Innocent Lies

By: J.W. Phillips


This book would have never made it to publication without the tremendous help from the following people.

Brina Brady, Kathleen Miller, and Rachael Orman

I want to give a special call out to a lady who gave me the courage to write and share my stories with the world. If it was not for her, my stories would forever be stuck in my computer. I was blessed the day I became friends with you.

Julia Matthews

You are the Yin to my Yang


When I was four years old, my daddy hung a tire swing under an old oak tree. He spent hours pushing me and telling me stories.

“Dylan, sweetie, you only get to be a child once. Dance, laugh, be happy, let the wind mess up your hair, get dirt under your fingernails. Because one day soon you’ll be older, life will get hard, and the one thing that will get you over the mountains is the magic of a happy childhood.”

I didn’t know that my daddy was capable of lying. The magic of my childhood was left out on that little tire swing, never to be found again.

Sunday, March 2, 2009

Most sixteen year old girls demanded the world. I didn’t care about designer clothes, never dreamed of owning a car, I would never had been invited to a sleepover. My one tranquility in a screwed up world was the quietness and peace of my little closet. They left me alone in there. I could dream of the day I would escape and finally find the magic of the world.

That was why I bounced straight up as light poured into the darkness.

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

I contemplated going shopping that morning. Who was I kidding? I was too poor to shop. I managed to get by on the part-time job I held at the student center and my overgenerous scholarship. But there was never any money left for extras.

“Ugh.” I flicked a pen in the air letting it fall on the papers scattered across the table. I had to start journaling my life for my Sociology class. My life story was not the kind of story I wanted to share. It was the reason I chose the University of Tennessee. It was six hours from my old life. I was a stranger there, just another overachieving, fresh face college student. No whispers, or rumors, no judgment, just me, Dylan Elizabeth Summers. So, I couldn’t figure out why the nightmares of what they did to me had returned. It had been four years since the attack.

Picking up a slice of pizza, I let it flop back on the plate. This crappy piece of pizza sure is not going to make anything feel better. It sucked, but it really didn’t surprise me, I was at the Pizza House after all. The home of slimy pizza, flat sodas, and the sweetest service.

I glanced up as a large group walked in and took over. They caught my eye . . . or in that case, one person in particular. After my experience, I could always spot a lawyer. That group had to be the most vivacious group of suits I had ever experienced. Especially him. Even with his back to me, there was something about him. He had on a bright pink, pinstriped dress shirt and designer pants. Not necessarily causal clothes, but not quite business attire either. He pushed his hip against the counter bringing attention to the tight, firm globes of his ass. I wanted to bite him. I swallowed noisily when that idea crossed my mind. The male species deathly scared me. Still, as impressive as his magnificent backside was, it wasn’t until he flipped around and I got a glimpse of his face that I almost slipped out of my chair.

I could only stare. Stunned. He pushed his blond, untrimmed hair off his forehead. He was the perfect mixture of a pretty boy and savagely handsome. I wiped a drop of drool off the corner of my mouth. His eyes caught mine. That was the point I normally look down at my feet. Not that time. That time our eyes connected. His expression altered, the impressive and authoritative shield he had going slipped for a mere second. His eyes grew hard with an unrelenting power that sucked the air from my lungs.

My cell started ringing, but I simply couldn’t look away. He shook his head, turned around, and started arguing with the clerk. His voice sort of rumbled throughout the building until it reached my ears.

A strange shiver of premonition rocked my body when I heard it. I hastily stuffed my belongings into my bag and started to leave. I looked back over my shoulder. He was leaning over the counter, supporting himself by his fist. I saw a tribal tattoo on his forearm peeking out from under his rolled-up shirtsleeve. His cold, harsh, brown eyes were staring straight at me. Immediately, I knew he was trouble. My life had been nothing but trouble. I didn’t need any more.

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