Page 69 of Little Liar
What? A friend? Is this asshole for real right now?
I don’t need a fucking friend. I have Olivia. I used to have friends, and they vanished when I was arrested—they didn’t even attempt to stick around, so what the fuck is the point in finding a friend? I’m not some kid with baggage and a need for socialization.
I had someone I considered a best friend. I still haven’t found the courage to see where he is or what he’s doing out of pure shame for blocking him out of my memory.
“Okay,” he says, knowing I’m no longer going to reply to anything. “I think it would be very helpful to do the reading I suggested. Even just for ten minutes a day. I’ll see you back here in three days. Go to one of those meetings.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I’m itching for this to be over already so I can message Olivia and take her home. Lying in bed with her is my safe place, and I really fucking need it right now.
Before I dropped her off at work this morning, she asked me again to take her on a date—I said no obviously. There’s no need for us to pretend we’re teenagers again and act like our worlds don’t revolve around one another.
Once our next session is booked, I grab the homework and fold it into my pocket, then pick up my helmet. I unlock my phone and see the message isn’t from Olivia; it’s an alert that some of my meds are ready. It takes me five minutes to ride to the pharmacy. It’s just down the road from the courthouse where Olivia works with Mom.
I’m surprised I’ve not had any messages from her, complaining about Mom or whatever bullshit she throws her way for not only ditching the wedding she planned but also for being off work for the last week.
Mom won’t like that we’re together, but fuck her.
If Xander has anything to say, I’ll fuck him up too.
I park the bike up outside the pharmacy, open my seat, and hunt for the list of meds I’ve to pick up. Olivia told me to mark off the ones I have to make sure I don’t forget any.
Once inside and waiting, my fingers fidget, alternating between tapping the arms of the chair then twisting together inmy lap while I wait for my name to be called by the pharmacist. It’s just after three, and Olivia finishes work in an hour.
An old lady keeps looking at me. Her gaze trails down my arms, grimacing at my ink, then moves to my neck and the red mark from Olivia claiming me last night. She whispers something to her little friend, and both of them stare like I’m some disgusting piece of shit they’ve never come across before.
Why do they keep looking at me? It’s not as if I’m any different from half the population. I don’t have ink on my forehead saying “fuck you”. I’m not scowling or giving anyone attitude. I’m silent, like I always am, and they’re still watching me like I’m going to stab them or steal their purses.
They shake their heads, and I fist my hands.
Would Olivia care if I killed two grandmas? Maybe I can make it look like an accident, or they just disappear altogether without a trace of evidence leading investigators back to me.
“Vize,” a voice calls, grabbing my attention. She asks me to confirm my date of birth and address. I struggle to get the words out, and the grandmas behind me huff at how slow I’m being. I want to drive my fist into their faces, but I hold back and take the plastic bag filled with a number of different pill bottles.
I don’t know what half of them are, but Olivia does. She has a contraption with the days of the week on it, each section filled with different tablets. Certain ones need to be taken at certain times of the day, and she has a whiteboard in one of our side rooms that she marks off whenever I swallow a pill. She’s organized and obsessed, and me being the big brother who wants to please his sister, I do as I’m told and take the damn things.
Olivia hasn’t responded to my last message. I stare down at my phone as I toss the pills into the storage under the seat.
Me: Such a bossy little sister.
I type out another.
Me: I’m driving over for you now.
She’ll argue with me that she isn’t getting on my bike, but I’ll force her on, even if I need to knock her out and sit her in front of me, my hand traveling between her legs while she’s unconscious to feel her bare pussy.
I shake my head—I don’t need to do that anymore.
Shoving my phone into my pocket, I make my way to the courthouse. She hasn’t finished yet, but I always used to wait to get a glimpse of her face, even though she didn’t know I was there. We’d walk to work together, home together, and then I’d sneak into her house at night and…
I sigh to myself. I enjoyed doing all those things. They gave me a thrill, mixing with control and fucking power. I kind of miss hiding and hunting and watching her when she didn’t know I was there. But having her by my side is way better. The lost part of me isn’t lost anymore when I’m with my little sister.
I pull out a smoke then settle my helmet between my legs while balancing my bike. I light it up and take a draw. The sun beats down on me while I wait across the street.
Ten minutes pass, and the sun sets behind the buildings.
Thirty minutes.
An hour. She should be out by now.
