Don't Lie To Me
Don't Lie To Me
By Sebastian Martin
You leave the restaurant, stinking of the shitty fast food you’ve been serving, and enter the freezing December weather. You’re walking towards your car so you can head to the police station right after. A car lurches to a halt next to you, but you keep walking. A smack to the back of the head knocks you down and you see dark.
***
The cold plastic covering hitting you in the face wakes you up. You're on the floor of the back seat with your face against the door. The searing pain in your right arm makes you realize it's broken. You try to get up anyways but the car stops suddenly and drops you to the floor again. You look up at him.
It’s the person you’re most afraid of in the world right now. You expected this. You haven’t heard from him in months, but you know he’s been around. It’s been lurking in the back of your mind no matter how far you push it away. It’s just paranoia you think. But it's real now. You knew this because of the letter.
You found it on your car today. It had one line. That’s all it needed.
Don’t Lie To Me
You think about the first time you heard this. The Shack was mostly empty when he walked in. The barista waves hi to him when he takes his seat. They all you know here, you’ve been regulars for months. You tell him it's just not working out, you explain he’s a good guy and that he’ll be better off. He sees right through it.
“Who is it?”
“No one. It’s just not working out. There’s no one else,” you lie.
He changes tactics. He knows when he’s being lied to. He always did. The first time he knew. The second time he did. And now he knows again. You’re trying to do what’s best for him. Some people are too far gone to fix. He doesn’t see it. He’s going to fall too, you know it. You’re trying to stop him before it’s too late. But you’re too late. You recognize the look in his eyes. He’s gone.
“How many?”
“There’s none”
“Don’t lie to me! How many this time?”
The barista is walking over, but you beat her to it. You leave without another word. You haven’t been back since. You haven’t seen him in four months, but you think he’s seen you.
Now, your worst fears have come true. He grabs you and shoves you into his house. He knocks you over when you try to get up again and again. He repeats over and over again those four words. You try to make him understand but he doesn’t listen. Those four words are the last you hear when the gun goes off.
