Secrets

By Megan Lacny

My name? It's Sam, but that's not what matters. Look around. You can never know the full truth. Everyone has a secret to keep hidden. A burden, some less dangerous than others. A moral compass swings as choices have to be made. Willing to do almost anything to keep it. Become selfish and endanger another or become lost within your own thoughts. Dealing with something that no one is allowed to know. Fall deeper into one's mind as the secrets begin to unravel. How long until all will become revealed?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781644247426

Book preview

Chapter 1

A hooded figure leans against a damp alley wall. She adjusts her hood to cover her eyes. On the inside lining of the hood is much thinner than the rest of the fabric, giving her a slightly distorted image of everything around. Rarely anyone notices her, just as she prefers. The girl closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath.

Hearing the rustling sound of newspapers and people walking, she casually makes her way out of the alley. Past the newsstand, then enters the alley next over. The girl pulls a newspaper out from under her baggy sweatshirt. They won’t miss it. Flipping through the pages, her pale rose lips part.

Most of the articles involve useless information that will only make people paranoid and cause prejudices. Others are about some of the technology lost from the accident slowly being redeveloped. It has been decades since everything went to hell. Many have lost hope in everything returning. How sad, so dependent on the internet to now be left with simpler versions. Returning to the paper, she finds the other articles mostly filled with gossip, lies, or just plain uneducated inferences.

Many voices go unheard. They listen to the loudest and get one side of the story. The voices from the accident have been long forgotten. There is hardly any space for the smaller articles about those who are going missing, running away, or the small businesses that are robbed or being put out of business by the larger ones.

Hearing the owner of the newsstand yelling at a customer, she slips deeper into the shadows. Why do they foolishly let anger get the better of them? It gets you nowhere. Using a pen from her pocket, she circles a few of the jobs, looking at the large clock tower in the middle of the market. The alley is like a minihighway, able to get anywhere in half the time.

Unfortunately, it is also like a maze to someone unfamiliar with it can easily make a wrong turn. The alley is not always the safest either, whether because of the people or the broken glass on the ground; it is the quickest way for her. Effortlessly navigating herself through without any broken shards breaking through her shoes, she finds her way to a decent apartment complex.

To the back of the building, she pulls out a silver key to unlock a door. A dog walks by the fence keeping an eye on her; a shiver runs down her spine as it lets out a deep growl. She turns to see it observing her. A stray? Waiting, both of them just stare for what seems like forever until it finally decides to leave. Strange, it seems to be alone. Not many strays around here. Usually, the animals stick to the woods. She enters the building.

The first room is the kitchen. She checks the living room—it’s a decent size with a couch and carpeting and small bookshelf with a radio on it. She walks into the kitchen again and sets down the newspaper. Such an ugly kitchen. The wallpaper needs to be renewed. Looking through the cabinets, she finds them mostly empty. The girl pulls out two bowls from a cabinet and fills it with leftover soup.

It would be nice to have something better for once, but then again, it’s not like I’m eating any of this. She looks at the calendar then continues with setting up breakfast. Hopefully, once I get my next pay or another job—even then, I probably won’t. Where is that girl? She should have been up by now. Tiffany needs to be up before he does.

Glancing at the empty cabinets, He’s going to be angry if I don’t restock soon. Walking to another room, she quietly knocks on the door. Tiffany, food is ready. Her voice is scratchy and hardly audible. She waits back in the kitchen. It doesn’t take long for a little girl to come bounding out of the living room, her black curls bouncing along. She wears a long red plaid skirt and white blouse—her school uniform.

Sitting, Tiffany stares at her. You’re still wearing that hood? Not like it’s a surprise. Do you work tonight?

She nods, and Tiffany eats her breakfast in silence. It usually goes this way in the morning. She adjusts her hood to cover more.

Of course, you have to do that, Tiffany says bitterly under her breath. She finishes her soup then slams the spoon on the table. Why do you always have to do that! It’s been so long. Can’t you stop hiding and just let people see? Sam, are you even listening?

Sam waits for her to be finished. Without raising a voice, she says, Don’t raise your voice. It draws attention. Handing a piece of bread to Tiffany, she continues, I explained to you before that this is for the best. I’d rather not let them get hurt.

We’re at home! No one will notice! Tiffany snatches the slice of bread from her sister’s hand and gobbles it down. They both fall silent as an older man walks into the kitchen. If only you knew. He sits in front of the other bowl.

Softly, she says, Tiffany, when you’re finished, we can leave.

Sam takes a deep breath to calm her nerves. Allowing the irritation to be tucked away for another time, Sam tries to leave the conversation as it is.

Tiffany scoffs. Typical. Always changing the subject. You act like I’m a little kid who can’t understand anything. I’m thirteen, not a kid, sis.

Everything goes quiet again. Not in front of him. You need to stop.

Tiffany, go get your stuff all right. You don’t want to be late, the man says kindly to her.

Okay, Uncle. She hops off to gather her school supplies.

He towers over Sam. I hate you, you know that, right? Don’t make my angel upset. Do you need time in the dark room again? Or should I just call him and see how your little friends doing?

No good could come from that. Being locked up will only slow me down. Suck up your pride and apologize. She waits in the back for Tiffany. About five minutes pass before she comes out.

Tiffany grabs Sam’s hand; the alleys always make her nervous.

After school can we go shopping? No reply. "Never mind. We don’t have to. It’s not like you’d have time for me anyways."

Sam keeps opening and closing her free hand. Changing the subject, she says, I wish it would get hot around here for once. She pauses looking up at her sister, trying to sneak a peek at her face. You know in the summer it should be hot like eighties or nineties. You would take off your hood then.

Sam merely shakes her head. It never gets that hot around here. We’re lucky if it gets past seventy.

Tiffany keeps an eye on the ground. She steps over piles of broken glass. Wouldn’t it be nice if someone picked up the alleys? That way, our shoes wouldn’t get cut up. You know the alley is a private place. You should take off your hood and— Careful. If you harm her in any way, it will not end well for you or her. Sam slams her fist against the wall then back to her side. Sam, you really should. I haven’t seen you, like actually seen you.

Would it be easier if she knew about it? Probably not. She would shut down, and he would punish me for it. She wouldn’t believe me anyways. Sam places a hand on Tiffany’s head. Reasons prevent you from seeing.

Within ten minutes, the two of them leave the alley and walk down a street to a nice school building. Tiffany walks with her sister to the principal’s office.

Go, get to class.

Tiffany nods, hugging Sam then runs off.

Sam walks into the office where an elderly lady sits at the table organizing papers. When seeing her, she smiles, her teeth stained. With her smoke-tainted voice, the woman just makes small talk. A pointless habit people have. After a few minutes, Sam interrupts, Why did you need to see me?

The old woman’s smile disappears. Dearie, about Tiffany’s attention. It’s beginning to become a nuisance. Her grades are slipping, and she is distracting others with her nonstop talking. Then there’s the whole payment problem. You still need to finish the payment for her schooling. I understand you’re raised by a single parent and yourself. It can be hard. She pauses clearing her throat. We will need an additional amount if you want her to join the school’s study trip as well. It’s about a month long, she says with a not-so-caring tone.

Don’t say that you know. Also, call me Sam, not dearie. Breathe. Don’t let your irritation get the better of you. She’s not worth it. Friday, one week. Sam nods. Mrs. Riser, I understand. The payment will be in before she would leave, she lies. Glancing at the principal’s hands, it’s always clasped together. She keeps glancing at the clock in an obvious way. Why are you nervous? It’s not the first time you’ve talked to me. Mrs. Riser coughs, glancing at the clock again. Don’t worry, I’ll leave. Without a word, she stands.

Mrs. Riser then adds, Will you be showing us your face then too? She sounds somewhat annoyed. It is hard to trust a faceless person, you know.

Sam holds her breath until she is outside the building. A face is nothing without a voice. A voice is worthless without words, and words are empty without action. So a faceless person should be the least of your problems. On the way to work, she takes the alleys. Crossing the street, she spots a large truck up front of the bookstore where men unload several boxes. The shipment’s early.

Entering the small brick store, the owner smiles at her. Clearly fake.

Hey, kid, good thing you’re here. We just got a shipment of new books in. Go get the boxes, she orders quickly, gesturing to the boxes that men are rolling into the building.

One of the two men walk up to the owner, and she signs some papers. The owner moves her short hair out of her eyes. Is that all? she asks him sweetly. Batting her eyes, she talks to the man some more before signing the rest of the delivery forms.

Sam pauses, looking at the many boxes, then at her manager. And as always, you’re no help, Silvia. At least you’re consistent. With a sigh, she picks up a heavy box and heaves them one by one to the counter in back of the store, where she usually works. After setting the last box down, her arms begin to ache. You’re stronger than this. Get back to work. Focus. Behind the counter, Sam logs into the very old computer with her ID, and then goes to the book list.

Pulling a box cutter out, she opens each one carefully. Careful not to damage any of the precious escapes inside. If only one could permanently take me away. In the first box, she pulls out a pile of books and sets it on the counter. At the computer, she lists the name then sorts them into different categories then by authors. Once the book is put into its category, she places a price tag on it then sets it in the section that the book belongs in. I wish we had computers like some of these books had. Able to record videos. These old things can only make lists. And there are a few blogs, but that’s really it.

Seeing everything is in order, Silvia calls over to her. Kid, it’s time for your break. You’re useless if you won’t be able to focus.

I’m fine. There’s still stuff to do. Sam avoids her as much as she can. The two of them still don’t get along, even after working with each other for three years.

As time seems to move slower and slower, Sam begins to feel uneasy. The sun’s setting. I hope she didn’t leave school yet. Looks like it’s time to leave. I’ll need to hurry. Tiffany sits in one of her classes finishing her homework. She listened. Good.

The walk back is quiet until Tiffany asks, Sam? Do you hate me?

With only a sigh, Sam pats her on the head. She leaves Tiffany in their home to sit alone in the kitchen so she can focus on her homework.

The unanswered question puts doubt in her heart. She feels a dark cloud follow her through the house with a heavy weight on her shoulders. Trying to lighten the mood, Tiffany turns on the radio and occasionally stares out the window.

Sam tries to focus as the streetlights buzz then flicker on. You should have answered her. Quickly looking around, Sam doesn’t see anyone. Quickening her pace, she finds a tall man chopping wood and tossing the logs into a large wagon. Sam just jumps into the routine, taking the wagon to pile up on the other side and brings back the empty one. Now that I’m here, I need to focus. My jobs come before my worries. I don’t recognize that voice. Careful, Sam.

Back by the log piles, she stacks the wood slightly taller than she is. Pulling the empty wagon to the man, she finds the other wagon already filled. They work for five hours, then he tells her to finish stacking the last load before going home. Each seems to get heavier than the first. She keeps an eye on her surroundings.

The question pops into her mind again. Do you hate me? I don’t understand. Do my actions not show enough that I don’t hate her? I guess if she understood I keep things from her to keep her safe, her and another. No one would do that for someone they hate. The wind picks up, and leaves begin to fall. Dropping off the wagon to the end of the building, she checks the schedule.

Thunder rumbles through the sky. I need to hurry. If I get sick, she’s not alive anymore so that won’t end well. If I get sick, then she will be affected. Her sister sits awake at the kitchen table waiting for her.

Tiffany, leave your work. I’ll take a look later, but you should get to bed. Sam locks the door behind herself, feeling heavy from the rain.

I, she hesitates, then continues, I just wanted to hang out. Talk for a little bit. Pausing, Tiffany glances up at her sister who has no reaction. With dim eyes, Tiffany walks to her room. Of course not. You hate me anyways. Tiff, don’t be disappointed. We can hang out when we are in a better place. Maybe next year. Please next year at the latest, Lord.

Sam waits till Tiffany is fast asleep before changing into dry clothes. Sam pulls out a notebook hidden behind a cabinet. She spends an hour recording the day’s events then hides it once again. Tiffany’s algebra homework sits on the table. After she checks the paper, she circles the incorrect answers and writes on a sticky note what she needs to fix.

Exhausted, Sam crashes on the couch, too tired to make dinner. In a daze, Sam stares at the clock. Damn, my head hurts. It’s getting late. She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes. Just breathe. The ticking clock lulls her to sleep.

Chapter 2

Alone, Tiffany sits in her room scribbling her rants in a journal. She hates me. She doesn’t like me, doesn’t want to talk to me or anything to do with me. The last few sentences she writes down is about how nobody will love her. A tear splashes on the paper. I don’t get it. Am I that bad to be around? Throwing the journal in her side drawer, Tiffany grabs her pillow and cries herself to sleep.

*****

The next day, Sam wakes taking quick shallow breaths. It’s okay, breathe. Just a dream. That’s all in the past. You’ll be fine. See, you’re awake. It’s over. She whispers to herself breathe. Glancing at the clock, it reads four in the morning. Once her heart rate slows back to a normal pace, she focuses on her surroundings. The room is still dark. A cold stream of air leaks in from the window.

The rumbling of thunder can be heard. Is it still storming? Unable to sleep, she grabs a book hidden under the couch. I wish you were real, Zariah. Do you ever beat it? Lord, when will this end?

There is a small lamp near the couch. Clicking it on, she reads for about two hours until Uncle wakes up. She hides it under a pillow, but he already saw. He stares at her for a minute then asks roughly, Why are you up?

Couldn’t sleep.

He yanks the book away from her then reads the back then author’s name. Don’t fool yourself.

He takes the book, ripping pages out, and throws it in the garbage. It better be there when I get back. If not, I’ll tell him what needs to be done. He pauses, hearing Tiffany walk into the bathroom. His voice instantly changes to a kinder tone, Bye, angel. She sleepily waves.

Tiffany heads back to bed to wake an hour later. Sam heats up some breakfast, glancing back at the book. Tiffany scarfs down the food then grab her bag. Before leaving, Sam stashes some bread in her pocket. They leave, sure to lock the door behind them as they always do. On their way, there is the dog who follows them from behind. Sam notices it and recognizes the stray. Tiffany pulls on Sam’s arm to try to make her run.

Sam, she whines.

With a calm voice, she says, If we panic, he will have the same reaction. His posture is not threatening, no snarling, and no growling. So as long as we do not approach him and keep walking, we will be okay. Calm down, Tiffany. He won’t hurt you. Tiffany whimpers as the dog quickens his pace to walk just in front of them. When they stop, the dog waits for them to continue to move. What are you doing? A strange stray in need of a bath. You probably have white fur. I bet he’s beautiful when clean. Someone’s coming this way.

Without warning, Sam stops Tiffany from walking. She hears voices coming from the market, ones she recognizes. Two men walk by the alley. One is Uncle, and the other is a man slightly younger than him. Stay hidden. If he’s here, then where is she? She must be back where he’s been hiding. Sam peeks around the corner. Those footsteps are getting closer. Let’s not find out who.

After a minute, she grabs Tiffany’s arm and begins to walk faster than before. The dog watches them from the alley as the two rush across the street. Sam glances back and notices the dog is gone. Avoid being seen. Hood or not, I still have to be careful.

Sam? What is going on? Tiffany demands.

There is only silence. Tiffany pulls her arm away, stopping in the middle of the street.

Tell me! she says, stomping her foot, more so hurt than angry.

I’m running late for work. That’s all. It’s not a complete lie. Tiffany already doesn’t trust me as it is. It doesn’t matter whether I lie now or not. Sam then adds, Stay after school today and get help. Focus on your work, not the people around you.

Yeah, but what do you expect? You don’t actually help me, and when was the last time you actually hung out with me? Tiffany snaps. You never take time off of work to just hang out. You don’t want me to talk to Uncle, but he does live with us. He hasn’t done anything wrong. Idiot, of course, you’d say that.

Tiffany, you have to listen and keep moving. Now wipe away those tears, Sam says, calming her tone. Don’t snap. Stay calm and focus on what needs to be done.

You always say that but never listen to me. I’m not a child.

Not here and not now. Sam grabs her arm and yanks her into moving. It’s not like she is going to move on her own anyways.

Tiffany scoffs. You’re never home. You’re never there to just talk anymore. It’s been so many years now. I want to know what you look like, what you like, but you never show me your face. You don’t care about me. You never let me in about anything, and when you are home, you never talk. Her eyes fill with tears. At the front of the school, Sam wipes away the girl’s tears.

Not now. Not here. Dry those tears, and have a good day at school. Tiffany wipes away her tears, and then enters the school building. It can be difficult when Tiffany doesn’t listen. Sam blankly stares off for a minute. If only you knew the things I know. Maybe then you would understand why you must listen. Unfortunately, the truth would hurt you more than this.