“The truly scary thing about undiscovered lies is that they have a greater capacity to diminish us than the exposed ones. They erode our strength. Our self-esteem. Our very foundation.”

-Cheryl Hughes

It is said that we can never go back and rewrite a story. That everything is almost set in stone. But even to that there is an exception. Deception is the biggest eraser of history. It’s like the end of a thriller movie, where all along you thought you knew the plot, only to find out it was nothing like you thought it was.

“I got it wrong EVE-RY time” She said pronouncing every syllable to add emphasis. “Even when I thought I had it right. I got it so, oh-so, VERY wrong.” She spoke of her past relationships as she clutched her chest. “He was the one story I was sure of”.

“I know”

“Now, it feels like everything I thought I knew never was.” She sighed, and her eyes filled with tears. She held her breath hoping that would be enough to keep the dam from breaking.

“It’s like the rug was pulled right from under you”

“It’s beyond that. Oh God! You don’t even understand! Every decision that came after him I founded it on what I thought the story was. How I loved, and who I loved. The things that I did, the people I held. It all was led by what I thought I knew. How I thought the story was. And now, oh GOD! Oh God! I can’t even! It’s just too much”.

She put her hand to her mouth shaking her head. And just like that the dam broke.

Between the sobbing and the tears there was comprehension. And an immeasurable gravity of wretchedness that left her breathless. That clutched her heart. That ravaged her soul. Like a bullet ricocheting inside her obliterating everything in its path.

“There is something wrong with your character if Opportunity controls your loyalty,” her friend went on.

“That’s true. But all I can think about now is how the worst thing about being lied to is knowing you weren’t worth the truth… why wasn’t I worth the truth?”

In the aftermath of it all, the hurt had finally set in. And it was no longer about what they had done, about the act itself. It was about what it had caused. About what it did to her. To her identity and everything she ever thought she knew.

It took her to the darkest place she’d been in years. A place so dark that light was non-existent. A place where ideals and faith were shattered, where life didn’t seem worth the fight, a place where you lose yourself so far among the wreckage that you can’t help but feel broken.

In the aftermath of deceit you find pain and turmoil unimagined. It magnifies insecurities, it makes you question self worth, and it destroys all belief systems. It’s the worst kind of devastation that a heart can endure. Like a tornado it destroys everything in its path.

Ultimately there now was enough hurt for her to build a fortress around her and never let anyone in again. And it seemed unfair how the act of two other people would forever change the taste of love for her.