Lie to Me

Chapter 2: Believe In Me

The snow kept falling that winter, soft, heavy, and endless as it did every year, yet I couldn’t help but stare as I relived my childhood memories. I watched it drift down from the gray sky, covering everything outside in a blanket of white. But beneath that calm surface, something strange was starting to happen.

It began with little things, faint shadows flickering at the edge of my vision, like a movement I couldn’t quite catch. I’d be walking down the hall, lost in my thoughts, and out of the corner of my eye, I’d see someone. A figure, just beyond my sight. When I turned to look directly, there was only emptiness, nothing but the quiet, still house.

I told myself it was just my mind. Maybe the grief over him leaving without knowing the truth was still eating away at me. My mind was playing tricks, or maybe the cold was messing with my eyes. That’s what I kept telling myself, as if convincing my brain it wasn’t real would make it go away.

But then came the whispers.

Soft, almost like breath against my skin, faint words I couldn’t quite understand. Sometimes when I’m sitting alone, staring out at the snowstorm, I’d feel it. the sensation, like a breath against my ear, whispering my name softly, so close I could almost feel it. I’d shiver, trying to catch the words, but they’d vanish the moment I moved. Just gone, like a flicker of warmth in the cold.

My heart would race, skin prickling with goosebumps. I’d turn sharply, expecting to see him there, smiling or teasing, but only silence. Only the cold, empty room and the snow falling outside.

One night, I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in the quiet. The snow was still falling outside, muffling everything into a peaceful hush. I closed my eyes, trying to forget the strange shadows, the whispers, the feelings I couldn’t explain.

Then I felt it.

A gentle touch—soft, warm, like the faint press of lips against my cheek. My eyes snapped open. My heart pounded so loud I thought it might burst. For a second, I froze, staring into the darkness, trying to understand what just happened.

Was it just the cold? My imagination? Or something else?

I reached up instinctively, feeling my cheek as if I could still feel that faint, warm contact. Nothing there. Only the cold air and the quiet hum of the house settling around me.

My breath hitched. I told myself it was just the cold, just my mind playing tricks. But deep down, I knew it wasn’t. It felt so real—so close that my skin still tingled from it.

I lay back down, trembling, my heart pounding in my chest. The snow outside kept falling, endless and silent. And I wondered—was I really alone? Or was something just beyond my reach, waiting quietly?

That night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about that faint, warm feeling on my cheek. “Maybe I’m everyone’s right, I have gone crazy” I sighed aloud to myself sinking into my pillow as I tried to forget my own insanity.

In the morning I got ready for school and all the scrutiny that came with it, but I was used to it. Even my teachers seemed to pity me for always being distracted by the snow outside, but him. They had all known Jace, this is a small town and nothing stays secret for long. I hadn’t taken it well when he left, anyone could see how close we were and everything around this small town reminded me of us, our friendship, and his last days here before moving away.

—————

After school, I couldn’t take the teasing anymore. The whispers behind my back, the sideways glances, the cruel jokes, they all felt like weights pressing down on my chest. I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets and took off, heading straight for the woods near the river. No one followed, no one wanted to see the girl who was “crazy” or “obsessed.”

The trees here were tall and ancient, their branches coated in frost that sparkled like glass in the fading light. I reached out and ran my fingers along the rough bark of a tree I used to climb as a kid. The familiar ridges and grooves brought back memories. Climbing higher and higher, feeling the cold winter air on my face, the thrill of standing above the world. I closed my eyes for a moment, breathing in the sharp scent of winter flowers, jasmine and some kind of winter-blooming shrub, still lingering in the cold air.

It was quiet here…so peaceful, so distant from everything back home. I could almost hear the faint echo of our childhood laughter, the way Jace’s voice used to sound when he teased me about losing my gloves again. I pressed my hand against the bark, feeling the roughness beneath my fingertips, wishing I could go back to those simpler times.

But as the daylight faded, the sky above opened up into a vast canvas of stars, bright, cold, and endless. I slowed my steps, staring up at the glittering sky, trying to breathe. The stillness was soothing, even if it made my chest ache with loneliness.

That’s when I heard it.

Clear as if someone was standing right beside me.

“It’s just as beautiful as I remember it,” a soft, familiar voice whispered.

My body jerked, and my head snapped around. I looked into the shadows, expecting to see someone—anyone. But there was only the silent, snow-laden trees. I was sure I’d heard someone, though—I could almost feel them close.

My heart hammered in my chest. I reached out instinctively, my fingers trembling, and slid my hand down the rough bark of the nearest tree. I closed my eyes, trying to hold onto the feeling. The cool texture beneath my fingertips, the cold air filling my lungs. The scent of winter flowers was faint but still present, a comforting reminder of days long gone.

“Who’s there?” I whispered again, voice barely audible. My voice sounded so small, so uncertain.

Silence.

Then came the moment I’d remember forever. I felt it, something subtle but undeniable. A gentle pressure against my arm, like a hand sliding slowly down, warm and steady. I didn’t dare open my eyes. I didn’t want to ruin it.

The voice was back, softer now, just a whisper. “You’re not imagining me,” it said, almost like a promise.

I froze, caught between disbelief and hope. My skin tingled, and I could feel the faint warmth of his touch, even if no one else could see it. I clenched my jaw, afraid to move, afraid to breathe too loudly. I wanted to believe, but part of me was terrified to hope too much.

The wind rustled the trees around me, carrying the faint scent of winter blooms. I listened—trying to hold onto the sound of that voice, to the feeling of the hand sliding down my arm. I felt it, warm, gentle, reassuring. I didn’t dare open my eyes, afraid that if I did, it might all vanish.

For a long moment, I stood there, trembling, clutching at the fleeting warmth. The stars above twinkled silently, untouched by all my fears. And I wondered—was he really close? Or was this just my mind, playing tricks again?

I didn’t know. But in that quiet winter night, surrounded by the cold and the dark, I let myself believe…just for a little while, that maybe, somehow, I wasn’t alone.

The wind whispered through the trees, and I felt that faint, warm touch against my arm again. I didn’t dare open my eyes. Instead, I softly asked, voice trembling, “Who are you?”

There was a pause, just the sound of the wind and then I heard it: a familiar, gentle voice, sliding into my ear as if he was right there beside me.

“You don’t remember me, Clara?” he teased softly, almost playfully. “It’s Jace Fallman. Your best friend since we could crawl,” he whispered, the words like a secret meant just for me.

My breath hitched. My eyes fluttered open, but I couldn’t see him—only the quiet darkness and the stars overhead. I wanted to believe it. I wanted so badly to believe this was real, that I wasn’t losing my mind.

He was close. Too close.

I wanted to reach out, to touch him, to hold onto this moment, but I was afraid to move. Instead, I whispered, voice trembling, “You’re back.”

There was a soft smile in his voice when he answered. “I promised I’d visit, though I guess I’m seven years late,” he teased, his words drifting into my ear like a gentle caress.

I shivered, caught between hope and disbelief. His words felt like a balm against the ache inside me. I could almost feel his hands—warm, gentle—as they ran through my hair.

“Can I hug you?” I asked quietly, my voice almost a whisper.

He chuckled softly, a sound I remembered so well. “I’m not much of a hugger anymore,” he teased, but there was a tenderness in his tone.

I hesitated, then slowly reached out, my arms trembling. I didn’t want to wake up from this, didn’t want to let go of the feeling of him being near. And even if it was just my mind, even if it was a dream—I didn’t care. I needed this.

I closed my eyes again, feeling the faint warmth of his touch, the whisper of his voice, and the scent of winter flowers lingering in the cold air.

For a moment, I just stood there, shivering, clutching at the fleeting warmth, trying to hold onto the lie…hoping that somehow, this was real.