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Nothing But the Truth: Chapter 4
🕑 Added 2025-09-22 15:55:11 +0000 UTCCaden
“Is she ready yet?” I said, calling out towards the bathroom, tapping my foot on the hardwood floor.
“Almost done!” Kira called out from behind the bathroom door.
“You said that the last three times!”
“You cannot rush an artist at work!”
Now that was just unfair: I’d said that to her once when I was taking too long to develop some photos, and she’d been firing it back at me every time I got impatient with her makeup work since then. She personally did Aimee’s makeup whenever they had a date night, and now she was extending that courtesy to my…
To…
My date.
My assignment.
My…
Alicia. To Alicia.
My heart growled like a hungry beast whenever I thought of her. I didn’t trust it. Not a tiny bit. The last girl I’d felt like that around… It hadn’t ended well, and that was the whole reason I was in this fucking situation in the first place. Yes, I was attracted to Alicia. Yes, she and I had very good chemistry because sometimes two people just click right away and that’s fine. That happens. But anything else I felt was obviously me projecting, obviously some naive hopeless romantic bullshit I should’ve outgrown by now. I was almost twenty, for God’s sake. I was supposed to be more mature than that. More in control than that. I wasn’t supposed to keep having feelings- that’s ridiculous. Feelings were for children. They just made everything worse.
I checked my messages. Nothing new from Big Dog. I hadn’t bothered telling him that I was bringing Alicia to the party tonight. The less he knew the better. If I could keep her to myself… No, I didn’t have that right. All I could do was make sure she had a good time and shield her from harm. That was all I could do. It was all I knew how to do.
The bathroom door opened, and my sister walked out. She closed it behind her gently, then walked over to me.
“Hey. What’s up?” I said, raising an eyebrow.
She stood next to me in the hallway, leaning against the wall. She took out her phone and started tying out a message, not looking at me as she said, “Oh, nothing. Just, uh, helping the beautiful girl feel beautiful. She’s a real pistol, this one.”
My phone dinged in my pocket, and my sister nodded towards me knowingly.
One new message from Kira.
Kira: there’s something off about this girl.
Me: what does that mean?
Kira: vibes. She’s not being honest with you.
Well I’m not being honest with her, so…
Me: I don’t really know what to do with that?
Kira: just be careful.
Me: I will. I’m more worried about her though. Places like this party aren’t usually all that trans-friendly. Also, some of the guys there are like… Legit racist.
Kira: I’m not saying she deserves to be exposed to all that. But maybe don’t let your guard down all the way?
Me: I never do
Kira: good lad. Just like I taught you.
We fist-bumped with our eyes still locked on our phones, then put them away.
Kira ‘ahemed’ and then proclaimed with a dramatic flourish of her hands, “And now, presenting the lovely young debutante, Miss Alicia Hernandez!”
The door cracked open, and in a pair of sensible flats, out walked the woman of the hour. Her hot pink, short-sleeved dress hugged her bust and stopped just above the knees, revealing smooth legs and hinting at her thick thighs while offering a peak at the valley of her cleavage. Her hair was flat-ironed and hung over her shoulders like a curtain of pure midnight, framing her face perfectly. And her face…
Alicia was always pretty. Even that morning, I’d thought she was beautiful. But this was… Holy shit. Her eyes were huge and her lips were red and kissable and her skin was smooth and clear. She wasn’t just beautiful, she was sinfully fucking gorgeous!
“Holy shit,” I said.
“Like what you see?” Alicia said, strutting up to me, offering me a hand.
On reflex, I kissed her knuckles.
“Call me ‘milady’ please,” Alicia grinned.
I groaned. “I’m not doing that.”
“Why? Am I not a lady?”
“Of course you are. Feels a little soon to be busting out the ‘milady’ thing though. Also, isn’t that like… Super douchey?”
“Not if I tell you to say it. Unless you’re calling me a douchebag.”
I took a beat, then smirked. “You said it, not me.”
Alicia rolled her beautiful brown eyes and scoffed. “Dickhead.”
“There it is,” I laughed.
“Thank you again for helping me with my makeup,” Alicia said, squeezing Kira’s hand. My sister, for her part, flinched when it happened but didn’t say anything. “Is there any chance I could maybe get lessons from you?”
“Let’s… Let’s see how tonight goes first, yeah?” Kira said.
“Of course!” Alicia chirped, trying way too hard to sound bubbly. Maybe Kira was onto something. “Now then, good sir: shall we?”
She offered me her hand, and I took it as I led her to the front door. I waved good-bye to Kira, who in turn tapped her finger against her temple and raised her eyebrows. She’d done that since I was kid, since I’d first come to live with her. It was her way of saying ‘stay on guard.’ It was an imperative that had kept me alive until now, so it seemed smart to stick to the plan.
The party was far enough to warrant calling a rideshare, and was already underway by the time we arrived. It was a two-story house in a ritzy neighborhood, painted blue and with people practically bursting out of the rafters. Strobe lights blared inside, accompanied by some of the worst house music I’d ever had the misfortune to hear.
My pulse quickened as we opened the door and jammed our way in. I held tight to Alicia’s hand as we parsed through the crowd of sweaty dudes and scantily-clad girls. Another deep, irritated groan escaped me within thirty seconds of entry.
“Wanna dance?” Alicia said.
I blinked. “Uh-”
“We’re dancing, come on.”
She tugged on my wrist until we were in the center of a cramped, uncarpeted living room surrounded by other people on all sides. She started shaking her hips and stepping to the beat, while I… Awkwardly flailed about as my own misery started to saturate my brain. Ugh. Why did we have to be here? I hadn’t wanted to come here! Alicia had…
Which was more than a little odd.
“Hey, what the hell are you doing, dickhead?” she asked me as she started grinding on me. “We’re supposed to be dancing. You look like an angry wet cat stuck behind a glass door while food is on the other side.”
“That’s… Specific.”
“Well I’m a writer, ya know?”
“True. Uh… I don’t really dance-”
“Booo!”
“What the- don’t boo me!”
“Then remove the stick from your ass and start dancing.”
“I don’t know how!”
“You’re a boxer, aren’t you? Just watch my feet, try to keep pace. Think you can manage that without the stick?”
I grinded my teeth together. This girl…
She tugged my hands onto her hips, and I reluctantly started tracking her feet and syncing my movements to hers. The music was shit, so I wasn’t exactly inclined to match the rhythm, but she didn’t give me much of a choice. She was pulling me and pushing me every which way, demanding I spin her, demanding I let her straddle my chest, demanding I twist and shake in ways that no doubt looked embarrassing as all hell.
God, this was awful. I mean, sure, I was starting to get a bit of an adrenaline rush, could feel some endorphins hitting me to take the sting off of being publicly humiliated in front of people I needed to impress, but that didn’t change the fact that this was all my least favorite things at once: big crowds and shitty music and all these assholes I needed to associate with and fucking dancing. Ugh!
Alicia chose that moment to jump into my arms. Reflexively, I held her up, her arms around my neck and her forehead against mine. She took my hands and guided them to her ass, compressing her grip so that I would take a fistful. Okay, that part… That part was pretty spectacular, I won’t lie. But still!
“What are you doing?” I said, her mouth an inch from mine. I walked us through the terrible dancers vibing to the terrible music and rested my back against a wall by the stairs, but kept on holding Alicia up. It felt…
“Oh, just trying to see if there’s literally anything I can do to get you to stop sulking and enjoy yourself even a tiny little bit.”
“Gonna be tough,” I said as she started digging her fingers through my hair. It felt…
“Dude, seriously, you are sucking the energy out of the room,” Alicia said, the artificial cheer draining out of her voice and letting the genuine irritation of her mood come out unfiltered. It was… It stung. I didn’t like it when she was annoyed at me. And that was a terrifying prospect, on multiple levels. Maybe setting a few boundaries now would help with… Whatever it was I was doing at this point. And maybe a little honesty would coax out whatever it was she was doing.
“I… I’m not much for parties,” I said. God, her ass was amazing. I kept kneading my fingers into it. For her part, it seemed like the one thing keeping her from getting really, truly pissed at my wet-blanketing.
“And yet you’re joining a frat. Wanna walk me through that perfectly logical decision?”
“It’s… It was a strategic career move. Networking. Connections. That kind of thing.”
“That’s-”
“Entirely in character for this one,” a familiar voice cut through the noise and pierced the strange little bubble Alicia and I had formed around us.
I groaned again. Loud enough to hear above the music. And I looked up to find Big Dog standing on the stairs above us, mugging with that horrible fucking smile of his. He was a skinny, slippery looking grad student with a mop-head of blonde hair, clad in a purple polo shirt and jorts. He leaned over the edge of the railing, his fucking face right up close to both mine and Alicia’s.
“Randal,” I grunted.
“Caden the Cad,” he returned.
Alicia chuckled. “Caden the Cad?”
“It’s our nickname for him,” Randal said, pushing our faces apart and getting very close to Alicia’s mouth. A fresh candle of rage lit, and I set Alicia down onto her feet carefully.
“It’s not. Only you call me that,” I said.
Randal proceeded to hit a button on his phone, stopping the music. Every single partygoer’s gaze shot towards us. “Hey, everyone! What do we call Mr. Monroe here?”
“Caden the Cad!” a choir of male voices belted out, completely in sync. Goddammit, it was creepy when they did that.
“Good boys,” Randal said, turning the music back on and letting everyone get back to it. Then, he began climbing down the stairs and said, “Now what was it you were saying, Cad?”
I growled, another candle lighting inside me. “Alicia, this is Randal-”
“Big Dog,” he said as he finished descending the stairs. “Everyone calls me Big Dog, just like everyone calls him Cad.”
“Why do they call you Big Dog?” Alicia said, quirking an eyebrow.
“Because I’m president of the frat,” he kept on smirking as he stood in front of us.
“And why do they call my date here ‘Caden the Cad.’”
“Because of how he is with women,” Randal said. Bitch. “You best watch out, little lady. This one will break your heart and then play the victim afterwards.”
“Will he, now?” Alicia said. And then swatted me on the ass. God, the mixed signals on this girl- was she doing this because she liked me or because she was… Because why? What? What on earth could have been her angle?
I needed more information.
“You’ve done well, Cad,” Randal said. “It’s a nice change of pace.”
“What does that mean?” Alicia asked.
“It means-”
“Randal, please,” I said quietly, trying to smother my anger with no success. The flames only grew hotter and brighter the more I tried. “We were having a nice time-”
“No we weren’t,” Alicia said, climbing out of my arms and putting her hands on her hips. “You were sulking.”
“He’s always sulking,” Randal said, now literally standing between us.
“Sounds like you’ve got some stories to share with me,” Alicia smiled. Smiling at him the way she smiled at me… Except, no, that wasn’t quite right. This one didn’t reach her eyes.
“And I’d love to share them with you, milady,” Randal leered. Fucking douche. And now her smile was reaching her eyes, God fucking dammit! “Perhaps over a drink from the private collection.”
“Private- is this your house?” Alicia asked.
“Pfft, no, I would never live in a dump like this. But I know where the host keeps the good stuff.”
This needed to stop. And it needed to stop now. I started, “Hey, so-”
“Actually, I think I’m gonna mingle a bit,” Alicia said. “I see a few girls from some of my classes. Think I’ll go talk to them, let you boys catch up.”
“Oh come on, babe, don’t be like that,” Randal said.
“Just be careful,” I said.
For her part, Alicia nodded, then kissed me on the cheek before vanishing into the sea of partygoers.
Randal met my gaze, and instantly that smile of his vanished and was replaced by the most heinous, contemptuous expression imaginable. “We’re going to have a conversation now. Upstairs.”
I pictured cold water running over me, dousing the flames, leaving me calm. It… Somewhat worked.
It would have to do.
I nodded, then followed Caden upstairs.
This really wasn’t Randal’s place: it was his older brother’s. I’d never met Doug, but I struggled to imagine him as anything other than a carbon copy of his shitty brother. I also struggled to imagine him being okay with Randal destroying his house and drinking his booze, but frankly the less I knew about his shitty family the better.
We went into a master bedroom, finding it occupied by a pledge named Heath and a tall, leggy blonde making out on the four-poster bed.
“Leave. Now,” Randal growled.
“The fuck we will,” the blonde rolled her eyes.
Heath, meanwhile, just grabbed her hand and physically pulled her out of the room while she protested. Randal slammed the door behind them, then went into the bathroom and retrieved a bottle of whiskey. He started drinking straight from it, and pointedly did not offer me any. He sat on the bed, but pointedly did not invite me to sit with him.
Instead, he aimed a finger at the floor.
I grinded my teeth together, using all my strength not to tell him to go fuck himself. Slowly, visualizing the showerhead waterfall still, I sat on the floor and looked up at Randal ‘Big Dog’ Parker.
“You’re doing well on your assignment,” he said after swallowing his third gulp of whiskey. “Perhaps a little too well.”
What the fuck does that even mean, you assclown?! I thought.
“I’m… A little confused as to what you’re suggesting. Big Dog,” I said.
“Big Dog…”
I breathed in through my nose, out through my mouth. “Big Dog, Sir.”
“Good boy,” Randal said. “And I’m not surprised you’re confused. Your small, smooth brain indicates that’s your default state.”
“... Right.”
“So I’ll put this in terms even you can understand: your assignment should not be that attractive. The idea is for her to be a low-value female. Why is she so well-groomed?”
“It was her idea.”
“You will discourage her from doing such things in the future,” Randal said plainly. “We don’t want any of the assignments to get ideas of rising above their station. Especially not one like her. She’s barely a female. If you don’t treat her properly, she might even start thinking she’s a woman.”
She is a woman, you piece of fucking shit. I ought to beat you fucking bloody right here and now and send photos to your asshole brother, I thought. “Right,” I said.
“Still, she is on the hook. So that’s not a bad thing,” he said, taking another drink, his words starting to slur together. I wondered how many he’d already had. “You’ll keep her there. But remember: don’t feed her ego. If you do, she’ll decide she can do better than you. Admittedly, she can, but that has more to do with you than her. A low value male doesn’t even deserve a low value female.”
“And what do I deserve, then? In your opinion?” I said, eyes narrow, tone flat. It slipped out, and I instantly regretted it. One snarky comment could get me sent right back to square one and I could not afford that. Especially not now.
“I don’t have opinions. Only facts,” Randal said severely. I could smell the drunk on him, even all the way from the floor. “And the fact is that you deserve to die alone. Perhaps you can prove me wrong, but you’ve not made a good case for yourself in the past year. You’re driven entirely by greed and lust and ego. Disgusting. You can never amount to anything of substance unless you have ideals.”
I breathed in through my nose, out through my mouth. Then I nodded.
“Now then, go. Get to work on your assignment. I have business to conduct here,” he said, pouring another mouthful of whiskey down his throat.
I got up, headed for the door. I took one look back to find him unzipping his pants, then hurried out of the room.
I spent twenty minutes combing through the party, looking for Alicia. I didn’t like the idea of her being alone in this den of vipers. Needed to find her and stick to her until she was ready to leave this fucking place, and then we could…
Then I could…
I don’t know. I don’t know what I would do. How I was supposed to proceed? It was one thing to nod my head and pretend to agree with what I was told, it was another thing to actually do it. It was another thing to actually hurt somebody to get what I wanted, to use them and then… Throw them away was presumably what I was supposed to do.
It made me sick to my stomach.
I searched and searched, finding a game of strip-beer pong in the living room, a game of human jenga in the guest bedroom, and a game of something called ‘name that kitchen supply’ in the kitchen (it involved being blindfolded and… I would never look at a jug of olive oil the same way again). Eventually, I found my way outside, where the partygoers were playing lawn-darts while smoking from a bong the size of a German Shepherd. I parsed through the debauchery, hugging the wooden fence separating the yard from a neighbor, until, behind a shed, I heard something.
I heard a woman crying.
I went behind the shed, and found Alicia sitting on the ground with her knees bunched together, sobbing her eyes out, makeup running down her face.
I went down on my knees immediately, putting my arms around her, squeezing her tight. “Hey. Heyyy, what’s going on? What happened?”
“Tried… Tried talking to some people,” she whispered. “It didn’t go well.”
“How do you mean?”
“They… My classmates. A lot of them… They weren’t very happy to see me. And they made that known.”
My fists gathered, and the candles all lit until I was an inferno of anger. “You wanna point them out to me?”
“No, I don’t,” Alicia said. “I wanna go. Can we go?”
My chest ached, the anger mixing with cold shame. She’d been humiliated. I’d expected something like this to happen. And I was party to it. And I was going to engineer even more humiliation for her. Because that was what I’d signed up for. That was the cost of paying my debt.
I didn’t know if it was worth it. I had to pay, but… But this was wrong. What I was doing was wrong. As I thought of Randal up in his brother’s bedroom, drunkenly masturbating after dressing me down and winding me up like a toy soldier to do his bidding, seemingly going out of his way to make sure Alicia would be as miserable as possible and hate me as much as possible… I didn’t know if I was worth it.
But I didn’t know a way out of this, either.
All I knew was I needed to get her out of here.
I stood up, offering her my hand and a gentle smile. She sniffled, took my hand, and rose with me. She kept holding it as we left together. Kept holding it the whole ride back to my place. Kept holding it once we were inside.
Kira wasn’t home (she was probably on a date with Aimee), so we had the house to ourselves again. I guided Alicia to my couch, then told her to wait there while I went and got makeup wipes for her. She’d been silent since we’d left the party, so she simply nodded while looking like she wasn’t looking at anything.
I hurried into the bathroom and found a packet of makeup wipes. I knelt down in front of her, happy to be on my knees for her (not like that). “May I?”
She whispered, “You don’t have to-”
“Yeah, I do,” I said. “It’s my fault this happened. Please just… Let me make it right?”
A tiny smile flickered before my eyes. “Okay.”
I cupped her chin while I wiped the foundation and lipstick and blush off of her, doused some cotton balls in a separate cleanser and took care of her runny mascara and eyeliner. I guided her to the bathroom so she could wash her face, then brought her some of Kira’s good moisturizer afterwards.
She returned to her place on the couch. Her face was back to normal, but she still looked miserable. I needed to do something to put her in a better mood, something to make up for what had happened-
Dammit. I knew what to do.
I handed her my phone. “Here. Passcode is 0085. Pull up spotify, put on whatever song you want.”
“Why-”
“Just… Indulge me for a sec. Please.”
She nodded. She pulled up a song, let it play out of the speakers on my smart phone: Sabrina Carpenter’s ‘Espresso.’ Not really my vibe, but I could appreciate some good craft when I heard it. And it was perfect for what I had in mind.
“Show me how to dance to this?” I said.
She gave a skeptical laugh. I raised an eyebrow. “You’re serious?” she asked.
I nodded.
“But you hate dancing.”
“Yeah, but I like you,” I said. I didn’t know… I didn’t quite know how true that was yet, but I got a warm feeling in my chest when I said it. Not hot, like the incandescent rage I’d felt earlier. But warm. Comfortable. Relaxing. I… I wanted to let my guard down, even though I knew I shouldn’t.
She guided my hands to her hips once again, started shaking to the beat, and gave me pointers on how to keep up. And I did, letting the rhythm take me, moving along to the lyrics, letting myself smile as she started to sing along to them.
I would need to make a decision soon, about my future, about what I wanted and what I was willing to do to get it. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I knew I didn’t want to see her cry again.
For now, for tonight, we could just… Dance. We could just be.
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Helena Heissner
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