Chapter 1- Lies
“Majestic.” That’s the word Lizzy would use to describe herself.
She was the beloved only child of her parents. This added to her pampered life. Her father ran a successful company. Her mother is an elementary teacher, loved by the neighborhood for her passion. All in all, Lizzy had it all, including her loving, problematic boyfriend, Shamar.
Lizzy wrapped the gift she had prepared for Shamar with great care. He had the financial means to buy it himself, yet he insisted on receiving it from her. Which made no sense.
Mrs. Lawrence glided into the living room, holding a steaming mug of coffee in her hand. She looked at Lizzy, then at the scattered paper wrappers on the floor. Then glanced at the box in Lizzy’s hand. “What’s that?” Lizzy looked up at her mother and shrugged, “It’s a gift for Shamar.” Mrs. Lawrence hummed before drifting off into the kitchen.
“Clean that mess up before you go.” Mrs. Lawrence yelled from the kitchen. “I know,” Lizzy retorted, rolling her eyes. She finished wrapping the gift and cleaned the area. Then headed upstairs and got dressed. She paused to admire herself in the mirror before heading out.
“I’m heading out now, Mom!” Lizzy yelled, her voice brimming with excitement. “Okay! Be safe!” Mrs. Lawrence yelled from the kitchen. As Lizzy headed towards Shamar’s house, a sense of anticipation mingled with a subtle unease.
Lizzy smiled, a chilling twist on her lips, as she looked at the gift she’d picked for her boyfriend. She walked down their familiar street with light, bouncy steps. Her heart beat with anticipation and something darker.
She knocked on the door, then peered through the window. The same TV show flickered on the screen, a mundane backdrop to the storm brewing within her. Then her eyes dropped. A pair of unfamiliar red women’s heels sat in an orderly fashion by the entrance. She stepped inside, each creak of the floorboards confirming her suspicions.
The soft, rhythmic sounds of moaning and grunting emanating from within struck. Like a physical blow, stealing the air from her lungs and making her stomach plummet. Yet, a peculiar smirk played on her lips.
She went into the living room and scooped up the PS5, still in its wrapping. It was hers now, a small consolation prize. She dropped it off at her house, the weight of it in her arms a strange comfort. Then, she hailed a taxi, directing the driver to a nearby gas station.
Her mind raced as she carefully assembled the pieces of her twisted plan. “What are you doing with gasoline?” The cashier’s voice cut through her thoughts.
Lizzy looked up, her gaze sharp, landing on his name tag. Kendric. A flicker of recognition. Then it clicked: they went to the same high school, but he was always mysterious.
Lizzy ignored the question. Armed with her grim supplies, she returned to Shamar’s house. She slipped inside, confirming they were still there, entangled in their betrayal.
Perfect.
Stepping back outside, she noticed an unfamiliar car parked in front of the house as if it belonged there. A wicked smile stretched across her face.
She uncapped the gasoline; its sharp smell filled the air as she poured it over the car. She struck a match, watching the flame flicker like a secret, and then dropped it. The tiny flame danced, then plunged into the gasoline, igniting it in a furious roar.
She covered her tracks, leaving fast to leave no sign of her work. Then, she calmly walked back into the house. There was no rush. Not yet.
She heard them emerging from his room, fumbling with their clothes. Adrenaline surged through her, pushing her to move forward.
“Shamar! Your car is on fire!” Lizzy shrieked, her voice a perfect blend of alarm and feigned worry.
Behind Shamar, the girl’s eyes widened as she peered through the windows. Glancing at the burning car, she hurried outdoors.
“What the hell, that’s my car!” The girl beside Shamar screamed, her voice raw with disbelief. Shamar, already struggling with his phone, dialed 110, his eyes wide with panic.
He rushed outside, attempting to soothe the frantic girl. Lizzy, always embodying concerned empathy, hushed the girl with a soft voice.
“Everything’s going to be okay. You need to move away from the car; it’s not safe here.”
“She’s right, Alice,” Shamar pressed, his voice strained.
Boom!
Lizzy stood still. The car exploded with a roar. The shockwave pushed them back. “My car!” Alice shrieked and fell into Shamar’s arms. He instinctively wrapped them around her, holding her close as she trembled.
“Stop it, you can’t do anything now. You have to wait for the Fire Brigade,” Shamar said as Lizzy stood nearby, her back turned.
There was no room for tears over a shattered relationship. What mattered now was making those who caused her pain feel the agony they had caused.
Soon after, sirens blared as the fire brigade arrived. They quickly put out the fire. A few minutes later, the police arrived. Lizzy, a master of deception, played her part flawlessly. “Officer, I have nothing to do with this,” she said, her voice innocent, almost naive.
“I came over to surprise my boyfriend, and then, boom, I saw the car was on fire.” She shook her head, a practiced sigh escaping her lips.
“Poor thing... that must be so upsetting for her.” Her gaze met the officer’s, a hint of something unreadable in her. He handed Lizzy a card and said, “That’s it for now.”
“Please contact me if you have any further information.” Lizzy smiled and took the card, her fingers brushing against his. “Will do.” She looked at the two and approached them.
“I have to go home now.” She turned and looked at the girl beside Shamar. “Take care,” she said, her smile warm, her eyes brimming with what appeared to be genuine concern.
The girl walked forward. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” Lizzy grinned.
“My name is Alice,” she said, introducing herself. She didn’t notice the hidden venom behind Lizzy’s sweet smile.
“Nice to meet you, Alice.” Lizzy gave her a wave before making her way to the door.
“Let me walk you out,” Shamar offered, gently placing his hand on Lizzy’s back.
Shamar turned to Lizzy as they arrived at the gate. “Thanks for being here,” Shamar said. A strange tenderness flickered in his eyes, as if he didn’t know the fire had already begun.
Lizzy’s face was blank. It hid the rage and hatred twisting in her gut. “Who is she?” Lizzy asked in a dangerously quiet voice, giving him one last chance to salvage a shred of dignity.
Shamar sighed, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Um, she’s a family member,” he offered, a weak smile plastered on his face.
Lie.
So, family members sleep with each other now? Lizzy thought, with a bitter taste in her mouth.
“Okay,” she shrugged, her voice devoid of emotion, then hailed a taxi and went home. The next day, the PS5, a tangible symbol of his betrayal, was photographed and listed for sale without delay. Within two days, it was gone.
Lizzy’s phone rang nonstop while she packed her bags for university. The calls went unanswered, creating a chaotic symphony around her. “Yes, Lizzy speaking,” she said calmly, folding her clothes.
“Why weren’t you answering my calls?” Shamar’s voice, once a soothing sound, was now a raw, frayed wire, crackling with tension.
Her silence tormented him. It felt like a void that swallowed him whole. He couldn’t stand it, especially not knowing the storm brewing behind her calm face. “I’m busy,” she replied, her tone sharp, devoid of any warmth.
It was no surprise she knew the unspoken question behind his call; she always did. This time, she wanted certainty. She hoped that maybe, just maybe, the pain of regret would finally reach him. “Oh... so, um, what about the gift you promised?” Shamar stammered, wincing at the pathetic whine in his voice.
The words tasted like ash, hollow and insincere. Lizzy’s face contorted with a venomous disgust. The audacity! He didn’t care about the wound he’d inflicted; his only concern was the damned gift.
It was never about her. A dry, humorless chuckle escaped her lips, brittle as shattered glass. Lizzy picked up the phone.
“I sold it,” she said, each syllable a shard of ice cutting through the suffocating tension. On the other end, Shamar’s face contorted into a mask of disbelief and incandescent fury.
The words, choked by a sudden, searing rage, were stuck in his throat, a silent scream of impotent wrath. That was the last time she ever allowed him to twist what was never meant to be his. Her heart.
