Page 2 of Pretty Girls Never Lie (St. Mary’s)

There’s silence, except for my brother’s cry.

The gunshot woke him.

The gunshot that killed my father.

The gunshot that took away my only living parent.

What am I going to do?

“I have to go,” he whispers in my ear.

I want to tell him to stay because I’m afraid, and the second he leaves, where does that leave me?

His hands drop from my shaking body. “He’s looking for me, and if he finds out you exist and that I hid you, we’re both as good as dead.”

My whisper cracks through the stuffy closet. “What do I do?” I hardly recognize my voice.

“Become fucking invisible.”

What?

“If he knows you exist and that you just witnessed…” his voice trails off. “Just…stay the fuck away from this life, okay? Disappear. Lie if you have to.”

He shoves me aside, and I fall to my knees. My arms wrap around them like that’s going to protect me from the unbearable future I’m about to find myself in.

It smells like blood.

My soft voice breaks through the tension. “My dad always told me that pretty girls never lie.”

Brantley drops down to my level at the last second and takes my wet face in his hands. “If you want to live, you’ll lie, Isla. Get your shit together, and remember that you’re still alive. Don’t make me regret saving you.”

The closet door opens, and I peer up at him. His light-green eyes meet mine, and although his words were a bite to my skin, he gives me a look that I know I’ll keep under lock and key forever. I smash my lips together, and then he’s gone.

The closet door slides shut, and I sit with my knees trapped behind my arms and watch him through the tiny cracks.

“There you are.” An older man enters the room. “Where have you been? Your father told me that you need to clean up this mess.”

This mess? Does he mean my father’s body?I shut my eyes to keep from looking at what lies beneath their feet.

“I’ve been here the whole time.”

It’s true.

He has been.

“Well, get this shit cleaned up so we can go. That baby is driving me up a fucking wall.”

My lip quivers, but I refuse to let another tear fall.

My brother’s wails are at an all-time high.

I freeze when those familiar green eyes fling to the closet door. For the next several minutes, I press the heels of my palms into my eyes and try to acknowledge that my life is forever changed.

ONE

FOUR YEARS LATER

Isla

---