A/N: Whoo, another one. Shelby this time, although there is no S&S shipper. But anyway, enjoy the read. Drabbles are...different to write, because what it lacks in length the writer must make up for in impact...yeah. I hope mine work out something like that.
Taste
Shelby used to have a habit of biting her lip when she lied.
It's a broken habit, now, because she's lied so much and so often that it became inconvenient to do so – blood in her mouth and everything. Lying has become much more of a habit than biting her lip ever was.
She lies to a lot of people – she says things she doesn't mean. She doesn't mean it when tells Sophie and Peter that she's all right; she doesn't mean it when she tells Jules that she hates her; and she plain out lies through her teeth when she tells the CPS people that no, her stepfather never, ever touched her, and that he loves her like every father loves his daughter.
Lies. She lies when she tells herself it's better this way, because really, obviously, it's not. She likes to think that it doesn't make her a bad person, no; her lies are borne out of necessity.
Still, she wishes that things weren't this way. She wishes a lot of things – the number of lies that she tells is only second to the number of wishes that she makes; most remain unfulfilled and empty – useless and unnecessary. She once wished that Walt would stop. Then, she wished that her mother would help her. Now, she wishes to God that Walt isn't lying when he says he'll never touch Jess – as long as Shelby never stops lying.
None of her wishes ever came true before. But she bites her lip now and tells herself that this one will, this one has to, and the taste of blood fills her mouth.