Page 13 of Sinful Little Lies

Leo saw my vulnerability fairly easily and took advantage of it. If only I was smart enough to see it back then.

One day, he changed. It was that simple. I don’t know what set him off. I don’t know exactly what I said or did to lose his love. Even with years to think about it, I’m no closer to understanding it than I was on day one.

What I’m unsure of is why I continue to do it. Why do I let him get away with causing me so much physical, mental, and emotional pain?

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I don’t know what is being covered in my classes anymore. I sit in the lectures, my mind wandering to a place where pain is forbidden and peace is worshiped.

My art has been affected by the downfall of our relationship. My writing is pretty much non-existent because all of my creativity is being used to make excuses for Leo’s actions. These used to be my outlets when things got tough. They were an escape. A peaceful escape where I only needed to depend on myself to fill my canvas or the piece of paper in front of me.

My mental health is taking a turn for the worse and I feel my artistic side slowly slipping with it. I’m so tired of fighting this feeling on my own, but there’s nowhere for me to go.

You could go to him. You know you can. He wouldn’t deny you. Not like mom and dad will.

I could never run back to California and tell my parents about Leo. I’d just be met with a big, fat, “I told you so.” They were so against my choices of coming to Blackwood, to major in the arts, they would find a way to blame everything that’s happenedon me. For so long, they had pushed me to study business at Stanford and move back to California with them, but it wasn’t where my heart was. I was grateful for the distance. Grateful for the chance to express my individuality. Grateful to be able to focus on the things that mattered to me. Art, writing, keeping Ronnie’s memory alive, experiencing life for myself and not being someone’s accessory or plaything.

Look where the fuck I ended up anyway. Maybe they were right.

Every single night of my senior year of high school, I would pray to whoever would listen and ask them to change the way my parents saw me. They’ve never appreciated my talents and they sure as hell do not appreciate self-expression. All my mother cares about is preserving her looks, and my father only cares about how much money his businesses bring home.

You’d think cosmetic surgery would be put on the back burner, especially when her ten-year-old was teetering on the brink of death. But there she was, getting her third nose job just two days before Ronnie took her last breath.

The only good thing about my home life was Ronnie. Ronnie was sweet and funny and charismatic. She cared so much about others, which wasn’t a common trait that was acquired in our family. She was a vibrant energy with an infectious smile and a big heart. She was my world. Her days in the hospital consisted of her reading endless novels about love and fluffy romances that gave her the happily ever after she yearned for. Living vicariously through those characters gave her strength, hope, simple happiness. When she wasn’t reading, she was writing her own happy endings.

So many girls always wish for a big sister to show them the way. They dream of having someone older, cooler, more experienced to walk them through life. A built-in best friend who swaps secrets with you at night after your parents go tosleep. One that covers for you when you sneak out and holds you close after your first heartbreak. A sister whowantsto share her clothes with you. A sister who wants to share hertimewith you.

I never dreamed of those things because I had Ronnie. I had a little sister with such a fire in her heart. She took care of me. She held my hand through backstabbing friendships and lying teenage boys. Ronnie was my rock.

Whenever I think about her, I try to reminisce on all the good stuff. The late nights filled with gossip and movies, tanning by the pool, and creating a million inside jokes with each other. It was always me and Ronnie. Two sisters against the world.

A few days before her last, we were having a movie marathon, playing card games, and relishing in our time together. Ronnie had leaned on my shoulder and sighed.

“What’s up?” I asked, as I turned my head to place a peck on her forehead.

Another sigh, and then, “That movie we watched yesterday. The opening line was, “Bad things happen to good people,” and it has been on my mind since the moment I heard it. It’s true. I’m only ten and look at me.” She covers her face and a small sob follows.

I wrapped my arms around her and spoke lowly in her ear, “I do look at you. Everyday I admire your bravery and strength at such a young age. Everyday I think to myself of how scared you must be, but how well you hide it because you want to seem strong to those around you. You’ve brought so much light to everyone’s lives in the ten short years you’ve been here.”

Ronnie clings to me, “But what about Mom and Dad? I’m nothing but an extra bill.”

Rage filled my heart as she spoke, “Ronnie, no. You are amazing. If they can’t see that, it is there loss. You have me. I have you. We have each other. It will be us against the world. We’ll have our own place, just us, and we can fill every wallfrom top to bottom with your art. Our favorite movies and shows will run on repeat and we’ll stay up late eating garbage and gossiping about the losers we’re so done with and the cuties we're moving on to.”

Ronnie’s smile made a slight reappearance. She shook her head, accepting all that I could give her were promises that were destined to be left unfulfilled.

The sad thing is, I’m pretty sure I believed it more than she did.

She was too good for us. For our family, for this earth. Seeing her deteriorate did a number on me. I was destroyed after her passing and vowed to never let happiness sneak its way into my life. Maybe it’s why I find it so hard to leave Leo. I don’t want to find my own happiness because it feels unfair. Ronnie should have gotten her happily ever after, too. If that was unattainable in her lifetime, why do I deserve one?

Short answer, I don’t.

Besides Ronnie, the only other people I’ve been able to lean on are Aspen and Lorelei. Granted, Lorelei is a lot like my parents. Her main focus has always been herself and her grades. I know she’s under a lot of pressure to prove herself to her parents and compete with her siblings’ achievements, but gosh, would it kill her to genuinely care about someone else for five minutes?

Aspen, on the other hand, she’s quite possibly the most caring and nurturing soul to exist. She reminds me of Ronnie and I know it’s the reason I was drawn to her on the first day of our freshman year at Blackwood.

We have a new roommate this year, Blair. Let’s just say I wasn’t excited when we were notified that another student would be moving in. Mainly because I didn’t want Aspen to spend less time with me, but Blair has been nothing but a sweetheart.

I know I can tell them pretty much anything without fear or judgement, but I don’t want to place unnecessary worry in their hearts. A part of me feels like they wouldn’t be able to handle the darkness I’ve succumbed to, and I wouldn’t want to put any of them in Leo’s violent path of destruction. If anything were to happen to them because of something I said, I would never forgive myself.

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