These Still Black Waters (Jess Lambert, #1)

by Christina McDonald

Children always seem to think their parents have all the answers, like we are omniscient or something. But I don’t know what’s happened, and I tell her so.

They’ll think we’re voyeuristic, that we’re meddlesome and coldhearted.

Yet the same isn’t said for us when we’re on social media?

poured orange juice over my bowl of Rice Krispies and took it to my bedroom to read the news while Tweety chirped in the background. Most people prefer milk, but I am not most people. It’s a treat I allow myself each morning.

What 🫣

“They pity you,” I tell myself silently as I grab a drink and make my way to my usual booth at the back.

Says who ,

But Bee had the easy confidence that came with not having a lot of parental input.

They saddle you with obligations you never accepted in the first place.

Going back to Mac isn’t an option I deserve, and so I hang up, tears tracking rivers down my cheeks.

Says who?

I lean on my cane and check my sobriety, standing on one leg for thirty seconds. I don’t hop or sway, so I climb back on my motorcycle and return to town.

Does she think this makes her actions valid ?

Life is just a game of choice, after all. Every one of us has the potential for great good and great wrong, but those who make the wrong choices usually pay somewhere down the line. Because sooner or later, the past always comes for you.

Ain’t that the truth

We prefer pretty pictures to reality. And so we pull on a cloak of civility and we hide behind the versions of ourselves we want the world to see.

100%

That’s when I knew. Nothing would ever be the same between us again. And it was all Bee’s fault. I was going to fucking kill her. Bad people deserve bad things. Bee deserved bad things.

But then, most people go through life with their eyes shut.

ignorance is bliss babe

Summer friends aren’t real friends.”

“Yes, but it’s just a part, right? It’s not all of you. Bad people. Good people. It isn’t that simple. None of us is just one or the other. We’re both.

Sometimes we want something so much, we imagine it rather than facing the truth.

This surprises me. Why did he never say? All this time, I’ve been keeping this secret, it’s been eating at me, and he knew?

It was YOUR secret to tell. Why should he confront you? So you can lie about it to protect it?

This guilt . . . you’ve gotta find somewhere to put it.

It must be released

But one thing I’ve learned is if you’re always looking outside yourself to be rescued, you’re going to be waiting an awfully long time. No one can rescue you except you.

the hell do I know what’s possible or not? Just because I haven’t seen something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.

I just wasn’t making a choice, but not making a choice is still a choice. And when you decide something, you also end something. Cide means “to kill” in Latin, after all.