Vicious Lies

by Ella Miles

  Before she asks more questions, I pull her into my bedroom.

  It wasn’t my intention to bring her here. I had other plans for Liesel, but the second I drag her into my bedroom and shut the door, I realize this is where I need her.

  Liesel’s eyes bulge as she looks around the room, another combination of my and Liesel’s dreams. It can turn into a dark cave, like I wanted, at a push of a button—the curtains close, the lights dim, and a dark duvet gets thrown over the bed. But it’s also what Liesel envisioned—light, bright, and airy with a picturesque view of the ocean, a balcony for two, and a mostly outdoor bathroom ensuite.

  Liesel smiles, really smiles. “You did it. You built our dream. It’s beautiful.”

  I’m silent for a moment.

  “It’s not yours.”

  Her smile falters. “I never thought it was.”

  “You’re not going to get free, Liesel. There is no way off this island. You’ll live the rest of your life here. You’ll die here.”

  “Then, lucky for me, I’ll die in my dream house.”

  I nod.

  She glances out the window, her smile returning. “That is if Waylon doesn’t come for me.”

  “Waylon has money, but no skills. He will never find you. And I doubt he loves you enough to devote his life to searching for you, which is what it would take to find you.”

  She tucks her mud and leaf-stricken hair behind her ear. “Waylon loves me more than you know. He asked me to marry him.”

  My throat tightens, and my eyes flatten into slits. I grab her left hand, not believing I missed anything. I hold it up.

  “I don’t see a ring.”

  She pulls her hand free. “I don’t need a ring for Waylon to prove his love for me. For us to promise to spend our life together forever.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  She shrugs. “You don’t have to. I’m just trying to warn you. Waylon will come after me. He’s not just a fling. He’s the only man I’ve ever loved. And somehow, he feels the same way about me. He loves me. He’d die for me. He won’t give up searching for me once he realizes I’m taken.”

  Liesel is an excellent liar, but it doesn’t feel like she’s lying now. She has to be. She can’t be engaged. She can’t want another man. She can’t…

  “As I recall, you told him you’d be gone for three weeks. So we have at least that long before he suspects anything.”

  She shakes her head. “He’ll expect me to call, to text. We’ve never gone three weeks without a healthy round of phone sex. You saw how we fucked on the cameras, don’t deny it. He’ll come looking for me before three weeks.”

  “That display of sex wasn’t love!” I yell in her face.

  “How the hell would you know? You haven’t ever been in love!”

  I open my mouth to scream a truth and stop myself at the last second. I will never admit the truth.

  Instead, I grab her arm and pull her into the bathroom.

  “Clean yourself off. I’ll be back tonight, and you and I will have a little chat about your lying. Until then.”

  I step back and slam the bathroom door shut, locking her inside.

  My blood is boiling. The only person in the world who can drive me this mad is now locked in my bathroom. Those walls won’t hold her. If she decides she wants to escape, she can.

  The only way to prevent her from running is being with her, but I can’t stay here another moment. I need a break. I need to remember why I’m doing this.

  Fuck, I need Liesel out of my life for good.

  19

  Liesel

  It may look like Langston just got the upper hand. I’m locked in his bathroom, after all.

  But I won.

  I pushed enough buttons that Langston can no longer stand the sight of me. He’s losing control already.

  He said he’s going to kill me, and I believe him.

  He said he’s learned patience—that I don’t believe. If I can get him to lose control, maybe he’ll slip, say some hint of his truth or give me a clue of how I can escape.

  He ran off instead of laying down the law like he wanted to.

  I grin wide.

  I’m not going to worry about Langston. Right now, I’m going to enjoy this glorious bathroom—a bathroom I dreamed about when we were kids.

  This house only confuses me more. Why did Langston build the house we dreamed of as kids? Why, if he’s hated me this entire time? Wanted me dead?

  So he could torture me with it, that’s why.

  I won’t let him win. I’ll enjoy every second of my time in this house, and I won’t let him control me.

  The entire house is built to enjoy the elements. The bathroom is no different. The shower and tub sit just outside of the main house amongst exotic plants, providing some privacy but allowing you to shower outside while looking at the ocean. There is a freestanding sink attached to the house, and a door that leads to what I assume is the toilet room.

  I have my eyes on the shower and tub, trying to choose which one I’m going to use. I suspect Langston will have me locked in here all day, so I decide to shower first to get the muck off, then bathe to soothe my sore muscles.

  I step into the glass shower filled with more buttons than a computer after stripping out of my dirty clothes and leaving them in a pile on the bamboo floor.

  When I press one of the buttons, the walls slink away into the floor, and then I’m truly showering outside.

  I take my time washing, then spend an hour soaking in the tub, letting all thoughts of Langston slip away. Only once an hour has passed of enjoying the ocean, the sun, and the warm, relaxing tub do I let myself think about where I am and what’s going to happen next.

  I climb out of the bath and look for clothes, but I find none except for the filthy rags that I wore here. I won’t be putting those clothes back on.

  I find a white robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door and put that on.

  Langston wants me to stay locked up like Rapunzel in a tower.

  I glance over the edge of the balcony and smile.

  Well, he shouldn’t have made it so easy for me to escape then.

  I’m on the second floor, but jungle vines have grown up most of the balcony.

  Without thinking too hard about what I might break if I fall, I hook a leg over the edge and then the other. I hold onto the railing as I try to find my footing.

  The sun beats down, making the task harder, as does the robe that I keep stepping on unintentionally.

  “Here goes nothing,” I say, letting my weight down onto one of the vines.

  It holds.

  I exhale a deep breath as I start scaling down the vines.

  My vine breaks.

  I fall, holding onto the vine for dear life, hoping I’ll stop.

  I do, inches from the ground.

  “Holy hell.” I laugh, because what else are you supposed to do when you almost fall to your death?

  I untangle myself from the vine and land on my feet. I retie the robe around me and glance at the house, expecting to see Langston or one of his men chasing after me. This wasn’t about escaping; it was about letting Langston know that he loses once again.

  I spot the security camera, and I flip it off.

  When I glance back through the glass of the house, I don’t see anyone coming to chase after me.

  Not Langston.

  Not his guards.

  No one.

  I squint at the camera. Langston is watching, surely, but he’s allowing me to be free.

  Huh.

  Still, I don’t want to push my luck. I’d prefer to be free as long as I can.

  Langston said this island was uninhabited. Obviously, that isn’t true, so we must be somewhat close to other houses, businesses, people.

  I climb down the cliffside to the beach. There is nothing but beautiful white sand for as far as I can see in either direction.

  My feet are already burning in the sand. I wish I had shoes, clothes, s
omething other than this damn robe, but I’ll take what I can get. The robe is better than the muddied clothes I had.

  So I walk and walk and walk.

  I find nothing.

  No houses.

  No buildings.

  No people.

  There are obviously people on the island, but they don’t live close to Langston. It would take a very long journey to reach another house from here.

  And the fact that Langston didn’t send anyone after me tells me he’s not worried about me running into anyone.

  I sludge back to the house as the sun begins to dip toward the water.

  Several of Langston’s employees are going in and out of the house—cleaning, bringing in supplies, cooking.

  “Miss Dunn, I have dinner ready for you. Where would you like to eat it?” a man in jeans and a dark shirt asks me.

  I’m surprised he talked to me after Langston made it clear earlier in the day that no one was to talk to me.

  “And you are?”

  He shakes his head. “I can bring your dinner out to eat on the terrace.”

  I sigh but nod.

  He disappears inside.

  I look more carefully at the employees going in and out. They are all muscled, have guns, could be killers themselves. That’s why Langston hired them.

  “Here you are, Miss Dunn.” The man returns with a plate of food and sets it on the round table at the edge of the terrace.

  “Thanks,” I say, unsure of myself as he pulls out the chair for me like I’m dining at a five-star restaurant instead of being fed while captive on an island.

  He nods, as I sit, and then disappears back inside.

  I’m alone again.

  I eat my food quickly, realizing I’m hungrier than I thought. I don’t taste the food, I inhale it.

  I don’t know when to expect Langston, but I do know that he’s been watching me. He knew the second I would return and had food prepared for me.

  So it doesn’t surprise me that the second I finish eating, Langston appears.

  He doesn’t speak or walk loud enough to make his presence known, but my heart recognizes the second he’s near.

  I look up at him standing in the shadows, just outside the house.

  I stare back.

  “Did you enjoy your walk?” he asks.

  “It was just great, especially knowing there were men watching my every step.”

  He chuckles. “Up for another walk?”

  I tilt my head. “I thought you gave commands, not asked questions.”

  “I’ll be giving orders soon enough. I’ll let you decide where we talk tonight.”

  I stand. “Where do you want to walk?”

  “Down to the beach.”

  I nod.

  He picks up a small bag I didn’t notice on the floor and slings it over his shoulder, before taking off down the cliffside.

  I follow after, still barefoot in my robe.

  Langston walks to the edge of the water then plops his bag down. He pulls out a towel and lays it out before sitting down on it. Langston turns and looks at me.

  All I see is the glistening water reflecting off the blueness in his eyes. He looks warm and welcoming, not like the killer he is.

  He pats a spot on the towel next to him.

  I take a deep inhale before sitting down beside him. I’ll reserve my strength to fight him later when I’m really going to need it.

  Langston gives me a slight nod of approval and then pulls out two lowball glasses.

  “Hold,” he says, handing them to me.

  I take them and hold while he pours two fingers of scotch into each glass. He remembers my favorite drink.

  I frown as my eyes slant up to meet his.

  “What is this? Why are you being nice?”

  He takes his glass and takes a long sip.

  “I’m not being nice. This conversation could go long, and I want to be able to enjoy myself while we talk.”

  I roll my eyes. “Liar. Then why do I get a glass?”

  “The drunker you are, the more likely you are to spill the truth and put us both out of our misery.”

  I down my drink and hold it out with a smug expression.

  He shakes his head.

  “You don’t get more until I say so. We are going for tipsy, not passed out throwing up everywhere drunk.”

  I pout and continue to hold my glass out to him.

  “You look ridiculous,” Langston says.

  I sigh and set my glass down. “You used to like it.”

  “Never.”

  A wave splashes hard against the sand, distracting us both for a moment. The sun has almost completely set, and we simply enjoy the view, waiting for the colors to fade and darkness to settle in before we talk about the darkness we both share.

  When the last of the light leaves the sky, Langston finally talks.

  “One year.”

  My head whips to him.

  “You will stay on the island for one year. That’s the timeline I’m giving you. One year to tell the truth. One year until you die.”

  My mouth dries. Now I wish I hadn’t downed the scotch so quickly.

  Langston notices, or it’s a strange coincidence, because he picks up my glass and pours me more scotch. He then takes my hand and places the glass in it.

  “Thanks,” I whisper, my throat burning from the single word. I take a small sip, savoring it this time.

  “Every night I will give you the opportunity to extend your time or reduce it. If you lie, your time shrinks, and I will punish you. If you tell the truth, you gain time, and your time here will be more enjoyable.”

  One year.

  I’m still caught on that part.

  I can’t stay on this island for a whole year.

  Langston said I would die in one year. Death doesn’t scare me, but the thought of being trapped this long, even in this beautiful of a place, sends icy blades jolting down my spine.

  “During the day, you can spend your time however you want. Check out the island, swim, read a book, plan your escape, I don’t care. But you will spend it away from me.”

  My eyes narrow, and my forehead wrinkles. “Why?”

  “Why do you think?” he breathes, his breath full of warm alcohol. He’s had more than the single scotch to drink tonight.

  I don’t answer. I honestly don’t know why he hates me so much.

  “At night, you can sleep in my bed or be locked up.”

  “Locked up. There is no way I’d be able to sleep with you in my bed,” I retort without a thought.

  His fist tightens around his glass, but he doesn’t say anything.

  “This is where you’ll meet me every night after the sun sets. You’ll make your choice—tell me a truth to gain more time alive, or lie and lose time. Depending on what you tell me, I’ll decide how much time to add or take away. Or…” He stops and takes another swig of his scotch.

  “Or you tell me every truth on your half of that piece of paper right now and I’ll let you live.”

  I purposefully don’t look at him as he speaks. Langston is a good liar when he wants to be. His sparkling ocean eyes, his bright smile, his sun-kissed hair all make him look like a handsome lifeguard about to save me.

  But he’s like medusa, one look at him and he’s deadly. His look can kill.

  I know his tricks, though, so I don’t look. I don’t listen to the timbre of his voice or the shift of his weight in the sand. I definitely don’t listen to my own heart, because that sucker just wants to get laid.

  No, I take my cues from the wind, the ocean, the stars. I listen to the truth that only the world holds. There is no listening to Langston.

  He knows there is no way I’m telling him what’s on my half of the letter, a letter he ripped and stole. A letter he should have never even known about.

  “What did I do to deserve death?” I continue to look at the ocean instead of him.

  Our relationship is complicated; it always has been. We’v
e saved each other as much as we’ve tormented each other. Protected each other as often as we’ve thrown the other to the wolves. And yet, we’ve never threatened to kill each other.

  I’m missing something—something vital.

  “You know what you’ve done. You may not realize that I know, but I do. Just think about the worst thing you’ve ever done and start there. That’s why you deserve to die.”

  He pauses.

  “I’m giving you a way out. You can live if you tell me everything tonight—right here, right now. This is your only chance to tell the full truth. Tell me the truth tonight, and I’ll save you. Tell me a lie, and you’ve sealed your fate. This is a one time offer. Take it or leave it. Life or death.”

  I chuckle. “God, you are such an impatient man.” Finally, I look at him and take in his big frustrated eyes, his ruffled blonde hair, and his stern lips. I’m used to smiling Langston. As a kid, he would always rather be playing than stewing in his anger.

  “Impatient or not, I’d take my offer. Save yourself.”

  “You mean, tell you the truth so you will have no use for me and will kill me faster?”

  He growls.

  I growl back, but it’s the truth. No matter what I choose, I’ll end up dead at Langston’s hand if I don’t figure out a way to stop him. The only way I live is to be more valuable to him alive than dead. As long as I have my secrets, I’ll stay alive.

  But I’ll be trapped.

  “What will it be, Liesel?”

  I fold my knees up and rest my arm against my knee, holding my glass. I stare at it, wishing we could both just tell the truth.

  I’m not afraid of death—I just don’t want to die at Langston’s hands.

  I spot the tattoo I got on the inside of my wrist.

  I smile, knowing the story I’m going to tell tonight.

  It’s been one month since I was raped.

  My life is spiraling.

  And no one has noticed.

  One. Whole. Month.

  I walk into high school on the first day of my senior year expecting everyone to notice that I’m different, that everything has changed.

  My locker is next to Enzo’s.

  I walk up to my shiny red locker where Enzo, Langston, and Zeke are gathered.

  “Really? You couldn’t let his best friends have the locker right next to him? Now, we have to deal with your overpowered perfume smell, glitter, and bobby pins every time we want to come to our lockers,” Zeke complains like a bitch.