Little Liar: A Dark Taboo Romance (The Web of Silence Duet Book 2)
Little Liar: Part 1 – Chapter 1

Part 1

Wind blows in my hair as Daddy keeps me on his shoulders on the way to the playground at the bottom of the neighborhood we live in.

Mommy is at work, so we’re going to have some fun before we pick her up in Daddy’s new car. We’re making cookies tonight!

“Did you have fun at school today?” Daddy asks me, and I scream a “yes!”

I hold his head in a tight hug as we cross the street. Little droplets of rain hit my face, but I have on my raincoat and welly boots so we can jump in puddles.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, son?”

“Can we go for more ice cream on the way home?”

He laughs and flips me off his shoulders. I giggle and scream as he tickles me and puts me on my feet. He wipes the chocolate ice cream from my chin and takes my hand. “If we have time, yes. We need to pick your mommy up from work in an hour.”

I grin and skip, jumping in the puddles as we go. A big truck passes us suddenly, and I wince, covering my ears and screwing my eyes shut.

“Hey,” Daddy says, crouching down in front of me until the truck vanishes, but my ears still ring painfully. I want it to stop—why won’t it stop?

My bottom lip quivers, and when I open my eyes, Daddy is watching me. “It’s getting worse, huh?”

I nod slowly. I don’t like loud noises—they hurt my ears and make my chest all tight.

“Come on,” he says, standing and taking my hand again. “A quick play on the swings and we’ll get more ice cream.”

A smile cracks over my face, and Daddy skips with me through the playground, lifts me onto the swing, and pushes me high while I smile harder and scream louder.

No other kids are here, which is good. We never come here when it’s busy. I think Daddy likes it when it’s just the two of us.

Daddy always takes me out to the park. Or we go to the swimming pool where he teaches me how to float.

He ushers me to the merry-go-round. “I won’t spin you too fast,” he says, pulling my hood up as the rain turns heavier. “Hold tight.”

Before he can spin, I gasp and lean forward. “Daddy, look!”

A little spider is making a web on the bar. It’s small and black, and the droplets are getting in the way. Daddy reaches his finger out, and the spider crawls onto it. “Look at that,” he says, sitting down beside me, making the merry-go-round creak. He lowers his finger to my hand. “You wanna hold it?”

I nod and even feel a little nervous as I rest my hand on my lap, palm-side up, and giggle when Daddy makes the spider crawl onto my hand. It’s so small and helpless and lonely. The rain must be making it all wet and cold. “Can we take him home?”

But as Daddy goes to reply, thunder cracks above us, making me jump. My hands fist, and I accidentally crush and drop the spider. It lands right in a small puddle on the metal.

For a few breaths, I stare at it with wide eyes. It doesn’t move.

“No!” I scream and try to get it, but he stops me. “Save him, Daddy!”

“He’s asleep, son. Thunder makes spiders sleep. He’s okay. Will we go get some ice cream now?”

“But… but…”

Daddy lifts me into his arms as tears start to slide down my cheeks.

“It’s okay, Malachi. Don’t be upset. He’s asleep.”

I cuddle into him and cry. Because I know I crushed the spider. I know it’s dead because of me. My body shakes uncontrollably until I fall asleep in my daddy’s arms while he carries us out of the playground.

“You’re such a good kid, Malachi.”

I like it when it’s quiet. My ears don’t hurt, and the bad butterflies don’t appear, waiting for someone to yell at me.

The house is never quiet.

When Mommy leaves me in the house all alone, I can play with the boxes she’s left sitting around. Sometimes they’re big enough for me to climb in and close the lid, then I can hide until Mommy comes home again and takes me to my bedroom.

I’m too scared to look for the boxes now. Did Mommy come home? Daddy? I haven’t seen my daddy in so long.

I slide off my bed, nearly falling over the bag of dirty clothes as I make my way to my bedroom door. I tug at the handle, and my bottom lip curls.

Why won’t it open?

“Mommy?” I call out, hitting my little fist on the door. I cough into my hand and hit the door again. “Daddy?”

Like every night, nothing. It makes me sad that Mommy doesn’t give me cuddles anymore. Daddy used to hug me until I cried and laughed.

Music is playing really loud—Mommy won’t hear me again. Tears form in my eyes, and I lower my head as I go back to bed. I trip up on the way—I can’t see where I’m going because Mommy took my night light out when I asked when Daddy would come home from work and read a bedtime story to me.

Mommy had said I was being a bad boy by not sleeping, but I wasn’t tired. My tummy was sore, and my cheek hurt from Mommy slapping me because I was crying for her to read me the book instead.

I wipe the back of my hands against my wet cheeks and hug myself with my blankie to try to heat up. It’s always cold now. Rain leaks into my window and soaks my floor—I tried to clean up the puddle soaking my toys with my teddy bear, and now he’s ruined too.

When I fall asleep, I wake to my mommy cuddling me. She smells weird, and the bed is wet. Maybe Mommy needs to wear a diaper like I do. It itches sometimes, especially when I keep it on for days.

I smile as I look up at her face. Her eyes are closed, and she’s snoring, so I bury my head into her chest and fall back to sleep.

I’m happy again.

The following night is the exact same.

The next week is the same. It rolls into more weeks. Months.

Am I five now?

Mommy said I’m weird. She doesn’t like it when I’m weird. How do I stop being weird? I don’t want to be weird. She blames me for Daddy running away.

After school, Mommy holds my hand all the way to the bus. She tells me that my daddy sent me a birthday present, and it’s waiting for me at home. I grin with excitement, skipping the rest of the way and having to pull Mommy along because she’s barely walking straight and smells like beer.

“Slow down, Malachi,” she snaps, yanking my arm hard enough to hurt, making my smile drop.

She has bright red lipstick on today. Some of it is smudged at the corner, and it’s smeared across her teeth. I won’t tell her—she yelled at me the last time I told her.

“Sorry,” I reply quietly and walk slowly all the way home with an ache in my arm—I think she scratched me, but I don’t say anything.

There’s a box on the table with little holes, and a glass tank beside it. A birthday card with a big number five is on the front, and Mommy goes to lie on the couch while I open the card, trying to read the writing. Although Mommy thinks I’m dumb, my teacher always tells me how great I am with words, so even though the handwriting is messy, I can read the note.

Malachi,

I’m sorry I can’t be there for you anymore, son. I hope you can one day forgive me for leaving. You see, Daddy’s head isn’t a nice place, and he’s not good for you and your mother. I tried so hard, but you both deserve better.

I wish I could choose you and fight the poison in my brain, but I can’t. I’ll see you again one day, but hopefully not anytime soon.

Your new eight-legged friend will protect you, just like I know you’ll protect him. I suggest the name Rex or Spikey. Don’t be afraid of him.

After all, you’re an arachnophile, just like me.

Love, Daddy.

I frown and look up, seeing Mommy is already asleep on the sofa. What does Daddy mean? Why can’t he choose me? Where is he going?

My gaze turns to the box, and I drop the card on the table and inch closer. My long, dirty nails peel away the tape from the top, and I gasp when I open it to see a huge fluffy spider crawling around the box.

My eyes widen. “Um, Mommy?”

She’s still snoring, and when I shake her, she knocks me away so I fall on my butt. “Go away.”

I get to my feet and look at the box again, hesitating and a little scared before I go back to it, looking down to see the pet my daddy left me. Then I reach in and hold my hand at the bottom to see if it will come to me, shaking a little when it scurries right into my palm. It tickles, but my heart is going too fast to care.

Will it bite me?

I lift the hand with the spider until it’s at eye level. “Hi,” I say in my squeaky voice. “You’re my new best friend.”

For the next few weeks, life is a little fun again. Mommy told me my new pet was called a tarantula and I needed to keep it in my room. His name is Rex.

He sleeps in his tank while I lie in bed. I sing to him sometimes. He even watches me while I read him a book, so my mommy doesn’t have to.

I don’t see Mommy that much now—she’s always busy with her friends. I miss my daddy, but he said he’ll see me again, so I’ll wait for him to come home.

Big bad men are always in the house. One of them came into my room once and tried to take Rex, but my mommy started locking my door again, this time with two keys.

There are loads of people in the house right now, but I need to sleep. I want to go outside. I’m not allowed to go to school because I’m sick. But I feel fine. Why won’t my mommy let me go outside and play?

Daddy used to always play a game with me. I would hide, and he’d try to replace me. He’d chase me until I laughed, screaming loud enough to hurt my throat, and tears would slide down my cheeks while I smiled up at my hero.

Rex is my only friend now. He’s silent. So am I. Mommy hates that I don’t talk to her anymore, but I like keeping things to myself. Everything I say always results in a slap across my face or her yelling at me.

He’s the only one who talks to me now without using words. My best friend. My protector. My hero until Daddy comes home.

My eyes ping open when I hear a door slam downstairs. Am I supposed to be asleep? I don’t know if the stars are out anymore—Mommy painted my window black, and I’m not allowed to leave my room. Not that I want to. The house is very messy, and the dogs poop everywhere, and there’s never any food.

I think Rex might be hungry too.

The last time I spoke, I told Mommy I didn’t want to wear diapers anymore. I know how to use the bathroom, but I’m not allowed to.

It itches. It hurts when I sit down. She told me to shut up, and I cried to Rex until we agreed not to let anyone hear our voices anymore. He could do it, and since it’s been weeks of silence, so can I.

I stand on shaky legs and open Rex’s tank, replaceing my friend burrowed in his little den. I place my palm down, and it takes him a few minutes before he catches my scent and crawls onto my hand.

The yelling is getting louder, and my breathing turns shaky.

Don’t worry, I say in my head. I’ll protect you.

I jump as a loud, bellowing laugh travels through the door.

It’s my final warning to quickly hide under my bed. I crawl under and place Rex on the floor in front of my face, then lean my chin in my palms and wait for the voices to vanish.

Then I pause and freeze all over, because someone unlocks and opens my bedroom door. Two someones. I can see their dirty socks exploring my room, then a pair of boots appears in front of my face.

“Fuck. It smells like shit in here. Where is he?”

“Elise did say he was in here. How much did you pay her?”

“Fifty,” he replies. “Is the bitch still breathing?”

“Barely. I made sure she took more than enough to kill her though.”

Heart thumping heavy in my chest, I hold my breath—it always helps not to cry when I hold my breath, even if it hurts me and makes my eyes water.

The boots come closer to my bed. I gulp and try scooting away.

My heart goes faster as I gather Rex in my hands protectively. I won’t let them hurt Rex. I—

A hand grabs at my ankle, and the noise I want to let out makes my lungs burn as I’m dragged from under the bed to see a bearded man grinning down at me.

I close my eyes and scream so loud in my head, my brain aches and I get dizzy.

I hold Rex to my chest, my eyes stinging with tears as the man grabs my jaw. I open my eyes to see the other one grinning with a toothless mouth. His gaze drops to my hands. “What do we have here?”

He grabs Rex, and I panic, unable to pull the words together to tell them to stop as they start throwing Rex back and forth like it’s a game. The bad man wraps his fingers around Rex, and I stare at him with wide eyes, desperate for him not to hurt my best friend. I want to scream for them to leave him alone, but I can’t.

I can’t. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.

Rex is the only part I have left of my daddy until he comes for me.

“Your mom is dying,” he says. “Do you want us to help her?”

I nod, my bottom lip trembling.

Please save her. Please, please, please.

“Use your words, boy.”

My lips part, but no sound comes out. I can’t. What’s wrong with me?

He laughs loudly and looks at his friend. “I think we traumatized the kid.”

“Take him downstairs. Show him his whore of a mother taking her last breaths.”

I’m grabbed by the shoulder and dragged to my feet, and then he laughs again. “He’s wearing a goddamn shitty diaper.”

“I want my fifty bucks back,” his friend replies, grimacing.

They take me downstairs, and I can hear the dogs barking, trapped in the kitchen. The man drops me onto the floor, and I open my eyes to see Mommy on the ground, vomit dripping from her mouth, unblinking, staring right at me as her chest struggles to rise and fall—she’s making a horrible choking noise.

Oh no. Mommy? Are you okay?

I can’t form the words.

“Beg us to save her, and we’ll get the paramedics here.”

I look up at the bearded man, my teeth rattling with fear.

I can’t.

I can’t save her.

“Hmm,” he hums, grabbing something from the table. “The kid has a voice. Elise showed us those videos of him, remember? We just need to drag it out of him. What’s in this?” He lifts the pointy thing I’ve seen my mommy play with, and his friend shrugs.

Pain explodes in my arm—I hold my breath and close my eyes as the men chuckle. “He’s stubborn like his mother.”

My eyes go funny—I can’t control them or my body, and I grow weak and tired real fast.

Hours later, I sit up from the floor. Mommy is still in the same position, but her lips are blue and her eyes are still open. The bad men are sitting on the sofa. “Look, the little fucker is awake again.”

My feet hurt. My arms hurt.

They have Rex.

“We need to head off soon, but we have a bet on who can force you to make a sound. You’re like a little mouse, aren’t you, kid? It’s sad.” He looks over at the picture of me, Mommy, and Daddy, all three of us happy as I smile wide for the camera in my daddy’s arms. Our dogs were sitting nice for the picture too. “Good life turned bad and all.”

He sighs deeply and takes Rex in his palm. “Can you count?” he asks me.

I nod once, shakily. My teeth crush together as I keep my eyes on my friend.

Then everything within me screams as he slowly, one-by-one, pulls Rex’s legs off. He tells me to count, to speak up, to scream, and then when he realizes I’m not going to make a sound, he crushes my best friend in his hand, drops him on the floor, and slams his boot down.

I should scream. I should cry. I should do something.

But I couldn’t protect him, just like I couldn’t protect Mommy.

I failed.

“He’s severely emaciated,” a lady says as the doctor shines a light in my eyes. “He had a soiled diaper on when they found him. Sores and rashes all over him.”

Someone tuts, and I’m scared. I feel sleepy, and I want my mommy and daddy. I want to go home.

“The father?”

“Dead. Suicide,” someone adds quietly, but my hearing is better than ever since I stopped talking, like I can focus more on my surroundings. “Child services are conducting a meeting as we speak for an emergency home.”

“This kid isn’t leaving this hospital anytime soon. Can we get more fluids? And we need bloods checked. There are pin pricks on his arms and at the bottoms of his feet.”

“He has a dead spider in his pocket.” The lady’s voice trails off. “Christ,” she whispers.

I blink. They keep asking me things, but I don’t answer them. They might hurt me too.

A tear slips down my cheek when I think of how long I lay on the floor with Rex and my mommy. They wouldn’t wake up. More tears spill, and I feel a hand on my shoulder, making me flinch and pull away.

“You’re safe now,” the lady says. “Can you tell me your name?”

They already know my name.

I’m Malachi.

I keep my lips still and screw my eyes closed. Maybe if I count to ten, they’ll all disappear.

I count in my head.

I don’t know how high I count before I fall asleep again.