Liar, Liar

Ashling Rixon is a compulsive liar. Always has been, always will be. Well, as far as she can remember, anyway. You'd think this would be a problem when it comes to work and everyday life, right Not quite.

Ashling is a hacker working against the government for her own agenda. Not to mention the fact that she has bad ass ninja skills and access to any and all weapons.Oh, and then there's the fact that she could kill you with her index finger. You probably shouldn't mess with her.

She on a quest to get her memories back, and she sure as hell is going to succeed.

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2. Chapter One

                My feet pounded against the muddy ground, the impact jarring through my body, and the sound echoing through the trees that surrounded me. My breath was coming in pants as I weaved through the woods, time ticking away as I ran.

                A sharp crack of a branch almost  directly behind me heightened my awareness of the proximity of my pursuer, and I forced my limbs to pump faster, increasing my speed. Suddenly my situation became so much more real as than it was before.  It was serious.

                I neared my destination , sweat glistening on my skin, and an overwhelming sense of relief flooded through me. Pushing my body to work faster, I closed the gap between me and the gate, ducking underi the low hanging branches and avoiding the roots that were placed, almost strategically, to trip me up.

                When I was meters away from salvation, the footsteps closed in and if I was able to breathe properly, I would have began to hyperventilate.

                The closer they got, the more my panic overtook the earlier relief I had felt.

                When they were nearly upon me I had only one thought in my head; Oh god, not again.

                And then he passed me, darting between the wrought-iron doors and slamming them shut behind him.

                I slowed my pace, in a futile attempt to not crash into the barrier, ending up slamming into the metal surface with much more force than I would have liked.

                "God damn it, Scott," I cursed between heavy breaths, rubbing my shoulder to try and alleviate some of the pain the gate had caused. "Do you have to do that every freaking time?"

                There was a scraping sound as he opened one of the doors before his head popped out of the gap.

                "If you mean let you win until the very last second, before slamming the gate shut and not leaving you enough time to stop properly, then no. I don't have to, it just happens to be something I enjoy. However, if you're asking me about my victory dance, then yes," he said whilst grinning, "Every freaking time."

                I smacked him around the head  as he broke out into the worst dance routine known to man.

                "Jerk."

                "You know it." he chuckled, winking at me.

                I snorted and walked away from him, his laughter echoing behind me.

                "Oh come on, Ash." he said, having jogged to catch up and walk by my side. "You love me really."

                I continued looking forwards, ignoring him as we strolled up the driveway to my uncle's house.

               "The silent treatment? Really?"

               When no answer came, Scott started poking me in the ribs, causing me to laugh.

               "Hey! No fair! You know I'm extremely ticklish! That, sir, is foul play." I said, batting his hands away.

               "Indeed it is, my fair lady. However not once was it stated that one must play fair." he replied easily, switching from his usual soft welsh accent to one that resembled the queen's.

               We walked in a comfortable silence for a few seconds, both of us knowing I had forgiven him, before he spoke again.

               "If it's any consolation, you've improved loads since last time.  It was way harder to overtake you."

               "Really?"

               "Yeah. A couple more practice sessions and you'll probably be able to beat me. That is providing you don't get distracted by my sexy body."

               He wiggled a little, as if to prove his point, but I just laughed and shoved him gently.

               "In all seriousness though, Ash, you are probably one of the best people I've ever run with."

               I grinned.

               "Thanks, Scott. It means a lot to me."

               And it did.

               A couple years back, Scott was recruited by Team GB to compete at the Olympics. In the short time he was with them, he competed in loads of the toughest competitions.

               He even won the London marathon. In short, he was the best long distance runner in the country and ranked in the top ten for the entire world.

               Of course, he then accidentally learned something he shouldn't have, forcing him into witness protection, meaning he never did get to go to the Olympics.

               Still, I was flattered that he thought that highly of me.

             "So, are you going back to yours once you've taken advantage of my awesome shower and got your stuff?" I asked him

             "Nah. Your uncle said I could stay the night as he wasn't going to be back 'till morning."

             "Terrible-movie-pizza-and-ice-cream-epic-sleep-party?"

             "Hells yeah!" he almost screamed before giving me a high five. 

             "You know, for a twenty two year old, you sure are childish." I told him, an eyebrow arched in judgement. He just stuck his tongue out at me.

             "Yeah? Well, for a seventeen year old, you sure are uptight!" he replied before running off, screaming that he was getting to the shower first.

             I just shook my head before entering the house and grabbing the phone.

             "Half pepperoni, half barbecue chicken?" I yelled up the stairs where I could hear the muffled sounds of a shower running.

             "You know it, baby sis!" was the response I got back.

             Scott isn't actually my brother, but he was as good as, and since he had always wanted a little sister, we had kind of adopted each other. 

             Ten minutes later the pizza was on its way, the ice cream had been brought up to my room (along with the DVD which was ready to go in the player) and I was jamming in my room to Taylor Swift. 

             I was just that cool.

             "Man, I love your shower!"

             My dancing session ceased as I turned around to see Scott standing in the door frame of my en-suite bathroom, water dripping down from his hair onto his fresh t-shirt.

             "I swear, sometimes I feel your just using me for the wonderful device that gushes warm water..." I teased, sighing dramatically.

             He fake gasped.

             "How dare you accuse me of such things? I would never be so shallow and superficial... It's your shower and your super comfy bed"

             To punctuate his words he flopped onto the midnight blue duvet covering my bed. 

             "I feel used." I sniffed.

             "You should be used to it now, Barbie."

             I glared at him, before throwing one of the bottles of water I had grabbed for us in the kitchen at his head.

             There was an immense feeling of satisfaction, seeing the bottle cartwheel through the air towards Scott's face. It was short-lived, though, as he managed to grab it before it made contact.

             I groaned as he smirked at me from across the room.

             "For god's sake! You know I hate that nickname!"

             "You dye your hair blonde, I call you Barbie. It's that simple."

             "I was tired of the red, okay?" I snapped at him, "Besides, what kind of Barbie is knows the precise spot in which you can stab someone's heart and sever their spinal cord at the same time?"

             I looked at him with raised eyebrows in the brief few seconds before his response, certain that I had got the last word for once.

             He pondered my question before saying; "Well, dear Ashling, that would be psychopath Barbie."

              My mouth dropped open and before I could form a coherent response, the doorbell rang.

             "You know the rules, Ash. The loser answers the door. " he said, a teasing look on his face.

             I stalked out the room, sending him a glare over my shoulder and mumbling creative forms of punishment under my breath.

                The pizza delivery guy stood there, looking shocked and scared at the same time, something that was probably caused by the murderous look I gave him when I opened the door.

                "How much?" I asked him, sending him a smile, in an attempt to show him I wasn't really that scary. Besides, my anger wasn't directed at him, but the insufferable doofus that was upstairs on my bed, most probably eating my ice-cream. Idiot.

                "Um... Nine ninety-nine." he replied stumbling over the words, as if astounded by my sudden change of attitude.

                "Awesome. Here, keep the change" I said as I pulled out some of the cash Uncle Mike left in the cat shaped cookie jar by the door.

                "This is fifty..."

                "Uh... Yeah. I can read numbers you know? Like I said, keep the change."

                "Thanks..." and with that he wondered back to his car, staring at the fifty pound note in his hand.

                Giving people huge tips was normal for me. Mike had put away a lot of money whilst working for the government, and when I turned up on the doorstep of his one bedroom bungalow, he decided to put it to good use.

                By 'good use' I mean he went out and brought a giant house in the middle of nowhere. But he hadn't spoilt me. There was no maid or butler, and I had to work around the house to earn my money. It's not like I could get a job, considering we were hiding.

                In fact, other than the whole job situation, the only difference between my life and that of  a normal seventeen year old, was that I had a tutor come to my house instead of going to school.

                My feet moved one in front of the other as I climbed up the stairs, and I contemplated my life.

                People said homeschooled kids were self absorbed and didn't know how to fit into society, was that true for me too?

                I didn't have any friends my own age, but that was because of the while hiding from the government, right? The fact that I had stayed hidden from the normal world for the majority of my life was something that had worried me frequently.

                I shook my head as I pushed open the door to my bedroom, trying to rid myself of my thoughts and I plonked down on the bed next to Scott. He seemed to notice that there was something off.

                "Hey, Ash. You okay? You're not still mad about the Barbie thing, are you?" he asked in a concerned tone.

                A small chuckle escaped my lips. We both knew I had never been mad at him for that.

                "No, no..." I trailed off before blurting, "Am I normal?"

                A bemused look flitted across his face.

                "What d'you mean by that?"

                "I meant what I said and I said what I meant." I quoted smoothly. Dr. Seuss is awesome, okay?

                "I'm lost."

                "Think about it Scott. I've lived in this house for, what, eight years now? The only times I go out , I train or run. And the life I had before doesn't even exist to me. I can't remember it. I can't remember school, or going shopping or even my own mother. What sort of person can't remember someone they lived with for nine years. The only examples i have of the real world are you and Uncle Mike. So, I'm asking you; Am. I. Normal? Do I act in a way that is socially acceptable, or I am just one big freak show?"

                "Oh, Ashling." he said, pulling me into a hug and wiping away a tear I had no memory of shedding, "You are perfectly normal. Just because you've lived a sheltered life doesn't mean you're some kind of abnormality. Sure most teenage girls prefer shoe shopping over learning hand to hand combat," This got a laugh from me, "But most teenage girls haven't gone through the same things you have. And, okay maybe you're a tad insane, but that's just you! I wouldn't have you any other way. You are perfect, just as you are, okay? Don't you ever think otherwise."

                As he was saying this, he pulled me out of his grip and took my face between his hands, staring into my eyes, as if daring me to say otherwise.

                I smiled before batting his hands away and giving him a quick hug.

                "Thanks big bro. I just wish I could have a normal teenage girl experience. Don't get me wrong, I love my life, but searching for shoes online just isn't the same as trawling through stores to find the perfect pair."

                I sighed.

                "Tell you what, I'll talk to Mike. See if we can get you that teen experience you're lusting after."

                "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I squealed before standing up with a serious expression. "You know what this calls for Scott?"

                "Oh no."

                "Oh yes. EVERYBODY DANCE NOW!" I yelled, grabbing the remote for my iPod dock off the coffee table and hitting play.

                "No! Don't make me!" Scott whined as I tried to pull him up from his position on my bed, "I'm too comfortable, and last time I danced with you I got hit in the face by a wayward limb"

                He stared at me accusingly, and I held up my hands in surrender.

                "Hey. Not my fault. I warned you I was going to cartwheel. You can't blame me if you didn't move fast enough. Oh, come on, Scott! Please!"

                "Give me one good reason why I should dance with you."

                "Pandas."

                "Pandas?"

                "Yes, Scotty-boy pandas." I sighed in exasperation.

                "How on earth are pandas a good reason to-"

                I cut him off.

                "Now you stop right there. Pandas are a good reason to do anything, and if you think otherwise I may just have to terminate this friendship."

                "Fine." he groaned as I dragged him off the bed.

                "Now, slave. I commandeth thee to dance!"

                He grinned at my insanity, before joining in.

 

*             *             *

               

                "I'm so sorry! I don't know what happened!"

                "I do. You kicked me in the face! A flip, Ash? Really?"

                I smiled sheepishly and pressed the ice to his swollen jaw, causing him to hiss in pain.

                "It's not my fault you interfered! I was perfectly fine just somersaulting through the air, but you just had to get involved."

                "Well, sorry if I was trying to prevent you from landing flat on your face!" he retorted

                I gasped in shock.

                "Are  you insinuating that my back flip was less than perfect?"

                "Why, yes. Yes I am."

                "Well, then. No ice for you!" I laughed pulling the bag off his face and sticking out my tongue.

                "Fine, I'll go get some from downstairs. Get the movie ready, 'kay?" he groaned, pushing himself off the bubble chair he had been sitting in.

                " 'Kay" I called back, dragging out the 'a' in a childish manner.

                "So what are we watching?" he asked when he got back with a new bag of ice pressed against the shadow of a bruise that was beginning to show up.

                I grinned evilly.

                "New Moon."

                "You realise we're supposed to watch movies that are terrible in an ironic way, not movies that are so bad they make me want to gouge my eyes out?" he asked apprehensively.

                "Well, I thought we could take the piss out of it. Or more precisely, mute it and make up the words,"

                "This is why I love you, baby sis." he laughed, ruffling my hair.

                "Hey!"  I yelled, smacking his hand away. "Don't touch the hair dude. It takes time to get it looking this awesome, you know. It doesn't just happen by itself."

                "Sure," he snorted, "You totally don't just roll out of bed every morning."

                "Exactly."

                "Whatever."

                Scott grabbed another piece of pizza and shoved it in his mouth.

                "So, when's the dragon coming." he asked, his voice coming out muffled through a mouthful of dough, tomato and cheese.

                I smacked his chest.

                "Don't talk with your mouthful, dude."

                He rolled his eyes. "Sorry, mum."

                "And she's coming tomorrow."

                "Ouch!"

                "I know, I'd much rather be doing target practice than," I shuddered, "trigonometry."

                "I still can't believe you can shoot a gun. And you know, pretty much everything else."

                "Well, believe it. Do you really want to test out my skills again?"

                He shook his head fervently.

                "Hell no. I'm doing that again."

                A grin spread across my features as I remembered when he found out about me and my Uncle. And the reason why I couldn't lie to him...

                

 

 

A/N
 

So this is a first draft and unedited, but I realised I hadn't updated in a long time. Sorry about that :/ I hope you like and and please don't forget to <3 it if you like it, and I always appreciate when you drop me a comment telling me what you think :)

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