Free The Silent Waters by Brittainy Cherry

really starting to piss me off, Cheryl.”
    Cheryl was fighting with her boyfriend, Jordan, across the hall from my bedroom as I sat on my bed reading a novel.
    Correction: Cheryl was fighting with her ex -boyfriend Jordan across the hall from my bedroom as I sat on my bed reading a novel.
    “I’m just saying,” Cheryl groaned, tapping the heel of her shoe against the wall. Her arms were crossed and she kept smacking her bubble gum. “It’s not me, it’s you. I’m just not into you like that anymore.”
    “You gotta be shitting me,” Jordan huffed, his feet storming back and forth in the hallway. “I broke up with my ex for you! I paid more than a hundred bucks for our prom tickets—a fucking dance I didn’t even want to go to—for you. I’ve bent over backward to treat you right. I’ve ditched parties to watch chick flicks with you.”
    Cheryl twirled her hair on her finger and shrugged. “Nobody told you to do all those things.”
    Jordan chuckled, flabbergasted. “Yes! You did! You even smoked my weed every night.”
    “That was me being nice to you,” she explained. “You smoking pot alone would’ve just made you a pothead. You smoking with me made you a social butterfly.”
    “This is bullshit,” he snapped, raking his hands through his hair. “Prom is tomorrow. What the hell am I supposed to do?”
    “Go by yourself.”
    Cheryl was beautiful, that was a given fact. Over the years, she had grown into her body—big chest, thick hips, slim waist—a lot faster than I had grown into mine. In my mind, she had the perfect body, and from years of braces, a perfect smile to go with it. After years of feeling like an outsider, she’d created this persona where she was determined to fit in—even if that meant extreme measures to lose weight for an ounce of attention.
    Another given fact about my sister was that she knew her beauty existed, and she used it in almost every situation to get whatever she wanted in the world—no matter who it hurt. Then, she’d come to my bedroom and tell me about how many guys she used and abused, just to get things from them. Dates, money, presents, sex—anything and everything.
    Sometimes I thought she told me so much because she resented me for making her miss out on so many things as a kid. Other times, I thought she felt guilty about what she did, and my silence gave her a bit of confidence that what she did was okay.
    She was a professional fake lover of love. She made guys believe in the love, too, which wasn’t easy for boys our age—especially for a bad boy turned good like Jordan. He literally went from the biggest jerk ever to a puppy dog whenever he was around Cheryl. He always seemed as if he was begging her to love him—except for when she pissed him off. When she pissed him off, his true colors showed. People could hide their true selves for a while, but over time, the masks always fell off.
    “No. Screw that. You said you loved me,” Jordan choked out, almost close to tears.
    “Yeah, loved— past tense. ”
    I peeked over the top of my book and stared at them. Jordan’s face was red, and Cheryl seemed more than amused by the fact that he was upset.
    “No,” Jordan hissed, grabbing her tightly by the arm.
    I put my book down.
    “No. You don’t get to do this. Not without a real reason.”
    “You want a real reason? Fine.” Cheryl yanked her arm from his grip, and she stood up tall, staring him square in the eyes. “I slept with Hank.”
    Jordan’s eyes grew wide. “What? No, you didn’t.”
    “I did.” Her eyes widened too, and a wicked grin found her lips.
    Oh no. She was about to crush his spirit, the same way she’d crushed many other guys in our hallway.
    “I screwed him at Tim’s party when you were sick, and at his house when I told you I was getting my hair done, and in my room yesterday when—”
    Jordan closed his eyes and his hands wrapped into fists. “Hank is my best friend.”
    She snickered and lightly shoved him in