The Last Lie

Be true to yourself. Faking it will only end up hurting you and everyone you're faking it for

The Last Lie

 

 

 

What have I done?

 

I’m sitting in this empty room - white walls, stucco ceiling, wood floors - full of boxes still needing unpacked. The only furniture, besides the stool I am sitting on, is the massive, drawer-less dresser sitting in the middle of the floor, her dresser. It looks skeletal sitting there stripped to its bare frame, like a shell of what it should be; perhaps that emptiness is what drew me to it. Perhaps, that’s why I’d been sitting here, staring into the mirror mounted on its back all morning.  Empty, but still able to project the image it was given, as it was expected to; still able to keep appearances. I’ve always hated this dresser.

 

What have I done?

 

I sit on the stool, looking at him. Where did he come from? I mean... I understand where he is coming from now, but where did he come from in the first place? And how had he known to come?

 

I just stare at him.

It was just us, now.

 

He is supposed to be me. He is supposed to be nothing more than my own light, fed to the glass and silver and shown back to me.  But how can that be? Look at him. He’s young, he’s handsome; sure he looks tired, but he does not look weary, does not look fatigued, does not look as though life itself is becoming a burden too heavy for him to bear. Look at him; nice teeth, glowing skin, cute hair. He looks like he’s ready to take on the world - perhaps first he’d take on a toothbrush and a cup of coffee, but then the world.

He is supposed to be me? This man, in his universe of silver and glass, was born of my light? How is that even possible when I have no more light to give? My light is dying, has been  for years, it could not satiate the hunger of the mirror to produce such a pristine image. Yet, he is supposed to be me, or better yet, I am supposed to be him.

I’d like to blame him; his smiles, his joy, his energy. I’d like to say that those things are what had gotten me here, but he had only done what I’d asked him to do, what I’d done so long and couldn’t do anymore. I invited him in, instructed him, and watched idly as he fooled the people in my life as I once had.

All I wanted was to hide my pain from them. I wanted to spare them from having to know what I was going through, what I was feeling. I wanted to spare her especially. I still do. I’d dug myself into this happy hole. I could’ve avoided it early on with honesty, but instead started living this charade. So now what could I do? Tell them the truth after years of lies?

 

I’m sorry, but I don’t love you, I don’t know if I ever really did. I didn’t want to hurt you, I still don’t want to hurt you, but living this lie is eating me away inside. It’s killing me. I can’t do it anymore.

 

I couldn’t do that. Not now. It wouldn’t just hurt her, it would hurt them all. No, I put myself into this and now I just have to deal. But dealing was becoming all the more painful - the fake smiles, the fake cheer - it was all becoming too heavy, and I was cracking under the load.

Now, I had to let him do it.

He came in and began to give everyone the feigned smile I could no longer deliver. The lies, the look, the life; they all killed me inside, slowly sucked from my light, but everyone else was happy. I was sparing them all the pain of knowing the truth, or perhaps I was sparing myself from having to watch their pain. Either way, he played his role well.

 

“How excited are you, Hon? Our own place!” I remember hearing her say to him one day while sitting on his lap.

 

“It’s wonderful, Babe,” he lied. “I can’t wait to finally start our lives together.”

 

While I wept, he looked her in the eyes and smiled.

It was the most perfect smile I’d ever seen.

 

“OK, Hon! You love me?”

 

I was going to tell her the truth Right then, I was going to do it. I was going to apologize for all the years of lying and just come clean. I just hadn’t wanted to hurt you, but I can’t go through with this. I can’t give my whole life to you on this pretense of love that doesn’t exist and maybe never did!

That’s what I was going to say, but his resolve was stronger than mine. He did not stray from his assignment.

 

“Of course I do, Babe.”

 

He was good.  That’s why I had needed him, that’s why he’d come. The happy face, and the lies that were becoming like load of lead to me, he could easily handle. He knew the cost of the truth; he knew that it would ease no pain, only transfer it, and if either she or I had to bear it, then it was I that deserved it. That it was why I now sat in this empty room, gazing at him through this barrier of glass, asking myself one question.

 

What have I done?

 

“You OK, Hon?”

 

I turned to the doorway where she stood, a concerned look on her face. I turned back to him for help, but I had temporarily trapped him in his prison of silver and glass. He could not help me now.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I muttered to the floor.

 

“Why are you just sitting there in your underwear, staring at the mirror like a weirdo?”

 

“Uh, I don’t know, just tired I guess,” I said through a forced half-grin. “Just zoning out, or something.”

 

“Um, OK,” she said through a small giggle. “Well I’ll be downstairs unpacking, come down when you get a little more awake. Love you.”

 

I simply nodded and grinned. I didn’t have it in me to tell another lie; I had told my last.

 

I looked back toward him with envy. It was so easy for him to wear this guise of happiness, he didn’t have to feel the pain that came with it.

Why can’t I be stronger? I say I lie to spare them, to spare her, but have I spared anyone? Or have I just trapped us all in this downward  spiral of an empty loveless life, full of resentment and self-loathing. Have I really spared anyone?

 

It doesn’t matter, I though as I used the razor to trace the big blue vein in my arm from wrist to shoulder.

 

Now we are all freed.

 

And as my head lie down on the dresser, watching the beautiful, crimson falls, flow away from my body, he reached down and began to softly stroking my face. Lovingly.

 

I smiled.

And for the first time that I can remember…

 

It was weightless

Author's Note

Sorry this got a little longer than expected. If you notice any out of place quotation marks from the stupid glitch, let me know :)

This was partially inspired by a message I sent to London and JoshuaDeathdealer encouraging them to work together on a poem. I said to them "It'd be so dark and sad I'd probably slit my wrists right at the desk, but it'd be so good I'd die smiling" which put an image in my head I had to explore.

PS
if anyone can find a better picture LET ME KNOW haha

Enjoy! ^_^

Reviews

[lostboy]

we all live in a much greater light than our own ..a light that makes ours a shadow when we look in a mirror we see a reflection when we look in our heart what do we see ? i say the truth from the start is still the best ..if for no other reason than it causes less pain.

[patricia]

I like the line about fooling people.
I like the take a cup of coffee first.
Oh...the strain of having to act a part...too hard!
Its great how you split off the personality to tell the story.
Tragic ending Please God no one takes that road
As for living the lie...With me it comes out insidiously anyway even if I try to hide it. Or worst..I blurt it out in moments of angry opportunity. Thankyou great read, well written, held my attention. Made me reflect on getting more honest.

[~Artemis~]

I'll admit I was little confused, but that forced me to pay closer attention, which was a good thing. I like the use of the dresser, it was an interesting touch. Amazing writing too, i was sucked write in.

[∂αʌ<..]

The Last Promise is still my favourite...but this one also is a superb story...
i really like the way you change characters but still, you could use different fonts for each characters-like in italics, for example.
other than that, its a beautiful story...especially those lines:
--"I smiled.
And for the first time that I can remember…
It was weightless"--

[Kenneth The Poet]

I like the ending, I could see it coming somewhat. The cutting of the wrists is not my preferred method but you crafted this piece so well, that I cannot anything negative about it. This is a great short story, pleasantly dark and awesome all around.

[Light and ashes]

This is a compelling story! Fantastic!

[Daytonight]

Wow! You really blew me away on this. So very sad. Great form. Keep on penning.

[TOF_Matt]

Call me cynical, but it's very difficult to pull off a dark broody piece without sounding like a spoiled whiney brat who just didn't get what they wanted. For the most part you've managed to avoid this, so props to you for that.

I love the central idea that the person we project isn't always the person we are, and the way you've used the mirror to represent that is a good start. I feel like you can actually take this even further by joining the literal and metaphorical together. I feel like, when the conversation starts and you shift to the "he" pronoun, maybe you should have the narrator swap places with the man in the mirror. The start of the "he" pronoun starts so abruptly that, at first, I thought there was a third character in the scene. You have a good segue line earlier in "Yet, he is supposed to be me, or better yet, I am supposed to be him." I think you should move this and rewrite the "he" sections a bit so you can get a feel of a swap. It would tie your metaphor and reality together very nicely, IMO.

You're also a bit heavy handed in your general metaphor usage. For example, your opening paragraph "It looks skeletal sitting there stripped to its bare frame ...still able to keep appearances." This entire paragraph was just a little too pandering for my taste - like I'd figured it out after one sentence and the rest of it was the author saying "are you sure you got it? Here let me put it right into your mouth for you." I think it's okay to give the reader some credit, especially given the tone of the few sentences that come before it. They'll make the connection.

All in all a good original work.

[traveling mind]

HOLY CHRISTMAS! your story caught my interest, then pulled me through, and there was the oh my god ending.. it was powerful, incedible, and the image projectory was incredible. you said this" while i wept, he looked her in the eye and smiled, it was the most perfect smile I'd ever seen", it states so much, it is as though the person in the mirro is leading one life while you lie in the backgroung knowing how the true you feels, waitng for the ideal time to be honest, but there is no perfect time or ideal setting, you become the great prentednder, till you feel like you are going to eplode. the ending is something else as well, so intense. instead of dealing with the truth, you set yourself free with a razor, and for the first time you feel happy. but it still causes unexplained pain. i love how you ecpressed it " as i used a razor to trace the big blue vein in my arm from wrist to shoulder, now we are freed, as you watch the crimson falling, falowing away from his body and for the first time in a long time he smiled." ARE YOU KIDDING ME.. this one really got to me, maybe part because i was the great pretender at one time a long time agao. i think at one point our lives we dont want to be but sometimes we become someone we are not for growing purposes.

[Calypso]

Get story, really. You took a moment in time and make it a piece of art.

[brenda]

lol i love it !!:)