Everything was silent, and then…
"He's lied before."
It was quiet, so quiet, and yet it may as well have been shouted at the top of his voice. The following silence was even more deafening than the first. No one even dared to breathe.
Because it was so unbelievable that those words had just been spoken, the words they had all tried not to think when they lay in the dark at night, tossing and turning, wondering if they would live to see the morning. It was all they could think about, and all they could tell themselves.
You can't think that. He would never do that, you're being ridiculous.
And the speaker of these words, the one who had never seemed to have his own mind, who had copied what everybody else did to fit in…the fact that it was him who said it was even more unbelievable. Everyone was watching him with undeterminable looks in their eyes…was it fear, or shock, or outrage? The silence was broken again.
"He lied to us for nearly two years. He would have kept lying if we hadn't found out ourselves."
Nobody replied.
"And well, he is…he is-you know…you know where he goes for so long…what if they've persua-"
A cry sounded from upstairs. One of them stood abruptly, disappearing from the room in a whirl of long red hair. The house was moving again. The second person strode from their position at the window. The door slammed on his way out. The third wandered into the next room, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses wearily…eyes which had always been so alight with mischief and happiness and were now haunted by guilt and fear. The speaker remained seating. He hadn't lied…not really. That was what he told himself at night.