I Lied For You

I LIED FOR YOU AVA DUNN Copyright © 2023 Ava Dunn All rights reserved. Olive Reads. ISBN: 978-0-6456393-1-5 All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced without the written permission of the publisher. All events and characters in this book are completely fictional. Any resemblance to actual people is entirely coincidental. Licensed cover image by Shutterstock. Cover design by Elysia Clapin. ISBN: 9780645639315 TABLE OF CONTENTS 1 – RILEY 2 – ADAM 3 – RILEY 4 – ADAM 5 – RILEY 6 – ADAM 7 – ACKERMAN 8 – RILEY 9 – ACKERMAN 10 – ADAM 11 – RILEY 12 – ADAM 13 – ACKERMAN 14 – RILEY 15 – ACKERMAN 16 – ADAM 17 – RILEY 18 – ACKERMAN 19 – CODY 20 – ADAM 21 – RILEY 22 – CODY 23 – RILEY 24 – CODY 25 – ADAM 26 – RILEY 27 – ADAM 28 – RILEY 29 – ADAM 30 – CODY 31 – ACKERMAN 32 – ADAM 33 – RILEY 34 – CODY 35 – ADAM 36 – RILEY 37 – CODY 38 – ACKERMAN 39 – RILEY 40 – ADAM 41 – ACKERMAN 42 – RILEY 43 – ACKERMAN 44 – CODY 45 – RILEY 46 – ACKERMAN 47 – RILEY 48 – ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 49 – ABOUT THE AUTHOR 1 RILEY The beach was quiet, until it wasn’t. My footsteps echoed as I sprinted along the private pier nestled in the horseshoe bay. Monday morning became brash. I pounded the wooden slats and they rocked and clattered, sending bangs up to where the mansions sat like beacons. No pause, no gasps for air as I leapt off into the frigid water of Port Phillip Bay. Air bubbles surrounded me and I hovered between life and death, up or down, before I kicked my legs like propellors and jetted back to the surface, knocking my long brown hair off my face. Numb fingers and numb toes, but burning inside. Each time I dove off the pier, I imagined I was running away from my father. One day I’d be free from him and his abuse. Whatever it took to get away, I would do it. But until that day came, I would swim. I swam every morning at sunrise. A light fog lifted off my father’s yacht that bobbed in the gentle water of the still morning. Crystal like a lake, the water welcomed me but punished my bare skin with the needles of the late winter cold. One leg kick and one arm stroke at a time, my heart chose life. Adrenaline could stop it, though I had to trust that it would keep beating, even with the violent electric shock that rippled through me upon each morning’s dive. The sun peeked her rays over the trees, signalling that it was time for me to go in. I padded up to the house to get ready for school, and passed one of the security cameras on my way back inside. My head remained down, despite my wishes to smash that damn camera against the patio and jump on it until it shattered. Inside, Mum sang her favourite songs, and Dad whistled to the coffee machine's hiss and chug. He drank his coffee, espresso with no sugar, with his eyes on his phone. Mum adjusted the belt on her satin dressing gown and tapped her peroxide blonde curls, making them bounce. We ate breakfast as a family, after my bolus load of insulin. My long hair dripped down my back and made a puddle where I sat. I’d wipe it clean later. My father kissed the side of my mother’s head and caressed her cheek with his meaty hands. He once threw her down our flight of stairs. She fell and broke her arm. I saw the whole thing from my bedroom opposite the landing. Their raised voices had taken my eyes to where my father gripped my mother’s arm. He pitched her; she hit the edge of the banister and tumbled with cracks and wails that made me yank on my hair and grit my teeth. Be quiet or I’d be next. I hid under the bed and quivered until I threw up. This morning, his blue eyes, the eyes I inherited from him, were locked on his phone, until I scraped the stool back and placed my dishes into the sink with a loud clang. ‘Riley,’ he warned. ‘Clean up before Adam takes you to school.’ Adam Marshall was his assistant. He was the coolest guy I knew. He was in his twenties and he took care of me. He was going to get me away from my father. I nodded to Dad; my face hot thinking about Adam. I washed and dried my dishes, and put them back in their correct place. Dad watched me to make sure I didn’t miss a step. Each step, my every move, was monitored, by his eyes, the eyes of the sixteen cameras around the house or by the eyes of Adam, technically employed by my father to keep me and my mother safe from outsiders – but really, he kept us safe from my father. I dressed in the dicky uniform I had to wear, not bothering to shower. Wrung my hair out on the balcony of my bedroom, under the eyes of yet another camera, tucked up under the drainpipe. I kicked at the rails of my balcony with my school shoes. I leant over the balcony rail that loomed over the patio and gazed at the sea. It glittered, as if beckoning me back. I licked its lingering taste from my cracked lips and paused to pick off a bit of skin. I went downstairs expecting Adam to have arrived, but he wasn’t there. ‘Where’s Adam?’ I asked Dad. He checked his watch. ‘Late.’ ‘I can walk to school…or catch the bus?’ I’d never been allowed, but I tried anyway. ‘Over my dead body,’ he snapped. His chest puffed up