Whoever said that truth hurts never had to reveal a painful truth himself. If he had, he would have said that truth was like acid, that it could tear you apart and make you wish to disappear from the face of the earth.
And once everything was said, it didn't get any better. She did not feel relieved. She felt dirty, used, weak. As though she had been raped a second time.
She desperately tried not to start crying. And the best way to do so was to get angry. She pressed her lips together and stared at Templeton in what she hoped was an unnerving and challenging way. I dare you to say something … say a single word and I will tear you to shreds …
But he didn't say anything. Neither did he look her in the eye. She could practically see his mind working.
What was he thinking? Was he already planning how to use this against her? Or should he really be human enough to actually be shocked?
That would be even worse.
She did not want pity. She wanted options. She wanted to do something. But all she could do was to wait for the Speaker to make up his mind and open his mouth.
"Ma'am … I … I don't quite know what to say …"
She interrupted him in a way that would have been considered rude, had it come from any other person.
"Say nothing then. I want the information on him, and I want evidence. I want them by tomorrow morning."
He nodded, still speechless, and got up to leave the room.
When he was gone, the mask of strength and anger crumbled and she covered her face with her hands.
This was just the beginning.
Truth hurts, and she shuddered to think of how it would hurt not only herself but the ones who were closest to her heart.
xoxoxoxoxox
Three can keep a secret when two of them are dead. And three had long since been surpassed in this secret.
So why was she so reluctant to fill another person in on it?
Perhaps it was because this person's reaction mattered the most to her. Perhaps it was because she could not ignore this person's feelings about it and hide behind a wall of professionalism.
Perhaps it was because she was afraid.
Afraid that it would always stand between them. That it would poison their relationship, their family, their life.
Afraid that he might blame her.
Even more afraid that he might pity her.
Mackenzie looked at Rod in the mirror while he was brushing his teeth and tried to find the right words.
He gave her a toothpaste-foamy grin, and she could not help but to smile back. She could not bring herself to destroy this frail harmony they had finally found.
Not tonight.
When he snuck his arms around her waist and directed her towards the bed, each step accentuated by a kiss, she decided to tell him the next day.
She wanted to burn this night into her mind as the last night in which she was the only one who could see the looming shadow, the last night in which he would embrace her thinking of nothing but his love for her.