His Painted Lies
His Painted Lies
‘Don’t worry,’ he told her, ‘I’ll be half an hour tops.’
His lies were beginning to appear more and more frequently. The trust it their relationship was slowly running out. In the early days, his deep, blue eyes would meet hers and she would instantly believe his sorry stories. But now, now she’d search his expression for the first sign of his vacant honesty and, as the case usually would be, find him lacking in sincerity. Often, she’d ask him for some sort of token to give him a reason to return. From his lies she had built up a small collection of his belongings. Her current inventory included: his golden chain, his sunglasses, two of his jackets, three of his belts, his earring, his shoelace and his iPod. However, this time she kept completely silent. Her eyes fixed to him as he casually strolled into the distance.
His latest excuse was that he had his weekly ‘band practice’. Although she had been declined permission to listen to the non-existent group, her trust still remained with him. His activities varied on a regular basis: one day he’d have ‘football training’; the next ‘guitar lessons’. He was surprisingly good at manipulating her into seeing false truths within his lies. Never had he actually been doing as he said, not even once.
The truth was this: he was a dealer, not only a dealer but a consumer too. Every night he’d hide the truth somewhere between his never-ending lies. He’d promise himself that tomorrow he’d confess, but truth be told he was ashamed and afraid. Ashamed because he’d let himself down. Ashamed because his bad habits were obstructing the love between him and her. Ashamed because the truth was constantly being painted over by another layer of lies. Afraid of the creation of his bad reputation. Afraid of the failure of his already ruined relationship. Afraid that no matter how many layers of paint covered his initial disaster, she’d eventually see gaps within his work and come to realise what truths lay beneath the infinite coats of lies.
Today there was no way that he’d be back to her within half an hour. After supplying his first customer, he bumped into a couple of old friends. These old friends weren’t just any old friends; they were the old friends that helped him to weave his way into the business he’s in to begin with. He had quite a long conversation to catch up with them, ending in the offering of a certain substance. It was inevitable that he would take the small gift; after all, he was not one to reject such a gesture of friendship, as this would be rude and against his nature. So, he and his companions escorted each other to a small camp in the woodland. Despite his efforts to not over do it, his addiction finally got the better of him as his light head floated higher and higher above the treetops.
Meanwhile, she waited in the exact spot in which she was left. Half an hour was fast approaching and she could feel her heart sinking lower and lower into the pit of her stomach. All of the hope that she had built up fell and shattered into a thousand tiny fragments as the second hand ticked past the thirty minute mark. Above her was the red, heart-shaped balloon that he had given her as a gift earlier that day. She stared at it, her chestnut eyes almost overflowing with tears. The pain that she endured day after day was getting unbearable. She knew what she had to do – she had to end this. Slowly, she removed a badge from her tie and lowered the balloon to her level. One hand holding the badge and the other the balloon, she tightly squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breathe and... BANG! She had stabbed her own heart. Waterfalls of tears came rushing down her cheeks as she collected the scraps of rubber that carpeted the concrete. Out of her bag she brought the valentines card that he had given her and a pen. She removed the card from the envelope and on the back of it wrote:
‘I can’t live with this pain any longer. I’ve broken my heart – the one you gave me. It hurt, a lot. But, in the end it was a lot less painful than carrying on like this. My heart is a fragile thing – it can only take so much damage. Like a balloon it is easily broken, but I’m still to see whether balloons can be fixed. Inside are the pieces of my heart. Can you fix it? Please fix it so it works again, please. Love you with every piece of my broken heart. xXx’
She crossed out her name on the envelope, replacing it with his. She inserted the card (enclosed inside it the pieces of her heart) and then kissed it.
It was only a short walk to his house. She wasn’t the least bit surprised that he wasn’t there; she had become accustomed to his disloyalty and wasn’t expecting that his family were treated any differently from her. The letterbox held her full attention. A nervous sigh escaped her nervous lips as she posted the card. She felt a weird mixture of relief and regret. Relief because she had put a stop to her ongoing pain and heartache. Regret because she had just ended what she believed to be the greatest thing that had ever happened to her. A single tear rolled down her rose-tinted cheek as she walked away from his house towards her home.
It was in the early afternoon of the next day when he returned to his house. Completely unaware of yesterday’s events, he opened the door as her usually would. When he stepped into the empty house, he heard something rustle beneath his foot. Looking slightly confused, he picked it up and opened it. The rubber rags of the red balloon floated gently to the ground. Even now, he was still blissfully unaware as to what was happening. It was not until he read the message that he came to realise that his fears had become a reality. As he stroked her perfectly imperfect handwriting, his eyes started to become puffy and well up. He tried his hardest not to let even one teardrop cross his eyelids. She’s only a girl, he kept repeating in his head. But to him she was not just a girl, she was the girl. The girl he once had, but got separated from. The girl he couldn’t bring back. Even his best efforts couldn’t fix the balloon. He pieced it all together, but couldn’t attach the pieces to each other. It was official; he would never be the one to mend her heart. Reluctantly, he let a tear through the boundary of his eyelids. Regret and upset were the only feelings present at this time. He had finally come to the realisation that he’d lost her. Forever.
His lies were beginning to appear more and more frequently. The trust it their relationship was slowly running out. In the early days, his deep, blue eyes would meet hers and she would instantly believe his sorry stories. But now, now she’d search his expression for the first sign of his vacant honesty and, as the case usually would be, find him lacking in sincerity. Often, she’d ask him for some sort of token to give him a reason to return. From his lies she had built up a small collection of his belongings. Her current inventory included: his golden chain, his sunglasses, two of his jackets, three of his belts, his earring, his shoelace and his iPod. However, this time she kept completely silent. Her eyes fixed to him as he casually strolled into the distance.
His latest excuse was that he had his weekly ‘band practice’. Although she had been declined permission to listen to the non-existent group, her trust still remained with him. His activities varied on a regular basis: one day he’d have ‘football training’; the next ‘guitar lessons’. He was surprisingly good at manipulating her into seeing false truths within his lies. Never had he actually been doing as he said, not even once.
The truth was this: he was a dealer, not only a dealer but a consumer too. Every night he’d hide the truth somewhere between his never-ending lies. He’d promise himself that tomorrow he’d confess, but truth be told he was ashamed and afraid. Ashamed because he’d let himself down. Ashamed because his bad habits were obstructing the love between him and her. Ashamed because the truth was constantly being painted over by another layer of lies. Afraid of the creation of his bad reputation. Afraid of the failure of his already ruined relationship. Afraid that no matter how many layers of paint covered his initial disaster, she’d eventually see gaps within his work and come to realise what truths lay beneath the infinite coats of lies.
Today there was no way that he’d be back to her within half an hour. After supplying his first customer, he bumped into a couple of old friends. These old friends weren’t just any old friends; they were the old friends that helped him to weave his way into the business he’s in to begin with. He had quite a long conversation to catch up with them, ending in the offering of a certain substance. It was inevitable that he would take the small gift; after all, he was not one to reject such a gesture of friendship, as this would be rude and against his nature. So, he and his companions escorted each other to a small camp in the woodland. Despite his efforts to not over do it, his addiction finally got the better of him as his light head floated higher and higher above the treetops.
Meanwhile, she waited in the exact spot in which she was left. Half an hour was fast approaching and she could feel her heart sinking lower and lower into the pit of her stomach. All of the hope that she had built up fell and shattered into a thousand tiny fragments as the second hand ticked past the thirty minute mark. Above her was the red, heart-shaped balloon that he had given her as a gift earlier that day. She stared at it, her chestnut eyes almost overflowing with tears. The pain that she endured day after day was getting unbearable. She knew what she had to do – she had to end this. Slowly, she removed a badge from her tie and lowered the balloon to her level. One hand holding the badge and the other the balloon, she tightly squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breathe and... BANG! She had stabbed her own heart. Waterfalls of tears came rushing down her cheeks as she collected the scraps of rubber that carpeted the concrete. Out of her bag she brought the valentines card that he had given her and a pen. She removed the card from the envelope and on the back of it wrote:
‘I can’t live with this pain any longer. I’ve broken my heart – the one you gave me. It hurt, a lot. But, in the end it was a lot less painful than carrying on like this. My heart is a fragile thing – it can only take so much damage. Like a balloon it is easily broken, but I’m still to see whether balloons can be fixed. Inside are the pieces of my heart. Can you fix it? Please fix it so it works again, please. Love you with every piece of my broken heart. xXx’
She crossed out her name on the envelope, replacing it with his. She inserted the card (enclosed inside it the pieces of her heart) and then kissed it.
It was only a short walk to his house. She wasn’t the least bit surprised that he wasn’t there; she had become accustomed to his disloyalty and wasn’t expecting that his family were treated any differently from her. The letterbox held her full attention. A nervous sigh escaped her nervous lips as she posted the card. She felt a weird mixture of relief and regret. Relief because she had put a stop to her ongoing pain and heartache. Regret because she had just ended what she believed to be the greatest thing that had ever happened to her. A single tear rolled down her rose-tinted cheek as she walked away from his house towards her home.
It was in the early afternoon of the next day when he returned to his house. Completely unaware of yesterday’s events, he opened the door as her usually would. When he stepped into the empty house, he heard something rustle beneath his foot. Looking slightly confused, he picked it up and opened it. The rubber rags of the red balloon floated gently to the ground. Even now, he was still blissfully unaware as to what was happening. It was not until he read the message that he came to realise that his fears had become a reality. As he stroked her perfectly imperfect handwriting, his eyes started to become puffy and well up. He tried his hardest not to let even one teardrop cross his eyelids. She’s only a girl, he kept repeating in his head. But to him she was not just a girl, she was the girl. The girl he once had, but got separated from. The girl he couldn’t bring back. Even his best efforts couldn’t fix the balloon. He pieced it all together, but couldn’t attach the pieces to each other. It was official; he would never be the one to mend her heart. Reluctantly, he let a tear through the boundary of his eyelids. Regret and upset were the only feelings present at this time. He had finally come to the realisation that he’d lost her. Forever.