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by Lucie Morales


  “Seeing you with Matthew; seeing that you actually had an interest in the boy flared his anger, which he had a problem controlling in the past, poor boy. Don’t sleep, my story is just about to get good.” I felt a tear down my left leg, which was still healing. My eyes bugged and I sat up, only bringing more pain. “Ah, ah, ah, it’s bad to move when you’re bleeding.” I lied back down and continued to stutter on my breath.

  “So, when you left to go stay with Matthew, Justan nearly went insane not seeing you. As you probably already know, he followed you. Until you came up with the brilliant idea to stay at Matthew’s house. Which I’m positive that you decided because that buffoon doesn’t have a brain cell strong enough to come up with an idea like that.

  “When you came back, your leg was broken; no doubt the buffoon’s fault,” he laughed slightly and all I wanted was Justan at the moment; so I began to cry, not knowing what else I could possibly do. “What’s the matter? Don’t like my pet names?” I shook my head.

  “Justan,” was all I could breathe out.

  “What about him? You don’t care about him.” I nodded my head; I did, I really did. “Then why were you kissing that idiot back there?”

  “Test.” Looks like we found another flaw. Blood began to pour out of my mouth. Oh shit, we’re dieing.

  “Of what? To see if there was anything there? Just like your pathetic mother. I want to see you writhe the way she did when she died; I want to watch the light leave your same eyes. This is what you both deserve for causing me and my son so much pain!” I tried to shake my head; tried to wrap my mind around that one word. Son?

  “That’s right. Justan is my son. I sure will enjoy watching him act so indifferent about your death, just like everyone else’s.”

  “Love.” I choked through all the blood.

  “You love him?” I tried to nod, but my head wouldn’t move. “You lying little bitch!” He began to stab me, over and over again. Through my screaming, I heard shocking things, such as: “You’re just like her! You hurt him, just like she hurt me!”, “She was just a little slut! Apple must not fall far from the tree!”, “You don’t deserve my son!”, or even, “You were going to pick Matthew over him; just like your mother picked Jareth over me!”

  My screams suddenly hit an octave that I wasn’t aware was possible; surprised that nobody was coming to my rescue; and I finally choked on one of those horrid screams before I couldn’t breathe altogether.

  The light on my eyelids that I had previously closed began to dim away, and it was all black soon enough. The immense pain was fading away. But no matter how dark it go, or how much my physical pain dissipated, the pain crushing my heart would not go away, and I couldn’t get the image of Justan out of my head.

  He was the last thing I saw -reminding me of the life I would never live with him -before I past away right there on the cold, hard, gritty, blood covered ground.

  Chapter 59

  Justan got out of his dark Mercedes with a smile. She had chosen him. Not Matt, him. She loved him. But when his eyes landed on a Lillith free restaurant, his smile and heart fell. Maybe he was wrong; she didn’t love him after all.

  “Excuse me,” he stopped a waiter as he passed. He had to have seen her. “Have you seen a beautiful young woman with hair about yay high?” His hand moved down toward his hip. He didn’t notice how he’d complimented her by calling her beautiful, or the fact that the waiter might see her differently; simply because it was nearly impossible to think of a woman who might be better looking than Lillith.

  “Yeah, she left just a little while ago, told me to hold her table for her.”

  “Did you see where she was headed?”

  “Somewhere with some guy.” Matt? he thought, I thought she picked me.

  “Don’t worry man, he seemed way too old for her; besides, I heard she was going to help the guy find a present for his kid.” Justan’s smile grew back and the waiter thought that maybe he was the person she was waiting for after all. Was she two timing him? Eh, wasn’t any of his business; so he kept that little bit of information to himself.

  “Over there is her seat. I guess she’s just being held up a little bit.” The waiter smiled politely at Justan, making him decided to give the kid a big tip before they left.

  Seeing a little box on the table that the waiter had pointed out for him, he examined it; his name was hanging out of the lid. So, he picked the little silver cube up and slowly opened it.

  It was just a simple golden chain, with a white gold dog tag on it. When it shimmered, words engraved in the necklace caught his eye.

  “My love.” His eyebrows knitted and he looked at the little paper tag with his name on it. “To: My love, Justan,” he read aloud, “From: Lillith.” The ‘From’ was crossed out and ‘Love Always’ was scribbled over it.

  Justan’s smile grew. She’d bought it for him; she did love him. Really, she did.

  When the chair across from him screeched, he looked up expectantly; only to be let down quickly.

  “Now son, don’t be like that. I’ve just done you a huge favor.” His dad smiled at him, causing his gut to wretch. He never smiled at him; not unless it was another one of those horrible things he did that he believed would make Justan happy.

  “What do you want?” Right at that moment, the same waiter boy was passing their table. He suddenly stopped and looked at Justan’s dad oddly.

  “What?” The older man barked.

  “Dad, don’t.”

  “Well, tell this little pipsqueak to quit looking at me! What do you want?”

  “Where’s that girl?” He seemed a little too confused. What girl? Justan thought curiously, was he talking about Lillith?

  “She had to go.”

  “Where?” Justan interrupted quickly. What had his monster of a father done now?

  “I’ll explain to you in a minute son,” he looked over to the confused bus boy, “Go on now, shoo.” With a slight glare, the kid was gone. He could just tell that that guy was bad news.

  “What did you do now?” Justan’s teeth grit together and he glared at his father.

  “Why in the world would I have done something wrong?”

  “Because you’re a murderous monster. Do you know how much pain you caused Lil?” The slight smirk on his father’s face made his stomach grow more uneasy; what had he done to Lillith?

  “That girl was a slut.” Was. The word didn’t slip by Justan. What had he meant by was?

  “Don’t you dare call her that!”

  “Well, what do you expect me to call her? After she sat and kissed that boy right here?!” Normally, Justan would have been furious at the fact she had kissed Matt, but they had talked about this. She was allowed to kiss him, as a goodbye; it meant nothing more.

  “I told her she could.”

  “What?”

  “I told her she could kiss him. Have a goodbye; make sure that she was making the right choice, that she would be happy.” His dad’s eyes bugged only slightly before he regained his composure; though his eyes deceived him, showing slight fear.

  What had he done that was so bad?

  “Oh.”

  “What - did - you - do.” Justan’s voice came out harsh and venomous. His question didn’t sound like a question, but more of an accusation.

  “I’ll see you at home, son.” He quickly got up , before Justan jumped up after him and grabbed the scruff of his collar; something daddy dearest himself had taught him.

  “Where is she?”

  “Trust me boy, you don’t want to know.” Justan’s grip tightened, nearly choking his elder. “Okay, okay, okay! I’ll show you! But you have to let go of me first boy!” Reluctantly, Justan let up on his father’s shirt, letting him lead the way through numerous deserted and filthy ally ways.

  When his father stopped; he hadn’t realized and nearly smashed right into his back. Leaving out of his subconscious mind; he nearly lost it. There she was; her beautiful sandy hair was matted all around her body wi
th a stomach churning sea of dark crimson. Her face was wet, seemingly from crying, her body disfigured by the multiple cuts and stab wounds all over her disgruntled body.

  “What did you do.” His words came out a lot quieter than he’d meant for them too, his question not inquiring at all; he knew what his father had done, and his knees were growing weak from the sight of it. Why though? Why would his own dad take his only happiness away from him?

  “I - I’m sorry.”

  “No. No, you’re not.” By then, he was on his knees, cradling Lillith’s bloodied head in his lap; he was hopelessly willing her to come back, for her body to suddenly spring to life. He wanted her to take a big gasp of air and laugh in his face, telling him it was all just a joke. He wanted to watch her eyes flutter open and share an ever longing kiss with her like they did in the movies.

  In his father’s eyes, he looked pitiful. Did he really care that much about her? Really love her that much? To reduce to that?

  “Softy.”

  “Go away.”

  “What?”

  “Get the hell away from here! You’ve gone too far!” Justan’s voice was now a roar. He was fuming. Maybe if her killer wasn’t present, he could somehow bring her back, he could somehow make her breathe again and take away all of the hideous markings that tainted her body.

  After he was sure his dad had fled, Justan moved his face closer to his love's and planted his lips onto her own. Maybe his life was just a fairytale that was being written at that moment, and the author had some sick, demented sense of humor that caused him to go through this; but they were just waiting for him to kiss her and awaken her from her everlasting sleep. But, no matter how fiercely his kissed the corpse, no matter how much he hugged her to his body, or how much he sobbed into her filthy hair, she didn’t come back, nor would she ever, he finally realized.

  He pulled out his cell phone once coming to this conclusion, and he dialed for an ambulance; although knowing deep down inside that she couldn’t be saved no matter what. No amount of medics would bring her back.

  When the ambulance finally arrived, he scowled at the way they worked so slowly; and quite literally growled at the nurse that tried to pry Lillith out of his arms. On the ride there, after a quite large argument about him holding her throughout the ride, Justan put his necklace on, and thought of how his life would be without her in it.

  He would be miserable.

  Suicide crossed his mind at that moment, but how would his mom feel? He couldn’t just leave her behind with that monster; he wouldn’t. He could move on … No. That was impossible.

  Just live. A voice chimed from the back of his mind. It sounded somewhat familiar … Yet, it was feminine.

  He’d do it. Just live one day at a time. But this time, he wouldn’t participate in anymore traditions.

  Not ever again.

  Epilogue

  It’s been nearly a month since Lillith had passed away, and Justan hadn’t been with one woman since. Hell, he barely even left his room.

  Matt had gone ballistic and nearly insane; when he found out he actually tried to kill himself. Daneese was distraught, always crying at the drop of a hat. And Tomas was finally put in jail. Justan just couldn’t do it this time; he had to tell on his father. When Tracie was killed, he kept quiet. When he beat the parents of the opposing kids so they’d give in, Justan kept his mouth shut. Even when Tomas killed Crystal, he didn’t breathe a word.

  But killing Lillith was going too far. His dad said she was cheating on him! What an idiot! If he would’ve talked to her, actually asked her about it, he would have known the truth.

  He tried to call, tried to apologize, but Justan refused it; just like he refused food, water, or sleep. Though eventually he had to take what was necessary; or at least what they forced on him; the food they forced and the water, even the sleeping pills they put into his meals.

  He couldn’t live without her; and his necklace reminded him of that every day. Her bags that he kept reminded him, everyday. He even kept the little silver box that came with the jewelry.. Why? Because he wanted more. More of her; things she touched, anything.

  He was so desperate even, that he refused to let Claireese clean the sheets they had made love on. He was going mad.

  “Mr. Justan, you have a guest.” That butler always creped him out, he wasn’t sure why, but he did. Tell them to go the hell away. He wanted so bad to say, but didn’t; he knew Lillith wouldn’t want him to be rude, especially not on her account.

  “Yeah, thanks.” He didn’t move, didn’t even try to wipe his tears away; he didn’t want company anyways, for Christ’s sake!

  “Justan, who did it?” With a sigh, he turned over. There, in his doorway, Jareth was; blood shot eyes, that were just like his; dark bags under said eyes, just like his; his clothes getting loose on his thin body, just as his own were.

  “Why would you care? It’s your damn fault anyways.”

  Before he could react, or even dodge, Justan was being held onto the floor by his neck.

  “I’m her father of course I care!” Jareth spat the word “course”, making dribble drop onto Justan’s face. His breath reeked of alcohol, and he smelt as if he hadn’t bathed in days.

  “No. You abused her, you have no rights.”

  “I still loved her.” He let up on Justan’s throat some with these words. Taking advantage of this, Justan shoved him off completely.

  “Tomas did it.” He saw that Jareth was about to say something, so he interjected. “He saw her kissing Matt goodbye and figured that she was cheating on me, so he killed her.” Just like he killed her mother, your wife; your love. He quickly shoved those thoughts from his mind, not wanting to think that the two of them had any similarities what-so-ever.

  “But how is it –“

  “Your fault? Why, that’s easy; because you didn’t tell me the truth!” Justan’s fist came out and echoed as it popped against Jareth’s jaw. “Because you let everyone believe that bullshit about getting to choose!” A pop sounded throughout the room once again. Again and again, Justan’s fist pounded into his lover’s father’s face.

  “You killed her! It’s all your fault!” He couldn’t stop himself, his fury was finally coming out.

  “Justan! Stop it! Justan!” He faintly felt his mother try to confine him, so he ceased his thrashing; he didn’t want to hurt her more than she’d already been.

  Jareth began to laugh while slowly standing up. He spoke through his busted lip, “You stupid boy,” he sounded as if cotton were wedged into his mouth, “it’s all your fault for not letting her just simply call like she’d asked you to.” Justan’s eyes widened before he realized it, he was right.

  His eyes drooping, he fell limp in his mother’s arms.

  Without another word, Jareth left the room. How he was going to cope with his daughter’s death, he wasn’t sure; though he wouldn’t doubt that he’d just done it by dropping the blame off on the boy. He was positive, though, that it was the boy’s fault for his father’s thoughts and actions. Justan also knew that he was right, it was his own fault, and he’d have to live with that for as long as he did live.

  “It’s okay sweetheart, it’s not your fault.” She was wrong, she was and they both knew it. Not knowing what to do, Justan began to cry, followed by his mother. They just sat there for God knows how long, crying.

  ** One Year Later **

  “Mom, what are you doing today?” Justan called up to his mom from the game room; the same room that started that wonderful night with Lillith.

  “Nothing dear, why?”

  “I just wanted to go see Lillith today.” The funeral was beautiful, nothing but the best for his beloved, and he stayed long after it was over; he just couldn’t let her go.

  “Alright sweetheart. We should probably wish her a happy birthday as well.” Another reason he wanted to go. Her birthday was a week before; she was 17.

  With a small smile, he got up and headed to his bedroom. While pulling his drawe
r open, something fell off the top of his dresser. Looking down, he saw a small box; odd.

  Bending down to pick it up, he instantly recognized it. He couldn’t stop staring as the memories of that day flooded his brain. He shot up quickly, eyes wide as he saw Lillith, her hair matted, her body mangled with those stabs, cuts, and scars. He shook his head, dismissing the thoughts he’d hidden away so well, for so long. He’d resolved with himself that he wouldn’t think of her that way, she’d always be that beautiful young woman in his mind; not the bloodied, mangled corpse.

 

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