Page 71 of The Lies We Tell Ourselves

“Yeah, exactly. He wanted to know where his ‘faggot son’ was, and was convinced I knew because we were always together. But I was just as much in the dark as he was. I never heard from him again. Days turned into weeks, then months, and then years. Before I knew it, five years had passed and there he was. And he looked…”

“Perfect?” The pained tone in B’s voice made me pause. I blinked to clear my vision and saw so much understanding etched into the lines of his face that it stole my breath.

“B?”

“We’re talking about you, not me here, Hargraves.” He wiped away all traces of emotion off his face, but he couldn’t hide what was in his eyes. I didn’t push it. “I get why you were hurt, but what made you sic the team and everyone else on him?”

Humiliation seared through my veins, and heat flushed up my neck. I cleared my throat as it became hard to breathe. “F-fear.” Tears poured down my cheeks, and my chin touched my chest as I buried my face in my hands. I was a pathetic scared little boy. Hate. Fear. Jealousy. Anger. Hurt. “I was scared of what my dad would say or do if he knew I was like Jamie. I-I mean, Jamie never said he was into boys, but everyone knew. It was obvious to anyone who knew him. Well, apart from Mr. Abernathy, but he wasn’t interested in anything other than himself and his next beer. I knew Jamie better than I knew myself. I’d always known, even if I didn’t admit it to myself. I… I should have…” I shook my head. Every word hurt to say, let alone admit. “B-but I thought I-I’d lose my place on the team… a-and I couldn’t lose that too! Christ, we both know how homophobic half the team is. Then there’s Coach. He’d most likely bench me or kick me off the team. Not surprising really, when we’re playing like sad sacks of shit, but?—”

“Dillon, you need to breathe. Otherwise, your anxiety is gonna eat away at you, and you’ll have a panic attack. Come on, man, just breathe with me.” B lifted my hand and placed it on his chest, covering it with his own. “Breathe when you feel me breathe.”

I nodded and choked on a sob that felt like it was gutting me. I hated myself. I hated how I’d let fear rule me. How I’d let it turn to hate. It was easier to hate him than face the truth about myself. If I locked it all away in a neat little box and buried it so it wouldn’t see the light of day, I wouldn’t have to face myself. I let my fucking hate consume me. When I looked in the mirror, I saw someone else. A monster. A petrified child. A fake. A fucking fraud.

I was nothing. I deserved all this and more. I didn’t know how to live with myself, let alone face Jamie again. As much as I wanted to fix this, it felt insurmountable. I didn’t know if I was strong enough to try.

“That’s it Dillon. You’re doing great,” B said as my breath hitched in my throat. It burned with every breath. Tears and snot poured down my face as I broke. My walls came down, and I was left staring at what I’d become. Putrid. Rotten to the core.

Sometimes, the lies we tell ourselves are the most dangerous of all. They infect your brain and alter reality to fit the narrative your mind created, refusing to see the truth that is right in front of you no matter how much it hurts to keep believing the lie. No matter who is left broken and bleeding along the way. You cling to it—the lie—even as it kills you, because that’s better than being wrong. That’s the destructive power of a lie.

“Do you know why he left now?” B asked softly, hesitantly.

I nodded and curled my legs up to my chest, hugging them tightly to me. “I do… I fucking do, and t-that’s what makes it worse. W-what I did to him, Taylor. I-I fucked up so bad. H-he said that…” My throat closed up the truth, a noose around my neck.

“Shhhh, it’s only me, and I’m on your side here, Dillon, no matter what.”

“”H-he told me… he told…” It was like pulling teeth trying to get my mouth and brain to work together. Every time I tried, my blood grew hotter as my anger rose within me. “He… he told me t-t-that they were… put into… w-witness protection. T-that his dad beat his mum, S-Selene, almost to d-death.” I roared as I pushed through the pain of telling him the truth. “I’m a fucking disgusting person. I make myself sick.”

I threw my legs over the side of the bed and paced around the room, yanking on my hair as frustration made my skin crawl. My heart shattered, sending shrapnel running through my veins. “He was running for his fucking life and had to leave everything he loved behind. And me?” I bellowed. “I was throwing a fit because he left me and didn’t say goodbye. In what fucking world is that a normal reaction? He’s suffered and lived in fear for years. And me? I fucked the prom queen to fit in. Then I had you guys… Gah! Everyone targeted him because I hated him. Because I said so.” My fist broke through the drywall as my temper got the better of me. Maybe if I got myself locked up, then I wouldn’t be able to hurt him again.

“I’m a selfish piece of shit who threw his toys out of his stroller, because I lost my favorite one. I make myself sick.” My other fist went through, and plaster dust filled the air. “He hates me, B. He was crying, and I dragged him off my bed and threw him on the floor and yelled at him.” My legs gave out underneath me, knees smashing into the unforgiving floorboards. The maelstrom of emotion inside me severed that last thread of sanity, and I screamed at the unjustness of it all. I fucked up. I created a lie I told myself and hurt the only person that has ever mattered to me. My heart thundered against my sternum so hard, I was amazed the bone didn’t break. I pounded the floor with my fists until my knuckles were split and bleeding, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. I cried because I loved him. I cried because I hated him when he loved me. My body shook as it tore apart, refusing to connect the monster I’d become.

“Hey. Hey, it’s okay, Dillon. I’ve got you.” Buchanan wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his side. The contact grounded me as he soothed his hand up and down my back. He held me until I stopped shaking, until my tears ran dry, and my screams turned to hiccuped sobs. “I’m here, and I’ll help you get him back. I know what it’s like to love someone who doesn’t even notice you exist.” I pulled back and looked at him with wide eyes. His sad smile said so much, and his pain echoed mine.

“Tell me who she is,” I growled and clenched my bloodied fists.

He cleared his throat and ran a shaky hand through his hair. “He is the most amazing person I’ve ever met. He doesn’t see it, but he really is.” He sighed, shoulders slumping. “But he’s in love with someone else, and I’ll never compete against them.”

“Oh, Taylor, I’m so sorry.” His face was a complex mixture of emotions I couldn’t decipher. “C-can I ask you a question then?”

“You already did!” He grinned, lightening the mood.

“Are you gay?”

Buchanan burst out laughing and wiped a tear from his eye as we laid back on the floor. “You’ve seen me fuck how many girls?”

“Yeah, that’s true. So what are you? I know I’m being blunt?—”

“When are you not?” he interrupted with a smirk. “I’m pan. It’s all about my connection with the person. Gender doesn’t come into it for me.”

“Oh.”

“You look so shocked!” He laughed, even though his eyes still drowned in pain.

“You kept that from me?” I grumbled, feeling slightly hurt until he pinned me with a look as he turned to face me.

“You’re really saying that? After all of this?”

“I guess I did,” I croaked. “I told you—I’m a dick. And I guess I feel bad you couldn’t tell me.”

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