The Truth Hurts Book Novels & Stories

Bubbles of air choked her throat, keeping the whispers back, letting out only a stutter at best. Monica took the King James Version Bible, raised it up with a hand and nervously gulped down, different panic and guilt thoughts raced through her head but she dismissed them - not totally. "I solemnly state I will tell the truth without hiding or adding anything and I should be punished for false testimonies if I lie." Her voice sounded mechanical, like the voice of a person reciting something written. I implore you to say the truth, just this once!

I asked emotionless, he smiled in my direction but I can't reply to the kind of smiling he's giving. "You'll need to take this cause I know you can still be treated-" "You're lying." I cut him off as I stood up and got the book that I was reading these past few days. I opened the book and went through some pages that I marked earlier. "Not all people using white lies can make other people feels great, something the truth is the most valuable words that we can hear even though it hurts." I loudly read one phrase from the book. "I know you understand that." I added as I looked back at him but he was still smiling with his comfortable look.

I knew the difference between right and wrong, between truth and survival, and I chose survival. And that’s the part that haunts me. Because no matter how many times I say sorry, no matter how many nights I cry until I can’t breathe, it won’t change what I started. It won’t undo the damage I caused to Antonio, to Rino, to myself. You can’t undo a lie once it’s spilled blood. I stared at the book in my hands, my thumb brushing over the embossed letters on the cover... “The Rape Recovery Handbook.”

"The way we went about all of it. The exposure, the testimony, the book." "Not for a single moment," he said immediately, without the pause that qualified hesitation. "Truth is never regretful. It is painful, sometimes. It is costly, sometimes. But it liberates in ways that nothing else can. You know that. You are sitting in the evidence of it right now."

PART THREE: THE SUN’S RISING CHAPTER 46 There are times the wanting the truth is similar to telling me that I crave ice cream for the day. And there are times when I don’t want to hear the truth though there’s an urge inside me to find it out. Similar to wanting ice cream while feeling ill. Truth hurts. Truth pains. Truth is unbelievable.

“When I started writing this book, it wasn’t to explain myself. It wasn’t to defend anything. It was just… to tell the truth as I experienced it.” I paused slightly, glancing down at my notes but not really needing them. “And I think somewhere along the way, I realized something important. That truth doesn’t need to be perfect to be valid.” I looked up again. “I made mistakes. I hurt people. I was also hurt. Those things can exist at the same time.” Richard’s eyes stayed on me, but he didn’t interrupt. I continued. “I spent a long time thinking I had to choose between being honest and being understood. I don’t think that’s true anymore.”

Watching the flames dance. “I am afraid the answers will hurt people.” A pause. Another. Then another. “Especially the people we love.” The honesty touched her deeply. Because it revealed something important. The investigation was no longer about revenge. No longer about blame. It was about truth. And truth carried consequences. Sometimes painful consequences. Ava reached for her phone. Then typed slowly. Truth hurts. Lies hurt longer. Adrian read the message. Several times. Then nodded. Because once again she found the heart of the matter.

My wrist was wrapped in thick bandages. I stared calmly at the bandaged wound. Wounds could heal, but the scars carved into my heart would never disappear. The nurse notified them that I was awake. Jonathan rushed in, followed by Henry and Linda. He embraced me tightly, his voice full of fear. "Claire, why didn't you just apologize? Do you know you almost died?" I calmly pushed him away. The scent of Linda’s rose perfume still clung to him, stinging my nose, and I frowned slightly.

And when she finally spoke, her steadiness was a bit discomforting. “Jane… sometimes the truth doesn’t break us. It only shows that we’ve been living broken all along, and it gives us the opportunity to shape ourselves into something whole.” I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe that uncovering the truth about my mother, about HAB, about Nathan, about Julia, about all of it, would give me wholeness instead of dragging me down to my knees. But the fear inside me whispered otherwise. Back to the Present I opened my eyes at my desk and drew in a deep breath.

Of the web of half truths and silence tightening around all of them. “Sometimes,” I said quietly, “the truth hurts less than the lie. Even if it takes longer to heal.” He nodded slowly, lost in thought. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted. I held his hands tighter. “You don’t have to know right now,” I said. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against our joined hands, and for the first time since he walked into my room, he allowed himself to break.