your legs would shake. If they rang you, you lit up from inside and butterflies ran amok. Everything about them just did it for you.
Yeah, well that’s what he does. So as much as I should ignore it, I’m not. We only get one life. I’m going to grab mine, hold on so tight and agree with everything it suggests.
He’s been the best and most welcoming distraction for the last six months. Ever since I stumbled across him accidentally. Not that I truly believe it was accidental – fate has a purpose, it can only point us the right way, show us a path and if we’re lucky enough give us a nudge in the right direction. Our paths aligned because of a series of shitty events. I have to believe this option only became available to me to change my future for the better. More than anything I wholeheartedly believe that if we can just meet, even for the briefest of moments our eternity will be cemented.
He has no idea I’m crushing on him. He’s never seen a picture of me and he doesn’t know my real name, so I guess if anyone is the catfish here it’s me. I immersed myself in his life from afar. He’s briefly touched on the females who throw themselves at him, who act like idiots in his presence and this is why I can’t let him know I’m coming. I don’t want to be judged like them. I want to see if he really is as good in person as he is behind a computer screen. I need to witness face to face if the supposed truths he’s told hold up, or if I’ve been wrapped up in more lies, if he’s also sold me falsity. I need him to be my escape because like I said before… I have no-one else.
I’m not going to be held back by fears. Because what I do now, rightly or wrongly, will be what I look back on when I’m old and frail and stuck in some nursing home and you know what? I’ll be able to smile at the insane antics I got up to. The impossible situations I got through because I had guts. I chose to really live, come what may.
Even if right now it makes me cry.
I will be able to smile.
We should all take more chances. Instead of building up the worst that can happen scenarios, we should just do it. Half the people we concern ourselves with over what their opinion will be and how we’ll be viewed – don’t matter. These people are jealous that they can’t break free. That they can’t set out their own destiny instead of being held back by what’s expected. They’re chained. Shackled. And if they can’t break free they expect others to share in their misery.
Being good is exhausting. This, though alien feels liberating.
Who wants mediocre?
Who wants to be part of the norm?
So, I’m opting to be part of the abnormal. The dreamers, the wanderers, those that don’t fit so compactly into society. And that’s okay. My dreams might come true by taking this risk and if they don’t…
I’ll move on to the next pipe dream.
Felicity
Current mood – Slightly Extroverted bordering on impulsive
Regret level - Undecided
The most ridiculous part of this whole plan is that I’ve never travelled before, never ventured further than my hometown of London. Fear held me back, something my parents fiercely instilled in me and though I’ve decided to ignore it, to push through and banish those intrusive thoughts, sometimes they fight back harder and break through. My parents were a weird breed, completely successful, confident and go-getting but, they kept me on a tight leash. That leash became even tighter once my father left, my mother’s overprotectiveness unleashing full force. We were practically recluses.
Technically, my travel plans aren’t across the world, but to me they may as well be. I have a huge tendency for exaggeration. I’ve never flown, so even a one hour journey seems lengthy to a newbie. I looked into other ways of getting to him, but car and Ferry would have taken too long. I don’t have that kind of patience, so I sucked up my gnawing fears and booked a flight; my destination, Ireland.
In my current no shits given mood I make it to the airport. I make it past all the check-ins and the queues and get on the plane. Tick
ing each new experience off my invisible checklist whilst inwardly patting myself on the back for my bravery. I spend my time aboard the plane clutching the armrest for dear life convinced we’ll crash and that I’ll die. Flying is not fun, not the tiniest bit enjoyable at all. And I try to enjoy it, I really do. It’s a new experience so I aim to soak it up but I guess shirking the ingrained lessons I’ve been taught all my life are harder to shake than I wanted them to be. White knuckle rides are a thrill I won’t be seeking again.
New - I want.
Terrifying - I don’t.
But then, aren’t all new things terrifying? Taking that leap of faith into the unknown and hoping you come out the other end unscathed?
I chalk it up as a means to an end and the relief that it’s over is immense. I make a quick stop off at my hotel to drop off my suitcase and then flag a taxi down to make a beeline straight for his.
My ride is spent with no trepidation whatsoever. No nerves, doubts or second thoughts. Just eagerness, anticipation and excitement. Urgency bubbling in my veins. How I don’t bounce around in my seat like a bottle of pop I don’t know.
I get to my destination in record time realising in my haste that I didn’t stop to freshen up or change. My unrealistic expectations propelled me forward and I find myself walking through the front door to his apartment building. This entire trip, from the plane journey to this exact moment I’ve had a one-track mind - get to him. It’s been my only focus, playing in my head on a loop. I haven’t allowed myself time to stop and think because that’s when the insanity will smack me in the face and push me off course. I just have to get to him and away from where I came.
