I disclaim.


The lies were the worst part. Yes, she wasn't a particularly warm person, but it was most definitely the lies that broke up any relationship she might have made, friends or otherwise. She knitted a barrier around her with words, always very careful with what she said. If she lied about her vacation time, saying she had gone to Las Vegas, she made sure that there was little danger of that person finding out she had really just lain on the couch with a stack of books. If someone asked her if she was seeing anybody and she said no, that person would probably never meet Elliot or anyone that knew him. But eventually they all found out, or surmised, or just felt the oddness about her. And she could never bring up enough courage or care within her to apologize. So they drifted away, sometimes storming, sometimes quietly.

They just didn't understand. Her life was so exceedingly boring, so intensely mundane, that without a little excitement, without a few lies here and there, she would go completely insane. She needed the lies. Without them, her life was already written, a routine already scheduled. Now Elliot- Elliot was special. She lied to him just like all the others (she lied to everyone), but Elliot was just too... innocent to see them. So spotless, incorrupt, unsullied, that with just a tweak or two of the words, anything she said was the truth. Perhaps deep within he knew, she didn't see even now how he could not. But it remained to be seen.

At first, she had shied away from him. Where was the excitement in knowing you would never be found out? Where was the thrilling suspense before he discovered her lie, the sweet fulfillment of having fooled another? Gone. It was not there. It had vanished as soon as she realized he would always believe her. Soon, she had found him boring. Why would she want to spend time with this little man, who couldn't even tell the truth from the false? She had resented him, resented his understanding nod when she explained the reason for her silence of late was that she was upset over her recently deceased dog, when she had never owned a goldfish, let alone late, fictional Mr. Twinkie.

What an idiot, she thought to herself as he invited her to a Christmas party. She could have said any number of things as to why she couldn't go, even that she just didn't want to and still he would have that annoying, aggravating smile on his face. What was wrong with him? Was he that naive? She became reckless. One week her parents were dead, and the next she would be out of town for her mother's birthday.

And yet he would nod, and say "Oh, that's nice. Have a good trip." and smile as if everything made perfect sense. In time it came to be an obsession with her. She started to wonder if he had some mental disability, some sort of strange amnesia. He just seemed too damn nice to be real. To be actually that kind, that trusting, that honest. Who was like that? She kept away from him again, didn't like to be around him. He unnerved her. She would walk in another direction when she saw him coming, avoid all contact with him. His touch sent shock waves through her bones, shivers up her back. But he seemed to follow her; every corner she turned, he arose, as if from the shadows. It was all much too dramatic for her, the girl who stole thrills from lies. There was something wrong with this naive, naive, naive boy.

And then he had kissed her. Oh, she had never been kissed before. The many boyfriends she had created, told people about, did not exist. She'd been too quiet, too cold of a person for anyone to want to date her. His lips had been warm and soft against her cool ones, his hand, so gentle when he caressed her face, and his naive eyes, so sweet when he had looked into hers. She had felt safe. Like she would never need worry about another thing again. That he would watch over her. So she had thought, Why not?


Hi, all. Just gonna... put this here... Hopefully more soon.