Fool Me Once, page 8
Neither of them worked hard, and it’s evident in the way they live. We know her dad has bailed them out more than once and, as much as it hurts to say, Lexi worked more than my kid did. I wasn’t sure how much longer Lexi would put up with that either, but they both had the same mentality on life, so it wasn’t like they could push each other to do better. I wanted more for him, and it hurt to sit back and watch him ruin his life.
It would make it so much harder when he decided to grow up and be the man he needs to be. Starting out was hard enough. Doing it while taking three steps backward would make it impossible to do. Randy and I tried so hard to give him all the tools he needed, and we even tried with her.
The part that hurt the most was I still wanted a relationship with her. I did love her and having her in our lives should have been amazing. I had high hopes for her, and the stories she told, they broke my heart. I wanted to fix her and help her, but there wasn’t fixing someone like her.
She would take and take until the person had nothing left to give and then she would make them the bad guys. I heard her do it about her own parents. If you listen to her talk about them, CPS should’ve been involved. The truth of the matter was, she was great at storytelling. If it wasn’t written the way she wanted it, she would twist it and turn it around until even the person involved wasn’t sure what was true any longer.
I wondered all the time what it was she said to her dad about us to get him to buy her a trailer and move her out of our house so fast. If I had to guess, she painted us as the villains and her as the victim when the truth was, we only wanted what was best for her. Not being able to live on her own at her age wasn’t normal, and we tried so hard to help her grow up a little. She wasn’t ready to, and her parents let her get away with still acting like a child.
She could do that in her own place far away from my house. I was fine with that, but she took something from me I would never get back. She took the relationship I had with my son and ripped it into something that could never be sewn back together. That was what made her so horrible to me. She was a thief, and she wasn’t even sorry about it.
She’d fooled us. She’d fooled us hard, but I can promise one thing. She will never fool us again. We had her number, and we’d learned her games. The only thing we could do from there was hope our kid caught on and learned something before it was too late for him too.
I’ve only been to their place once to visit. Seeing my kid live in a little camper meant to spend weekends in was painful. You always want more for your kids than what you had, to give them a better life and a fighting chance in the messed up world we live in. As a parent, you can’t do life for them, and sometimes you have to take a step back and let them make their mistakes no matter how painful it was.
I knew we aren’t the only ones that had a Lexi to deal with, but when you are in the middle of it and really think the person your kid ends up with is good only to find out you hadn’t known them at all, it makes you question everything. The fact my son is so into her, it makes me question if I knew him at all either. I’m not even sure if she changed, if I could love her the way I had in the beginning. She left a mark on us with her lies and manipulation that runs deep in us. The little quiet girl who told me all the horror stories about her childhood was nothing but a spoiled little girl who was no longer getting her way. Her temper tantrum was enough to destroy my family and for that, I would never forgive her.
Olivia Marie, a USA Today Bestselling Author, chases the monsters within us all. Marie shows her strength by making powerful characters to walk you through the most twisted tales. A Midwest native, she uses her writing as therapy to tackle tough subjects and chase her inner demons. Not always having the escape she craves, she hopes to give that to each person who travels down the dark, unknown roads with her.
Marie thrives in taking bits of reality and weaving them into her stories. Letting the reader choose their own reality, she drips the real words into fiction in everything from hopelessly romantic to making your skin crawl and checking over your shoulder stories.
With messages of overcoming from her memoir Unbreakable to her harder subjects of family life Broken Roads, Mya's Saving Grace, Hayden, Altered Love and Chocolate Covered Cherry Kisses.
She also lurks on the darker side with books including Gypsy, Gypsy's Girl, Misfit Traveler, Lunar Prowl, The Village Series, The Retreat, Hazel Nut, Club Me, The Red Velvet Room, Harem, Virus, Quarantine and Mastery of Darkness.
Marie also loves the sweeter side with her books Hidden Jewel, Breaking Bismark, The Cookie Dough Job and Reunions. One thing they all have in common is showing the power we have to overcome whatever life throws at us.
Follow her at:
Website oliviamarieauthor.com
Facebook http://www.facebook.com/oliviamarieauthor/
Reader Group http://www.facebook.com/groups/oliviasrealists
Other books by Olivia Marie include:
Unbreakable
Hidden Jewel
Gypsy
Mya’s Saving Grace
Broken Roads
Breaking Bismark
Gypsy’s Girl
Hayden
Misfit Traveler
Chocolate Covered Cherry Kisses
Lunar Prowl
Altered Love
Reunions
Wisconsin Wishes
The Harvest of Souls
Dead Rising
Donovan’s Sweet Spot
Bad Seedling
Saving Daddy’s Privates
German Rhythm
Truck It
Fallen Sno
Anna’s Heart
The Forgotten Asylum
Blood Bound
Labradors of Love
Samoyed Surprise
Photo Chopped
Toxic
Outcast
Santa Baby
Painted Carnations
His Village with Erin Lee
Seeds with Erin Lee
Resurrection with Erin Lee
The Retreat with Erin Lee
Mastery of Darkness with Erin Lee
Hazel Nut with Erin Lee
Club Me with Erin Lee
Harem with Erin Lee
The Red Velvet Room with Erin Lee
Martini Mayhem with Erin Lee
The Grape Escape with Erin Lee
Hell House with Erin Lee
The Cookie Dough Job with Tressa Rabbit
Virus with Rena Marin
Quarantine with Rena Marin
Inside Anthology
TTYS? Anthology
Creeps Anthology
Catfish Anthology
Beyond Oz Anthology
Beyond Atlantis Anthology
Beyond Narnia Anthology
Infamy Anthology
Beyond Wonderland Anthology
Art Inspires Words Anthology Book 4
Motel 666 Anthology
Unconditional-ASPCA Anthology
Beyond Neverland Anthology
The Curse Anthology
Beyond the Woods Anthology
Beyond the Rose Anthology
Classic Twist Anthology
Murder Maker Anthology
Match Makers Anthology
Beyond the Beanstalk Anthology
Accidental Attractions Boxset
Misfit Nights Anthology
Bunny Tails Anthology
Reindeer Tails Anthology
Our Christmas Nook Anthology
Want more from this author? Check out this excerpt from Mya’s Saving Grace.
PROLOGUE
Watching everyone around me pay for decisions a bunch of kids, who believed they were infinite, did was almost as hard as what happened that night. If I could go back and rewrite it all, I would. Since I can’t, this is the punishment I have to live with for the rest of my life. That night, when my small world crumbled, was what will forever define me.
It has been said that our destinies are written long before we are born. I am not sure if I believe it or not, but what I do know is sometimes it sucks. Sometimes we do things and it changes how we see ourselves. Once in a while, all the plans we thought we had were ripped from our grip and all we can do is watch as they fade away.
Trying to pick yourself up after that is suffocating. Closing your eyes brings the replay back over and over until you want to claw your way out of yourself. You wake up in a sweat soaked panic and pray it was a dream only to realize it wasn’t; this is your new reality.
You shuffle through the day going through the motions but not really living. You hear the people around you talking, but they are lost in the fog that clouds your very existence. You pray for something, anything to change how you feel.
Sometimes they are answered.
CHAPTER ONE
“Mya, honey, you have to get out of bed,” my mother pleaded with me.
Moaning, I pulled the covers up higher to drown her out. If I stayed like this long enough, she would eventually leave me be.
“Please,” she begged and sat down. I felt her hand on my back and twisted away. “You have to start living again, honey. That is what they would have wanted.”
Fresh tears sprang up and I turned my head into my pillow to wipe them away. I needed her to leave my room and get away from me. She was in one of her saving moods though, and it would take me climbing out of my cocoon for her to back off. Facing her, my family, the world, was not something I wanted to do today. If I hand my choice, I would stay locked up in here until I formed my own coffin to bury myself in.
“Come on,” she said again and began to pull down the covers. “I made your favorite, blueberry pancakes. Come down and have some with us before they get too cold.”
Squinting from the light that streamed in from the open curtains, I turned to face her. I knew she was trying to help, to fix things, but this wasn’t something minor she could repair with blueberry pancakes. Nothing could fix it or make it better.
The smile plastered across her face was canceled out by the bags under her sunken eyes. The wrinkles in her once flawless face were deep. Her hair was speckled in white now and I could see her bones that were protruding in places that fat once hid away. A new sense of guilt dug its gnarly fingers into me as I realized how hard this had been on her.
I sat up in a desperate attempt to get her to leave me. Swinging my legs over the edge of my bed, I slid my feet into my slippers before meeting her eyes.
“That’s my girl. You come down in a minute and I will make your plate,” she said. I watched as she scampered out of my room and heard her race down the stairs. I know she feared I would change my mind if she didn’t hurry and make the plate of food I would sit there and pick at.
Sighing, I wipe the silent tears for her from my face and slowly made my way to my bathroom. The person staring back at me was a stranger, a shell of who I used to be. Guilt and pain ate away at me and with each day that passed, it swallowed a little more of me leaving a void of nothingness in its wake. I splashed water on my face and ran my fingers through my hair before heading to the kitchen.
Rounding the corner, my shoulders slumped forward. My dad sat in his normal spot with the paper folded in one hand and his favorite Today Is The Day coffee mug in the other. It was Saturday and he sat in his blue jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. His hair had been combed and I could smell his aftershave blend in with the smell of pancakes and bacon. These used to be the smells I loved waking up too, now they sent wave after wave of anxiety through me. These were the same smells and the same scene I saw the morning of the day that broke me.
I knew they didn’t fully understand, and I couldn’t blame them for it. Their daughter was still here physically. I know that night changed them too, but it wasn’t like it was for the other parents.
I took my spot at the table and looked from my mom to my dad. He was so calm, and she did anything she could to keep busy.
“Hey beautiful,” my dad said. He set the paper down by his plate and reached for my hand. “How are you today?”
Shrugging my shoulders, I fought the urge to move my hand out from under his. As if he could feel the tension, he gave it one more pat before placing it in his lap.
“Here you go,” my mom said in a sing song voice as she made her way to the table with a stack of pancakes. “I put extra blueberries in them for you.”
I caught the glance she threw at my father and the way his eyes darted from her to me. She placed three pancakes and two strips of bacon on my plate before moving to my father’s plate. She heaped a pile of cakes and bacon on his before putting one of each on her own. My dad dug right in after drowning the food in syrup. My mom shuffled hers around the plate, never making an attempt to place any of it on her fork. I reached for the syrup and put a little on my food before she started to talk.
“Mya, I found a wonderful lady who specializes in grief and trauma. I set up an appointment for you on Tuesday and I would really like you to give it a try.”
I looked from her to my dad hoping this was a joke. I didn’t need help. I needed everyone to leave me alone. I didn’t want to go see a shrink. What could she do? It wasn’t like she could make that day never happen or bring my friends back to me, so what was the point of it?
“Just give it a chance,” my dad chimed in. “We have done all we can for you, and nothing is working.”
“We are worried about you. You never leave your room, you don’t eat, and you haven’t said a word to anyone in months,” my mom said. I saw the fresh gleam in her eyes as the tears threatened to overflow their edges. “I feel like we lost you that night too.”
My dad stood up and made his way over to her. Placing his hands on her shoulders, she reached up and put her hand on his. I knew this was hard on them too, but they needed to let me be.
“We need you to try this for us, Mya. It is the only way we know how to help you. Neither of us want to lose you and we feel like we are,” he said.
This wasn’t something they woke up and decided. By what they were saying, this had been a conversation they had more than once.
“It’s time for you to move on and live a little. I am not saying to forget them, but you are still here. You are doing nothing for their memory by acting like you died with them,” my dad said.
I felt sick. I felt alone. Neither of them understood and they were all I had left. Shrinking into my over-sized hoodie, I put my thumbs through the holes I had worn through the sleeves and wrapped my arms tight around my midsection. My stomach empty, I felt the bile rising in my throat. Panic and anger filled me, and I began to shake so hard the uneven legs of the chair caused it to tap on the floor.
“I know you are scared, and I know how private of a person you are. If there was another way to fix this, we would. We just want a little of the old you back,” my mom said.
What was I going to do? They were ganging up on me and they would not take no for an answer. They thought there would be a way to fix me. There wasn’t. Nothing would ever be the same and no amount of therapy or time would change it. The sooner they got that, the better off we would all be. Why couldn’t they move on with their lives and leave me to what was left of mine? This is the new normal for me. This is and will be who I am now. I was the disappointment for them, I knew that. This was my punishment for the choices I made. The only redemption I had for the ultimate price the others paid.
I shrugged my shoulders at them realizing I was not getting out of this. I had to give them some kind of hope, even if it was false. They deserved that I guess.
My mom smiled, my dad gave his “that a girl,” and I was regretting getting out of bed.
Copyright © 2022 by Crazy Ink
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes.
Olivia Marie, Fool Me Once
