The Lie My Fiancé Created

Boot

t the hell

ide. He didn't even look at me, his entire focus on my sist

wn eyes burning, the world dissolving into

"I saw you! You knocked it out of her hand! You're

ain was sharp, but the injustice was sharper. He yanked open the trunk, a space

u've done," he seethed, his voice a low growl. "Maybe

ady slamming the lid shut, plunging me into darkness. I heard the

teous judge. He saw what he wanted to see, what confirmed his narrative:

red, silhouetted against the bright sky. He wasn't there to let me ou

can of pe

who the real victim

of hope inside me. The car lurched into motion, and I heard him cooing to Keni

was thrown against the hard-surfaced confines of the trunk. The can of pepper s

reaching down to feel a warm, sticky wetness spreading through my jeans. The nozzle of the c

e small space. My body was a canvas of bruises and cuts. By the time the car

s no shock, no remorse at the sight of my injuries. If anything, his ey

fingers digging into a fresh bruise. He doused me with a bottle of frigid water from the cooler

laugh escaped my lips. He wanted me to apologize for being attacked, for being

rotest. I found a first-aid kit in the bathroom and clumsily tried to clean a

atisfied smirk playing on her lips. She had a small, decorativ

cern. "I have an idea that will cheer you right up. There's a

was terrified of he

od idea, Kenisha," I said,

rds the back door. "Unless you have something to hide? Daryl told me he saw you talking to your ex, Br

It was a lie, a complete fabrication,

as she'd described it: a terrifying, swaying construction of wea

n that," I said,

t his arm around Kenisha, pulling her close. "Afraid