Truth Matters Book Novels & Stories

"Becau--" "Because what? Hailee interrupted. "Hailee, she answered the question, let's just move on. "Whatever," Hailee rolled her eyes and folded her arms. I ignored Hailee's attitude and moved on with the game. I didn't know what her problem was, she was acting like a bitch but then again when wasn't she? "Hailee, Truth, or Dare?" I asked. "Truth," she answered. "What were you and Derek talking about earlier?" I questioned.

He smiled, leaving the bed. “I want you to find out for yourself. You said you could go to any level in getting to know about me, then do it. Find out who I really am, if you do and it pleases you to learn the truth, feel free to come to me, ask me questions and I won’t hesitate in giving you an answer. Get dressed, I have already booked a reservation spot for us at a restaurant. ” He said.I stared at this guy, not knowing what to say or think. Firstly, he is sounding as though I am right about my doubts and he is giving me a go ahead to investigate him.

" I understood what he meant. It was him! He'd killed Mom! My vision was clouded with red as I snarled like a feral animal, "You're a lunatic!" When he heard my voice and realized I could speak, he froze. Then, he cocked his head back and let out a maniacal laugh. "So, it looks like you know the truth." As if this were his last day on earth, he spilled the truth. "Yes, I was madly in love with her! You are her only flesh and blood, and you look so much like her. I poisoned you so you'd become mute and stay in this town for good!

My consciousness faded as I drifted through a series of shallow dreams, with countless memories swirling in my mind. When I finally opened my eyes again, it was the next morning. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, gently spilling onto the bed. I blinked and looked up at the unfamiliar ceiling. A sense of disorientation washed over me. "If death is like this, it doesn't seem that hard to accept," I murmured with a bitter smile. When Tyree arrived, he brought both good and bad news. "The abortion surgery went smoothly, but..."

Gordon said, "Sophie is a gift, but Emma is my first daughter." Emma giggled on his shoulder, her eyes full of trust. One morning, I saw the news about George. After losing everything to fraud, George spiraled into ruin, living homeless for five years. He didn't survive the last cold winter, found frozen in a bridge underpass. His body was curled up, stiff, but a faint smile lingered on his face. The tears were frozen in his eyes. In his arms was a faded photo. It was our family of three at Emma's one-month celebration.

Too many defensive ornaments around the truth. I pushed a single sheet across the table to him, a routing log, only someone from the inside could easily explain. “Explain this entry then buddy.” His face blanched. Got him. “It wasn't… I d-didn’t m-mean…” He glanced to the others as if looking for salvation but there was none. I saw the fumble, sweat at the lips, a stutter that betrayed him. Because Mike never stutters. He babbles about pressure to pay a debt, threats about a contact who'd promise him to fix everything, something along those lines. The more he spoke the less coherent it became.

We've done this a few too many times and I know where this is heading so I say. "Truth." "When are you planning to tell me that Brandon attacked you?" ****

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.

“You think that was about control.” “I think it was about perception,” I replied. “And you didn’t think past the moment.” His jaw tightened. “Explain.” I crossed my arms too, mirroring him without meaning to. “Yes,” I said, voice steady even though my pulse wasn’t. “Not because anyone was standing there with popcorn. Because rumors spread.” His eyes narrowed. “You think it’ll become a story.” “It already has,” I said. “By tomorrow it won’t be ‘a woman tried it.’ It’ll be ‘Damien Lockewood had to step in because Tanya couldn’t handle it.’”

He turned his gaze to me then, his eyes bright with unshed tears, and I saw the same kindness I had seen in photos of my parents. “Your mother once told me that the strongest signal is not the one that carries the most data. It is the one that carries the most truth. And truth is never just one thing. It is always two sides fitting together, even when they are not exactly the same, even when they do not fit neatly into the boxes we try to build for them.”