The Cost of Their Lies

The Cost of Their Lies

Gavin

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I woke up in my own bed, my familiar floral comforter, my slightly messy room. The sun was too bright, and a wave of nausea hit me. Then, Jessica's sickeningly sweet voice drifted from the kitchen, "Emily? You up?" My digital clock flashed 7:32 AM, April 12th – the day before my world ended. Just then, Jessica appeared, her smile too wide, wanting to borrow my Mustang for the Desert Bloom festival. The image of my beautiful car, mangled, a body on the asphalt, flashed before my eyes. Last time, I'd been blind to her manipulative ways, handing over the keys to my dream car. She drove it drunk, killed an innocent man, then, with my boyfriend Mike's help, used my own driver's license to frame me. My denials were useless against their calculated lies and her fake tears. I was abandoned, accused, then dragged from my apartment by the victim's son and his crew. They left me broken on the side of the highway, my body never recovered. The phantom pain echoed through my limbs, the memory of her betrayal and my agonizing death so vivid, so raw. How was I back? Why was I here, staring at these two people who orchestrated my destruction, their faces masks of innocence? A choking rage, hot and living, simmered within me. But this time, my eyes were wide open, and my voice was steady as I said the single, defiant word that would change everything: "No." This time, they wouldn't get away with it.

Introduction

I woke up in my own bed, my familiar floral comforter, my slightly messy room.

The sun was too bright, and a wave of nausea hit me.

Then, Jessica's sickeningly sweet voice drifted from the kitchen, "Emily? You up?"

My digital clock flashed 7:32 AM, April 12th – the day before my world ended.

Just then, Jessica appeared, her smile too wide, wanting to borrow my Mustang for the Desert Bloom festival.

The image of my beautiful car, mangled, a body on the asphalt, flashed before my eyes.

Last time, I'd been blind to her manipulative ways, handing over the keys to my dream car.

She drove it drunk, killed an innocent man, then, with my boyfriend Mike's help, used my own driver's license to frame me.

My denials were useless against their calculated lies and her fake tears.

I was abandoned, accused, then dragged from my apartment by the victim's son and his crew.

They left me broken on the side of the highway, my body never recovered.

The phantom pain echoed through my limbs, the memory of her betrayal and my agonizing death so vivid, so raw.

How was I back?

Why was I here, staring at these two people who orchestrated my destruction, their faces masks of innocence?

A choking rage, hot and living, simmered within me.

But this time, my eyes were wide open, and my voice was steady as I said the single, defiant word that would change everything: "No."

This time, they wouldn't get away with it.

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My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

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