BreakEven (1# BreakEven Saga) short story

So sorry it has been so long since I’ve posted something, it has been a pretty busy month what with the holidays and I know, I know it’s no excuse plenty of people still found the time to post multiple items per yet I couldn’t even produce one! Very lazy of me, yes? Well too bad! Some people are better at managing their time than others… so there. No but really I apologize so in turn I have come up with a story that just thrashed its way into my imagination and I hope you all enjoy and will kindly leave some sort of remark on something that you like or if it lacked something. This would really help me because I can’t really judge for myself whether it’s good or bad. So, it would really mean a lot to me.


This story was inspired by an awesome song called “Breakeven” by The Script. Summary: A man will do anything to keep his love happy, satisfied, pleased. Promises are kept- held fastly to his breast, but is there such thing as obsession? Is there such a thing called “Too Much Love”? Dam finds himself struggling with the reality of his once beloved Anya\’s moving on, romantically, to another man, named Stan… He wants- even feels it as a need- to have her back, and goes through torturous memories only to be swayed by his friend- a man who may indeed have a questionable past himself- who suggest the only solution to a fair break. Murder.

Spinning… twirling, skins touching, laughs breaking through massive ranges of natural silence forced in to a wheat field in the middle of spring time.

Dancing waist, clasping fingers, locking lips, and desperate hands play across bare flesh exposed not so accidently than you might think; and we laugh heartily, at nothing at all.

Lustful stares, and daring kisses hissed into one another’s ear.

“We’re alone, Dam.”  she says; so soothingly- she pulls me close.

A smile in to her ear with a breath of nothing but lust in the mist.

“Are you daring me, Anya Deaucate?” I countered with my own dare.

And the sweetest of  giggles splay from her cherry kissed lips as she holds me closer in her warm, smooth embrace that one man could only dream of in sin and never mind the comeuppance he would later receive for it.

“If it were, would you play?” she drew me with a growl.

Oh, she was a daring one, Anya was. She dared my heart on several occasions, sometimes with trinkets, sometimes with sex, but she never dared to leave me. She loved me.

Past tense was never my favorite.

It is a vile attempt to rekindle a past that was never meant to play any part in your future. The past is full of pains and mistakes that forever bombard your imagination and conscience. Forever… and forever is a long time, for I remember events like these daily- hourly at the most, and it gives me a headache in more than one form, mind you.

But she was my one, that laugh- the one I miss so dearly it hurts my heart to even think of it, and I think of it every day- that laugh that played thievery in my ear and those hands that had done me pleasure with just a caress upon my cheek, and a kiss on my lips.

I love her.

Present tense; and that will never change, mind you. She is my addiction; my forever mi amore.

So, I will ask you one question: If this woman broke your heart, left you for another man, and never so much as turned around and said she was sorry- said that she sympathized with you; that she felt the same way as you, but it would never work and it pained her to say so; if this woman stood by with a smile on her face and held another man close to her side- let him kiss her!- with his filthy, crusty, sap sucking lips; wouldn’t you kill him too?

With an angel’s laugh playing and replaying in your conscience… as you watched the only love you’ll ever know let her body close to another’s in love’s embrace; she is happy-  and that, in itself, should have been enough, no?- she is happy with this man, and she feels nothing for you. And it is your fault.

Who do you blame?

Do you blame a God you never believed in?

A man you have never met whom takes greedy pleasures in running his hands all over your love?

Allah, then of course, no?

Who is to blame!

The rosy cheeked dame, whose long silver hair and eyes the color of a bleeding Violet, mocked you in your dreams every single night?

“Dam,” she whispered me as she lie in my arms; her skin touching mine- this being no accident- and her hair lay as a blanket upon us, tickling my chest and face, “if I ever left you, would you come after me?”

“Yes, I would.” And then, “why do you ask me this?” my heart fluttered at the very mention of her even hinting at wanting to leave me.

“Hypothetical reasons, nothing more.” She utters, “I would never leave you, you know that.”

And I believed her.

“And I would never let you go.” I said to her.

She never knew how true that statement would be.

Is it love? Or a Disaster in disguise?

“I never said I was cheating on you, Dam.” She explained. At this point she had been talking, and talking; no action of course, just that blasted talking! “I never, ever cheated on you…”

“…until recently.” I finished for her.

“But until then I had never done it!” she impressed.

She sat across from me in a diner we found ourselves going to for “important talks” every… single time. I loathed this diner, very much so that I now hate it to this day. Her body was awkwardly adorned in what is called a “Boyfriend shirt”, which is ironic now particularly because I had no idea who her boyfriend was or if she even had one and why she would possibly want to wear one during a break up session was beyong even my comprehension. Her eyes were raised above her cheek bones by bags, which indicated either a sleepless night due to our break up… or other, rather, productive occupations. Her hair blonde- silver hair was tied into a messy bun and she didn’t bother to raise the glasses that sat low on the bridge of her nose.

I leaned over, suddenly to her, and pushed them gently upward for her. She was taken aback only for a moment before the glasses slid back down at the same time she suited herself, as if indicating that she was now calmed down to her normal state just by the sliding of her glasses.

“You’re obviously leaving me,” I stated plainly, “why should it matter whether you cheated on me now or then?”

She scowled lightly at me: “Don’t be so sour, Dam.” And yanked her gaze away from mine, which was evenly placed on her, impenetrably.

“Sour is for grumpy old men who’ve stubbed their gout toe against the coffee table.” I countered. “ No, I’m pissed…and…horrified. Who is this guy?”

She sat back in her glossy red booth and folded her arms defiantly over her chest; the chest that rose and fell with ever intake sweet oxygen.

“What’s it to you?” she countered back.

I raised my hands in surrender: “No. Forget him. What happened to us?” I gestured between she and I.

Her arms slowly unfolded and her countenance shifted from that of someone who was angry to someone who felt nothing.

“We grew apart-“

“You… grew apart. From me.” I corrected.

“I don’t have time for this,” she began to stand and so did I, “I have to go meet Stan-“

“Stan is it?” I returned quickly, “Couldn’t find a guy with a spicier name?”

She gauffed: “What, like Dam?”

I winked at her.

She gasped a laugh and shook her head.

“You…” she wagged her finger at me, “you are- “

“Not letting you go.” I finished for her.

Her finger dropped as did her expression and she hoisted up a rather large pocketbook that looked as if it weighed half a ton.

“-impossible.” She turned to leave but I took her hand in mine. She looked at it as if it were covered with germs and spittle.

“I can’t let you go.” I told her again.

She stopped glaring at our hands and held my gaze with a neutral look.

“You don’t have a choice.”

“And what if I did?”

She was taken aback by my response.

“What if I didn’t want you to throw away four years of magic? Four years of this miraculous thing we have together.”

She took her hand out of mine and began stepping backwards toward the door.

She shook her head: “Had, Dam.” And she turned away and toward the door; opening it swiftly before exiting without even a good bye.

One month later… And a hernia

“Dam!-Jesus will you- no don’t throw that!”

But of course it was too late, I had already thrown his “Velvet Rope” album out the window.

“Bastard! You could have at least thrown it on the bed.” He scratched his head. “She still not talking to you.”

“Argh!” A chair went out the window subsequently.

“I take that as a no.”

I turned to him, my face was dripping with salty sweat from my… eh… heated activity.

“She won’t even text me.” I told him. “Or Poke me on Facebook for that matter!”

He squinted at me: “Dude, nobody Pokes anymore.”

I was pacing and even that had been stopped by the then and very sudden and blasphemous words that had escaped his mouth.



I wiped the sweat from my forehead and lip and dropped myself on Cray’s bed. This young fellow  has beenby my side since even before Anya so that i now consider him my best friend. He is twenty-three years old and still lives with his mother which, in term, has left him alone without any such handsom suiters coming and going at all hours of the night such likes your modern bachelor. But, he is a good fellow- trustworthy, and kind; he has done very much for me, which is why i knew he would forgive me for throwing his items out the window.

“Dam, I may- may not be in, you know, the right position to say this, but you need to get layed-“

“No!” I shouted before he could finish his sentence.

Cray shrugged his bulky shoulders: “It was an option.” I glared at him, “I was obviously kidding.” he added.

I gaped out a sarcastic laugh and searched his room for some other pointless artifice of his I could throw out the window.

“H-hey stop that!” Cray demanded, “You are not throwing anything else out the window.”

And I started to cry, which is when Cray threw his hands in the air.

“Dam, I think she really is ready to move on. You can’t force her to take you back, it won’t work. Stop trying.”

I shook my head: “No, no I can’t do that… I told her I would never let her go.”

He clapped a burly hand on my shoulder : “I think it’s about time you have…”

I continued to shake my head.

“Cray, you know what this feels like.” I quietly stated, knowing that there was nothing but plain truth in my words.

He released my shoulder and dropped himself down heavily on the bed next to me.

“Yes.” Was all he said.

“So don’t stop me.”

He looked at me, but said nothing. His grey eyes had gone dim and his body seemed smaller than its usual largeness. He was thinking about Raven; a girl who long ago had broken his heart to be with her best friend, who was a girl. Pity, she was adorably subtle and charismatic when the need arose, quite the toy as well, at least that was what Cray had told me.

I yanked out my phone while Cray tortured himself with reveries and dialed Anya’s number.

It rang: one, two, three, four- an answer!

“What, Dam?” she said tiredly, there was a lot of indifference in her tone, as well as malice.

“H-how are you?”

“You don’t really want to know that do you?”

She was right, I could care less. What I really wanted to know was where Stan was and if he was at a small enough size for me to throw him out Cray’s window without throwing my back out.

“I-I do, really.”

“You’re lying, Dam.”

“How would you know that!”


Then a sigh.

“You stutter when you lie.”

I could feel my cheeks heat up.

“Have I always done that?”


“And you’re just now telling me this why?”

I could hear her shrugging her smooth shoulders.

“Didn’t seem relevant at the time.” She said.

“Right. Anyway, where are you?”

“Uh… if I tell you that-“

“Never mind.”

“You don’t even-“

“Yeah I do.”

“Then why did you ask-“

“Because I am really bored and tortured and I wanted to hear your voice.” I told her quickly, “I miss you, Anya.”

Silence again.

I could feel the tension on her; hear it through the slightly bothered signal.



“Stop calling me,” she said, “it annoys Stan.”

I mimicked the name Stan silently with what had to have been a very dramatically over produced facial expression.

“I don’t care about Stan.” I quietly told her.


The line started crackling.

“I-I don’t care about Stan!” I practically yelled.

“I can’t hear you your phone is breaking up.” she nearly shouted into the receiver

I exhaled heavily.

“Stan can kiss my ass!” I bellowed before hanging up. “Goddamn cell phone service!” I hissed as I threw my cell down on Cray’s bed.

Cray looked from me to the cellphone to me again.

“Okay, now how come you didn’t throw that out the window?”

Two months later… And absolute insanities commence

Psychology could tell you that any man in love would do anything for his beloved. This is not an overstatement, an hyperbole, or an exaggeration.

I would have killed for Anya, and served that lifetime in prison if it meant seeing her every day; feeling her skin on my cheek, my back, my neck- my arm. Her lips…

Her Violet eyes on mine alone, a gaze that was only meant for my own.

“Dam, I- I can’t believe you did this, for me.” She is mesmerized by the garden house I had built for her myself in her small but comfy backyard. “This is so beautiful- but it must have cost you a fortune.”

I smile at her and shake my head, taking her hand- her softly slightly jittering hand- in mine; leading her slowly into a greenhouse filled with Rhododendrons, Lilies, Oleander, Birds Of Paradise, Tulips. Yet there was not a Rose in sight.

“No Roses?” she asked me curiously.

“Why? Such an odd question coming from the Rose herself.” I return her.

And she smiles at me, with red lips and bright eyes. She grasps my hand more tightly; with love- nothing but love traveling through her fingertips to mine, and into my heart, forever warming it as it beats.

Now… Now I walk along these streets alone, watching couples ogling at one another, and do they truly love each other? Would they stay?

A lovely Brunette strolls by me; she is alone as well, and she seems so busy with herself- chattering on her little cellphone- swaying her hips as if she dares the first young fellow that spots her to come to her; come speak to the pretty dame mocking you this very instant.

Then she does something I had not expected. She turned around once- oh!-she double takes and her eye catches mine. She was, truthfully, very pretty, yet I could not have cared less. She smiled a neutral smile at me, seeing my gaze on her just the same- only in different degrees of course- and she turns back, reluctantly, and continues on her mysterious journey down the noisy sidewalk by the busy streets.

I assure you if a heavenly light had shone upon her I would have missed it. Not even God’s most Angelic broad could distract me from the one I truly wanted. Truly loved, and needed.

Suddenly a shoulder crashes against mine from behind.

“I’m sorry.” The silvery blonde muttered to me.

A man following behind her like a dog turns around to me with his hands in the air gesturing something that I suppose was supposed to have been some bodily apology.

“Sorry, man, she’s rather in a hurry.” He smiles kindly.

And I know right away who this dismal walking disaster is.

“Anya.” I said in a low, rather pitifully cloaked hurt tone.

She heard me, surprisingly, and turned around. Hanging up her phone without so much as a TTYL to her recipient.

“Dam…” I saw her lips form. Then she did something I had not expected. She smiled. “Dam! This is Stan!”

She tossed her phone into that giant bulk of fabric she calls a purse and leans almost all of her weight on to Stan’s skinny little arm.

“Wow! It’s been awhile.” She said excitedly. I looked about her to see if there was some subtle hint of satire in her tone. There was not.

I shrugged.

“Yeah… well, you told me never to call you again.” I reminded her halfheartedly.

Her smile only faltered a hint before she caught and held it, fiercely.

“Wait,” Stan finally breaks in, uninvited, mind you, “you’re Dam? The Dam?” he did a quick swipe of palm against his trousers before presenting it to me for a handshake.

But why would I take his hand?

“Yes,” I told him slowly, ignoring his outstretched hand, “I am

The Dam as you put it.”

He cleverly took his hand back and ran his fingers through his hair with the hand that would have graced the presence of my right hand: “Right,” he said, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

My eyebrows rose automatically to this: “Really now?” I wondered, “What has she told you?”

“Oh- well, she-“

“Dam, what brings you out on this fine day?” The way was particularly cloaked with dark gray clouds and a sprinkling atmosphere, just so you know.

“A walk,” I blatantly told her. I very much wanted to hold her hand, though. And I wanted to tell her this. I wanted to shove Stan away from her and kick him into the streets. “never can get too much exorcise.”

She nodded, indifferently, but with that ingenuous smile still plastered on her face: “Right, yes. Never enough…” she looked off into a random direction. She was uncomfortable. And that, somehow, made me a little more comfortable. “Stan, darling, tell him the news.” She suddenly broke a much more genuine smile. One that I remember dearly. One that at more than one occasion was focused on me, followed by her body hugging my arm, like she was doing now… with Stan.

“What news?” I dumbly asked.

“Ah!- yes! The news.” He looked at her uncertainly. Then, with a subtle nod of her head he straightened into a surer position. “Yes, Anya and I are to be married!”

Somehow I managed to choke off of nothing: “Really!” I bellowed, “Fantastic!”

And seeing as how I was choking I couldn’t bring myself to say another word. So, I did what any sane man in his mid twenties would do; I turned around and ran.

And quite impressively quick, if I might add.


I cannot remember how I got to this place, only that I was with my mother’s friend, Vain- I think his name was- though I can’t see how I could forget him, after all, he will later play a large role in this story.

I had run for some time after hearing such “fantastic news”. I know I was out of breath, and…crying- sobbing for use of a better word. No one loves a sugar-coater.

“Dam, my boy! What brings you here-“ Vain, oh  Vain, he is a sweet old man, of, possibly, sixty-two, and I’ve gone to him on more than one occasion to ask this well-seasoned man for romantic advise. He had never failed me. Which leads me, now, to believe that he was the one who our love together; like glue holding the Ming vase together. Vain now sees a bothered young man sobbing his eyes out in what is now a dreadfully wet evening. He quickly glanced about the grounds around his warehouse and tucked me under his wing into a dryer yet even darker interior.

There are no lights on in this room, I see nothing- hear nothing except my own ragged breaths and his calm one. I can feel the thick layers of dust floating about the room kiss my skin, my face and arms, as he leads me through a black maze.

“Dam,” I heard him say in the dark, “what has happened to you?”

I sniffle like a fool in answer to him.

“It is not Anya?” he wonders aloud.

Suddenly a single light comes on and I see an old square table that I could describe as being used for various card games or tentative discussion.

He sat me down gently in a rickety chair and sat himself down across the table from me in a similar one.

“Speak to me, Dam.”

But I couldn’t. My head was spinning and my stomach felt…. Indescribable: my stomach fluttered with violent butterflies; my head obscured my vision with dizziness and nausea; it was… hot, claustrophobically hot; I was sweating nearly uncontrollably.

I shook my head.

Vain leaned back into his chair, rubbing the thin stubble of graying beard on his chin.

“She left you.”

I scoffed soundly: “Well obviously!”

He raised his hand to calm me.

“Speak to me,” he slowly uttered, “don’t punish me.”

I fingered my hair, nearly pulling it clean out of the roots on my scalp, and I rocked- slightly on the chair; hearing it scringe, scringe, scringe.

“I didn’t think it would be this hard…” I said, “I didn’t think it would hurt this much.”

He watched me distantly with knowing eyes- eyes that burned with something I had never seen before. I had known Vain to be a calm, peaceful man. My mother had met him at one of her AAI meetings, twenty years ago. While she, herself, is only forty now; this old man had played quite a game over her eyes, she could not part with him since.

“Vain?” his foot was tapping rapidly on the dusty stone floors.

Then a sudden focus came into his eye; the fire extinguished.

He let out an exhausted sigh and flung his hairy, mass-tamed arms into the air.

“It is supposed to hurt, Dam,” he said, and then, with more sorrow in his voice I know he never meant to reflect me, “it always hurts…it never goes away.”

We sat silently across from one another in two rickety chairs in front of an old poker table. I heard his foot, the Tap, Tap, Tapping of an honest man’s nervous foot as he played with his oddly shrill fingers.

“She was not supposed to find him, Vain.” I suddenly said, “I can’t be the only one left to suffer.”

His gaze snapped back to me: “Who says she is not suffering?”

“Have you seen her Facebook?” I practically shouted.

Vain only sat there, looking confused, and amused.

He smiled: “Facebook is where storytellers bread with their imaginations, Dam,” he quietly said.

I ran my fingers, once again, through my now damp, dark locks, and let my foot force my chair back on to its two back legs.

“The point is,” I explained slowly, “that she is happy, with him… in her arms!” I dropped my feet and slapped my hands on the table; feeling the prickling sting of the impact from the wooden surface against my palm and fingertips.

Vain sat still across from me; his soundless foot no longer tapping, and yet a smile continued to play across his face.

“Then, my friend, you break your heart in two,” he said, “and give her half- give her half of your broken heart. And you will be even.”

My gaze rose to his after first examining my burning, red palms: “And how,” I defiantly asked him, “do you suppose I do that, Vain?”

He looked at me as I had asked the dumbest of questions.

“Break her heat-“ he stood, “-kill Jamberee.”

“Hi-his name is, Stan, Vain.” I corrected him.


I dropped myself into the chair shoved slightly further behind me than before, and stared into nothingness; not believing what Vain had just suggested.

“And I can’t do that?” I told him after some time of impenetrable silence, “Wo-would you do it.”

He looked at me sternly, unwaveringly: “I have done it,” he said, “but do I regret it?” he gradually lowered himself back into his chair, obviously removed from his sudden spur- of- the-moment hype, “I don’t.”

We watched each other intently; playing lost reveries for one another in each other’s eyes.

Vain had never told me of his own past loves, and I wondered if this was reason why.

My mother’s best friend was a murderer.

He cleared his throat: “Dam, have you… ever wondered why I hardly- if ever- see your mother?”

I shook my head.

He nodded curtly: “Good.” He stood again, “lead the way, Dam.” He gestured at the door.

“I-I can’t do it, Vain.” Though, I knew I was lying to myself. I could kill Stan, I wanted to kill Stan. Stan took everything from me. Stan… was Stan.

“You’re lying to me.” He stated.

I sighed exasperatedly: “I know, I know. It’s the stuttering.”

“Not likely, the lie is in your eyes.”

I stood with him: “If I do this,” I reluctantly asked him, “will she take me back?”

He smiled a pitying smile: “if a woman killed your love in the hopes of your falling back into love with her,” he said, “would you take her back?”

I yanked my gaze away from his.

Why did he want me to do this?- you must want to know.

Because: a heart breaks evenly, one cannot feel pain without the other feeling it too.

But could I risk her never speaking to me again, just so she would feel the same pain I felt?

No, no I have to admit I could not. Not now, anyways. But then, I would have done anything to make her suffer like I had suffered; to make her feel those violent butterflies every time she saw me like I did for her.

Stan was in the way; Stan was my barrier; Stan kept her from me.

Stan needed to go.

“What do I get out of this?” I whispered to the dusty air around me.

“Satisfaction.” He simply answered.

But would it satisfy me?


Silver Tears (1# Lost Lover’s Quarrel)

Aadil is a young New Yorkian with a life he is content with having the love of his life, Isabelle, of three years and his best friend, Kai, of fifteen years by his side. Kai is the older sister of Isabelle and has been keeping a secret from both of them for fifteen years. Kai is then torn between her bestfriend and her sister, Isabelle, when she decides to break up with Aadil and go back to her ex and wants her sister, Kai, to break up with Aadil for her.

(Inspired by a song called “The man that cant be moved” by The Script)

Three years its been since I started dating this amazing girl. Her name is Isabelle. She’s eighteen and one fine full beauty of 5’7, long legged- blonde haired poetry. Her skin has a beautiful soft paleness to it and her are eyes the color of emerald gems.

I forget sometimes that she is mine; forget because she’s just totally beyond my league. She’s a pro in all things: art, music, writing. Shes written some impressive stories and poetry yet she claims she only does it for fun and would never sell her works.

She’s humble that way, yet I wonder if she has ever had her eye on someone else. The thought stings my chest when I think about it.

Like now as I lay in this bed with my arms around her. The scent of her hair in my nose as I inhale deeply so as to never let the memory of her scent escape me. I wish I could see her face; see the peacefulness in her expression while she slept.

She let me spend the night with her on several occasions. She lives with her older sister, Kai, my best friend of so many years. She and her sister are only two years apart but Kai was always the independent working type of woman. She never liked living with her parents and only seemed to tolerate them while she lived there growing up.

But I tell Kai everything. Shes been my best friend since kindergarten. She was so quiet and shy and I so wild and free, and an emotional wreck. She would always be there for me when Isabelle and I got into it. She would leave for a bar and I would let Kai wrap me up in her arms and rock me while I confessed and whined and complained about her unreasonable sibling.

She would always listen and nod and stroke me hair.

I wonder why she’s still single sometimes. She’s just as beautiful as her sister; long thick red hair, freckles, and the ever so popular silver eyes. She looked blind sometimes if she didn’t blink. We would tease some of our friends by pretending she was blind and then shouting “IT’S A MIRACLE!”. We would laugh all night and reminisce about it with older memories till the sun came up.

I tried to set her up with one of my friends once. She went out with him and ended up ditching him and running to my apartment with tears in her eyes. She never told me what happened but I never spoke to that guy again. And he never spoke to me.

I’ll never forget the look in her silver eyes, the fear of the night; the memory playing over and over again in her eyes.

I’ll never forgive myself for letting whatever happened happen to her. She hadn’t been the same since. Doesn’t laugh as much and she covers her gaze with sunglasses.

“Hey, babe.” Isabelle says, pulling me out of my thoughts as her finger stroked my nose.

I smile at her and take her hand to kiss it.

“I thought you would have left by now.”

I lower her hand and make a puppy pout face.

She laughs and says “no! It’s just something I thought. No biggy. I’m glad you’re still here.” She presses her lips to mine and jumps out of bed.

I look at the clock and see that it’s six o’clock in the evening and fairly dark outside.

I sigh and relax. No rush today, I’m off and I plan on spending the day with my lady.

“Don’t you have to work today?”

I shake my head.

“Oh…I’m going to make some food. Uh, go ahead and clean yourself up.”

I look at her but she has already started to leave the room her gown flying behind her like a nagging ghost. She still had make up on her face from last night. It held on pretty good; didn’t leave too much of a mess.

I hear little footsteps tapping quietly down the hall and I see Kai poke her head in.

“And he’s down for the count!” she shouts.

I laugh with her and halfheartedly shoo her away.

She sticks her tongue out at me and giggles before heading to the washroom.

I get out of bed and get my clothes and start for the washroom opposite the one Kai went in. As I walk past the door, steam milling through the bottom cracks, I hear her singing a song “if I die young” off key and wholeheartedly.

I snicker under my breath and bang on the door.

“Hey! Can ya sing a little louder for me? I love listening to that miraculous voice of yours!” I shout.

“Shut up, Bottomfeeder!” she shouts back.

I continue to laugh and toss my clothes in the unoccupied washroom. I walk into the kitchen to spy in Isabelle and I see her on the phone…whispering into the receiver.

I sneak up behind her and grab her waist and she jumps as if a burglar were attacking her.

“Igottago.” she says in one sigh.

“You okay?” I ask holding her while she tosses the phone on the counter and forks the eggs to scrambling the yolk and egg.

“Yeah. You just can’t sneak up on me like that!” she says a little too much vehemence in her tone and a tight smile plastered on her face.

My arms slip away.

“Alright.” I say quietly. I kiss her on the cheek and head for the washroom, walking by Kai in the process as she stood in the hallway with a toothbrush sticking out of her mouth.

I nudge her with my hip and she feigns hip injury and chuckles before nudge me with her shoulder.


I hear the door to the washroom gently close and the water spraying from the faucet.

That’s when I make my move.

“Are you still talking to him?” I ask.

She shrugs.

“I like talking to him.”

I glare at her.

“He’s your ex, Issy.” I snap.

“He’s a nice guy, Kai!”

“I don’t care! You know how you two broke up. It was messy and ridiculous. Why would you talk to him again after what he did to you?”

She looks at me sympathetically.

“I love him.” she admits quietly.

She forks the eggs out of the skillet and adds spinach and cheese and pepper before throwing on raisin bagel with cream cheese. Non fat.

“You want to get back with him?”

She shrugs again.

“Issy, what about Aadil? Where does he fit in with your “chats”?”

she sits at our small kitchen table set for four and starts to eat.

I sit in the chair across from her.

And glare of course.

“Stop staring at me!” she shrieks.

“Not until you tell me what the Hell you plan on doing! He’s my best friend, Isabelle!” I hiss.

I hear the water turn off.

We both look in the direction of the bathroom.

I glare at her again as she slowly starts to eat her food again.

“Do Not hurt him.” I growl at her.

The door opens and there he is. Short dark hair spiked up from the wash, glistening neck and chest. He wore his white over shirt without anundershirt and we could both see his athletic abs on tanned skin glistening softly with little drips gliding down those six bricks.

He was beautiful. And my sister wants to dump him.

I wonder what goes on in that mind of hers but she has become a complete mystery to me since she started talking to Jacob again. Jacob being her ex, that is.

I shake my head and flash a smile at Aadil before I hop out of my seat and leave the kitchen.

I do not want to be in the room if she decides to act fast.


“Whoa!- where’s the fire?” I laugh as Kai rushes past me.

“In your shoes! You got that fungus off yet?” Kai shouts back but not stopping.

Isabelle gags on her eggs and I laugh and tell Kai to eat monkey feet.

“Dork!” she shouts before slamming her door.

I shake my head, a smile still stuck on my face. Then it completely disappears when I see Isabelle’s expression.

“What’s wrong?” Why is everyone so tense?

“Nothing. You should eat something. There are some eggs and bacon in the fridge.”

I take her hand in mine and she lets me hold it for a moment before gently pulling away.

“I need to get ready for work.”

“I thought you were off.”

She shakes her head.

“No I…have a freelance job at a law firm. Proofreading some documents.” she says.

I nod.

“When will you be back?”


She rushes over to put her plate in the sink and nearly runs for her bedroom slamming the door, locking it when she entered.

I contemplate staying here or going home… or visiting my mother. My mother is not exactly a cheery person so I cancel her out and just contemplate between the former two.

I hear a door open, hoping its Isabelle, but it’s only Kai skulking down the hallway with jeans and a red button down plaid blouse on. Her hair is still a mess and I think about teasing her about it but think better of it because she might hit me and I’m too tired to physically fight her.

“You working today?” I say instead.

She shakes her head.

“Wanna hang out?”

“Your place or mine?”

“We can go to mine. My games are better.”

“You’re twenty years old, Dil. I think you should think about investing in some more age appropriate forms of entertainment.”

I raise and eyebrow and snicker.

She shakes her head glares at me, fist on hips.

“Fine I’ll go but I want to chose the games.”

“No way! You always want to play some weird party five-year-old game.”

“And you always want to play Madden!”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I hate Football!”

“It’s my game…” I muttered.

She glares at me with the most threatening eyes.

“Alright! Just…just stop staring. It scares me.”

She smiles. Satisfied with her successful threat and reward.

“Alrighty! Lets go. We are going out Is!-see ya later!”

“Uh huh…” is Isabelle’s only muffled response.

I stop Kai right before she reaches the doorknob.

“Are you going out with your hair looking like that?” I risk my life to ask.

She steps back and looks in the mirror on the wall next to the front door and nearly jumps when she sees the mess on her head.

“You tellin’ me you didn’t notice your hair look like sh-”

“No! Ohymygod! Hold on a sec.” she rushes back to her room and slams the door.

Five minutes later she’s out of the room and her hair is swept back into a low ponytail and she’s wearing her glasses.

“What happened to your contacts?” I ask.

She shoots imaginary daggers at me.

“hairspray got in my eye and…melted them.”

It took all that I had not to burst out laughing.

She still notices though.

And she punches me for it.

“Omf!- I’m sorry! It’s just… how did you melt your contacts? What spray are you using?”

“It has a lot of alcohol in it…”

“That would explain the split ends-”

“Okay! I am not going!” she cries and starts stomping back to her room.

I grab her wrist and tug her towards the door.

She stares at my hand for a moment and I thought she was going to hit me again but she just stares

“Suck it up and lets go.” I try to shake out a laugh but her staring caught me off guard.

We run through the streets of New York until we reach the little town I like to call Lowrent. I live in a small studio apartment on the 3rd floor of my building. Which has no elevator.

“I hate your building.” Kai says through shallow breaths.

I chuckle at her because she’s so out of shape.

“I thought you were doing calisthenics or something.”

Callanetics and… I have… sort of.”

“Mm hmm seems to be working out for ya.” I smile at her.

She blushes and playfully punches my arm.

“You’re gonna break my arm if you keep doing that.”

“Rather break your arm than something else…”

We let that hang in the air for a moment when Kai’s phone rings. We just reach my apartment door and Kai gives me the “go ahead” gesture.

“One sec.” she mouths.

I go ahead into the room and close the door gently behind me.


“What, Is?”

“Are you still with him?”

“No, I’m with Winny the Pooh.”

I hear her sigh.

“I need you to tell him for me.”

A look that must have been shock flashes across my face.


“Tell him… I want to see other people.” she says.

I’m silent for what seems like hours before I zone back into what Isabelle is saying to me.

“Hello?- Kailen! What the fu-”

“I can’t do that, Isabelle.”

“Sure you can! You’re his bud! He’ll take the news much better coming from you,” she says, “plus I need you to keep him there. Jacob is coming over and we have a lot of catching up to do.”

My mouth falls open.

Tell me again why I can’t kill her?

“You want me to stall AND break up with him for you?” I hiss into the phone. I’m worried that Aadil will here me. I pray to God for Dil not to hear me.

“You’re making it sound really bad…”

“It. Is. Really bad!” I hiss with a shriek.

“Calm down!-he’ll hear you-”

“Does it really matter if he hears me?”


“I’m not telling him anything” I spit into the phone, “and you better have a hell of a night because I might just decide to come home early.”

I hang up before she can respond to my bluff.

It’s a bluff because I really do not want to go home early just to see Dil catch the love of his life cheating on him.

I take a deep breath and walk into his apartment.

And he’s playing Madden…

He turns around and smiles that gorgeous smile at me and I nearly fall to the floor wishing that my sister would burn in-

“Come on,” he laughs, “I’m not gonna play this all day. Just needed something to do while you were on the phone. Who was it anyway?”

Why lie to him now?


He paused the game, got up and walked over to me.

Which I thought was completely unnecessary because he could have interrogated me from the couch.

“What did she say?” he looks truly worried.

What did she say to him?

I shrug. “She just wants us to pick up some chips on our way back to my place.”

I feel a pain shoot to my chest. I can’t stand lying to him and I hope he believes what I tell him.

He looks skeptical for a moment before slinging his arm over my should and leading me to the couch.

“What do you want to play?”

I pick up the second controller.

“Lets just play Madden.” I smile at him easily. If he’s gonna get hurt I should at least give him his football.


To my surprise Kai and I play Madden together for almost two hours straight, beating the crap out of me. I give up and let her put in her favorite kiddy game. Viva Pinata.

I sigh as I watch her play that ridiculous game which actually wasn’t all that bad. Quite amusing actually. She cursed every time something went wrong and threw a mini tantrum. I would laugh at her constantly until she calmed herself enough to realize I had been laughing at her and then sucker punch me in the gut.

She’s small but she packs one hell of a punch.

We played video games for about five hours before we got bored and decided to scour the streets for food… chips included.

She lied to me about the chip thing. I knew because there was already three brand new unopened bags of chips in their cabinets last night.

She seemed tense too. But that’s nothing new. She’s been like that since the incident with the date. She doesn’t like to touch me even a little bit anymore. She used to just grab me up for hugs all the time…now she tenses as if she can’t wait for me to pull away. The thought sent slow flowing sadness through me and I just had to look at Kai, in her eyes, to see what was wrong with her. I couldn’t do it though.

We are walking down the dark streets of the big city. Most passersby are the nondomecile types. A few of them hold out their hands, asking if we could spare some loose change. Kai has a small change bag in her purse for such circumstances and she whips it out to give the guy a couple of dollars in change.

“God bless you!” the streetman says.”

We decide to catch a cab instead.

I tell the driver to just drive and that I’ll tell him when to stop.

Kai chuckles and I nudge her foot with mine.

I tell the driver to stop five minutes into the ride and we jump out, I pay the fee, and we head into the little 24 hour shop.

“So.. what kinda chips are we getting tonight?” I ask her.

She picks up a bag with out looking at it and puts it in her basket.

“You okay?”


I just stop talking right along with her.


I couldn’t talk to him, not without telling him everything! I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to kick my sister in her shin a million times!

I want Aadil to hold me and use me as his shoulder again. No tensity, no awkward touching.

Damn that girl!

He would never date again after this fiasco is over.

I follow him to the check out and we pay for our things. Separate. And start for my place, which is a block away.

I want more time; more time to see his smile, hear his laugh. He’d go dark when this is over I just know he will. He may never talk to me again but I can’t see that happening. No, our friendship is too intimate; too rare. Too friendly.

I gaze straight ahead for most of the walk only glancing at Aadil on occasionally.

Then he stops me.

“There’s something you’re not telling.” he says matter-of-factually.

I shake my head.

“Then why won’t you talk to me? What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.” My second lie to him throughout our fifteen years of friendship.

He takes my hand in his and we keep walking towards my building. The lights in Isabelle’s room are on.

“Guess she’s back from work.”


He glances at me again.

I ignore his gaze and keep walking. Sliding my hand out of his, reluctantly.

I hate this so much.

We ride the elevator to the 7th floor of my building and I can’t stop shaking.

“Jesus, Kai! Will you just tell me what’s wrong.”

I rush off the elevator and head for my door. My hands are shaking and Aadil snatches the key from me and slides it easily in he lock. All the while glaring at me with a hint of anger and worry.

My heart stopped beating when we entered the the room. There were clothes on the floor: shoes, tops, pants…oh God.

I feel like I’m going to throw up.

I watch Aadil take in the scene. He puts the groceries gently on the counter.

“Aadil…” I whisper.

He holds his hand up and then brings his finger to his mouth, signifying silence.

I put my hands over my mouth and will my tears to stay back. I can see the darkness rising in his eyes, his skin paling, his hair becoming duller by the second.

We could hear them.

Everything they were doing.

The keys drop to the counter and the giggles stop.

I hear a faint “shh” and my throat constricts.

Oh God.

I hear the door open and Isabelle AND Jacob are peeking at us around the corner in the hall.

Jacob is wearing nothing but briefs and Isabelle… a sheet.

You have got to be kidding!

“Is…” Aadil starts, but he seems unable to ask the question that need not be answered.

“I’m sorry, Dilly,” A pain hits my chest. She called him the nickname that only she ever called him, the special name. “I can’t be with you anymore…it just doesn’t feel right. I feel right with Jacob and he feels right with me right, Jacob?”

She glances up at Jacob who just stands there half-naked in our dining room, staring at Aadil as if to see if the flipping of tables would be necessary.

“Anyway. I’m really sorry, Dilly-”

“Don’t… call me that please? I get it.” Aadil says. He looks at me, searchingly, as if to find the answer to a question I was ignorant to.

“But Dilly I just want to say that these past two years-”

“Three years…”

“Yeah- the best three years of my life!”

I could see Jacob out of the corner of my eye slowly reaching for his pants when Aadil suddenly glanced in his direction.

He froze and it was as if time stood still.

Me and Isabelle just stand there, holding our breaths, waiting for something to happen.

Aadil nods at him and starts for the door.

As he walks past me he grabs my hand and yanks me along with him forcing a tiny “Eep!” from my chest.

The door slams behind us and he turns around and traps me up against the door with boths hands on either side so that I don’t move.

“Why?” is all he asks.

I shake my head, lip trembling, eyes flooding. I could no longer hold them back.

“I don’t know…” I say so quietly I’m not sure he heard me. I wrap my arms around his torso and him tightly while his hands stay plastered to the wall.

I feel his palm press against my back and no sooner than his palm touched me did he pull away and stare at me with empty eyes.

“You knew and-”

“No!-well yes!- I knew but I couldn’t tell you.” He starts to walk away. “Aadil! Please… I didn’t want to be the one to hurt you.” I say.

“Then you should have told me.” he says still walking away.

“Aadil!” I shriek, so loudly I’m sure I sounded like I was being murdered to my fellow neighbors.

He finally stops and looks at me as if I’ve insane.

My knees give away and I drop to the floor, tears in my eyes, hands on my thighs yet focusing my gaze on him.

He walks back to me and helps me to my feet. I can’t stop wobbling so he holds my waist to keep my steady.

“Go to bed.” he says to me, his expression hard and his body stiff.

I shake my head.

“I.. Don’t … Want … To… Lose-” I try to say in between hiccups but Aadil gently covers my mouth with his hand.

“Go to bed.” he says again.

I shake my head, yet again.

He sighs and removes his hand from my mouth and replaces it in my hand.

“Come on then.” he says tonelessly.


I want to be alone.

Need to be alone.

But Kai…oh Kai. She is a complete wreck. I almost forgot who got their heart broken tonight, but I understood. I understood why she didn’t tell me. It wasn’t her’s to tell anyway.

But why?

Isabelle had said that it didn’t feel right? It felt right to me! I wanted to marry her. I wanted her to bear my children. I wanted to argue over furnishing arrangements!

Jacob didn’t say anything, not even when she asked him it if it felt right.

Nothing feels right anymore. I feel like I’m sinking and I can’t swim to the surface.

I shake my head as I take Kai home with me. She won’t sleep in her own bed so she can sleep in mine. I’ll crash on the couch. It’s comfortable, enough.

“Aadil?” she says through hiccups. God I want to smack her and hold her at the same time. But now is not the time. I can’t do anything but crave solitude right now.

I just need Kai to sleep.

She tried to say that she didn’t want to lose our friendship?

I don’t blame her, fifteen years is a long time.

I wouldn’t want to lose that either. But I couldn’t tell her that now because she was still hysterical.

I hope she doesn’t think this is her fault. I prayed she didn’t think that.

We finally arrive at my door and I lift her up and toss her on my bed. She turns away from and bunches herself into a little ball. Still sniffling.

“I’m not mad at you.” I say to her.

She glances over her shoulder and then turns away.

“I know.” she says, her voice muffled by the pillow.

I gently pat her back and set my bed on the couch.

I turn off the lights, not even bothering to change, and jump into bed on my slightly too small for a bed couch.

“I’m so sorry, Aadil.” I hear her whisper, so gently did she whisper I almost didn’t hear her.

“Do you think she’ll take me back,” I ask, “one day, maybe?”

“I hope so.” she utters.

“Then I won’t move until she does.” I say, “I’m not leaving this place until she comes back to me.”


“Go to sleep, Kai.”

Save Me A Bed Of Roses (short story)

    Okie Dokie! Hello Everyone,  Aemma here! And I am presenting to you a wonderful story I wrote a few months ago for a contest on Booksie! It did pretty well in the contest too; got me into the final round and I’m pretty darn happy about that.

    So moving to the important facts about the story. Here is the summary:

    Dante has met the girl of his dreams only to be taken aback by her psychological illness known as creutzfeldt. The girl he loves has the spirit of a child but her disease has given her a short time to live and a nasty attitude to boot. Dante then has to make the difficult decision on whether or not he will be able to be with a girl with such a gruesome disorder.
    This story was inspired by the song “if I die young”.

    The beginning

    Never had I seen such an angel as she.
    Giggling along in her little white tee.
    Her long thick hair the dye of delicious chocolate.
    Her skin the smooth caramel of candy and the suns kisses.
    Her big violet eyes…so deep-so knowing-so free, wrinkled with laughter as she smiles at me.
    No I have never met her, until today- she was as foreign to me as dog to a deer, and yet, she smiled at me- as if knowing full well what my wishes were.
    She had been standing in a cluster of strangers- or maybe friends,but strangers to me- at a fair I had been dragged to by my brother and his buddies to attend, but they were not the best company at all; all they ever did was hoot at pretty females and shout obscene slang. I did not envy the young lady who had to listen to “Yo baby can I ha ya digits!?!” and then strut away without so much as flipping them off. Apparently girls don’t kick assholes in the junk unless they are provoked.
    The girl didn’t seem to notice the language misdemeanor that was being preformed before her. She only watched me, reading my gaze as I return it to her.
    I hoped that I wouldn’t be so mistakenly misread to the point where she wouldn’t come talk to me. Or should I go to her?
    She answered my question and walked away-just walked off without saying a word to one of her persons…she looked back at me expectantly as if she wanted me to follow. She was walking in the direction of an abandoned farm. She seemed giddy and mysterious and shrewd at the same time… I wondered if I should follow her would she pounce on me?
    That actually wasn’t a bad thought but I am not that kind of guy.
    She disappeared into the farm and I followed hastily after her.
    “Do you always stare at girls as if they are mans candy?” I hear her say as I walk into the old farmhouse.
    I looked around the farm for her but it was fairly dark, although it was only sunset, I assumed she was hiding herself.
    “No…you just seemed interesting to look at.” was all I could say.
    I suddenly felt very lame and quickly added, “Uh- where are you?” and felt instantly just as stupid as before.
    I heard her giggling and decided to keep my mouth shut until she answered me.
    “You’re quite interesting yourself, dude.” she finally said in between giggles. “Do you have a name?”
    “I’d feel obliged to tell you if I could see you. “ I laughed.
    She ’tisk tisked’ and said:
    “Gosh! Men always have to see what they’re getting into, huh?” her remark seemed as if it were meant to have more than one meaning, but I let it go and told her my name.
    “My name is Dante.” I said plainly. Still looking for her wondrous shape in the shadows.
    “Very nice!” she said enthusiastically. “Arabelle is my name. Belle for short.”
    And with that she dropped from a platform landing about 6 inches away from me.
    She smiled at what must have been a surprised or terrified look on my face.
    “Nice to meet you.” she said with a short laugh.
    “Same here.”
    She shook my hand but didn’t let go…she only stared at me, her pouty lips in a kind smile. She squeezed my hand and came closer to me.
    “I should let you know now that I am not like other girls…” she whispered .
    I knew that was true the moment I saw her. I just didn’t know what made her so different.
    “I know.” I assured her with a smile.
    “No you don’t.” she said darkly.

    The middle

    Three months have past and I have never been more in love with anyone than I am with Arabelle. Her heart is so wild as if there is not enough time in the world to do anything…and maybe there isn’t, but I love her for it. The way she looked deep into me when she spoke to, the way she touched me- I’d feel a spark of fire in her fingertips, magic to my skin making me long for more.
    But sometimes she would lose it- and I mean lose it- like she would suddenly start shaking and yelling odd things at me…she would get so angry it would seem as if she were possessed.
    That being the reason why I’ll never forget the first time I went to her house.
    She called me at around seven.
    “Hey, can you come over, babe?” she said shyly. “My parents aren’t here and I get scared when I’m alone.”
    What else was I supposed to say?
    “Yeah, sure- I’ll see you in a bit.”
    She gave me her address and hung up. She didn’t live too far away, only a ten-minute walk. It felt fantastic to be out doors in this town during the summer, the heat and the wind were the most incredible mix…it felt perfect.
    Her house was a small two-story yellow brick structure with a red roof…not very pretty architecture but it was livable.
    The door to her house swung open and there she was…standing there in her denim shorts and a black tank, her hair tousled and messy. She looked…different…she looked pissed.
    “Where have you been!?” she yelled at me.
    Nothing but shock on my face.
    She looked horrible, and so tired.
    She was scowling at me as if I had spilled soda on her clean white rug.
    “WHO IS SHE, HUH? Am I not good enough?! Where the HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!”
    She was breaking into a drenching sweat and her shakes where fantastic.
    I was scared for her. I wanted to hug her but I felt as if she would push me away or cringe with enmity. And her eyes practically bulged out of there eye sockets.
    And who was “she” supposed to be?
    “GET OUT!” she shouted. Her veins pulsing as her blood rushed through them as they tried to find a cool place to settle.
    “Belle, what is wrong with you?” I said calmly, taking a few tentative steps toward her. “Tell me what’s wrong… please.”
    She stepped back as I progressed…her eyes red with anger and hurt.
    What did she think I had done?
    “Get. Out. Now, Dante.” she warned me, darkness now clouding her eyes.
    I stared at her- plainly and deeply.
    And to my shock and horror she rushed into the kitchen and pulled a knife!
    “GET OUT!!!” she screamed, shakily point the blade at me.
    She was breaking my heart. And I think she knew it too. But all she had said to me was this:
    “Gather up your tears, keep ’em in your pocket, save them for a time when you’re really gonna need them.”
    I didn’t even realize I had beencrying until she said so.
    A girl had never made me cry before…and I knew it would never happen again.
    I gazed at her one last- one very short- time and started for the door.
    “Bye, Arabelle.” I said sorrowfully.
    And I left… closing the door behind me.

    I hadn’t seen her in four days.
    And I didn’t have a care.
    She hurt me deeply- more hurt than I could spare.
    What made her think she had to make that say?
    Would she have really killed me?
    Stabbed my aching heart
    In fear of what I might be?
    And so pushing us apart.
    I live for nothing of the sort.
    I had been sitting outside on my steps thinking of her. She was in my mind all the time.
    I was so deep in thought that I barely heard the little footsteps I knew so well.
    “Hey, you!” she said playfully.
    Yes it was her, all happy and giddy. And so very annoying at the moment.
    “Where have you been? You haven’t called in awhile.”
    Did she not remember threatening to stab me the other day?
    “What the hell is wrong with you?” I hissed at her.
    She looked shocked and hurt at my response.
    “What are you talking about?” she said in a small voice.
    “You threatened to kill me with a fucking knife, Arabelle!” I barked at her.
    I saw her jump at my outburst and I saw the tears welling in her eyes. Her lips were trembling, her whole body shaking…and not from the cry that was about to come.
    “I never did that, Dante.” She whimpered. She looked so tired and frail now that I looked at her. As if she hadn’t slept in days.
    But one thing I was starting to see was this: She really did not remember what she did.
    I looked at her; her body seemed so small, like she munched herself up as if she were tense. She wouldn’t look at me but I didn’t blame her.
    I just accused her of trying to kill me and she didn’t even know she did.
    I stood up and pulled her up with me, carrying her inside my house, and closing the door behind me.

    I took me half the day to explain my outburst to her, and my absents. She was shocked at first at what she’d done but soon understood what happened.
    She told me why she did it and- though there was no excuse- she couldn’t help it. And she really didn’t remember.
    I pulled her close to chest and held her there as we sat on the couch.
    My mother was home but she didn’t much disapprove of my having females in the house, or in my bedroom.
    Though I never took advantage of that last bit.
    It was quiet in the house so I assumed my mother was asleep.
    Arabelle had been very quiet as well most of the time, and I saw a tear drop from her cheek occasionally.
    I finally decided to break the silence.
    “Belle, you’re gonna have to tell me what’s going on with you.” I told her. “I can’t keep forgiving you every time you threaten to kill me.”
    She chuckled a little and looked up at me. Her nose was red and as well as her eyes, and I felt a pang of guilt for hurting her so badly.
    “I didn’t mean too… I don’t know where I was that day, honestly I don’t.” she said sincerely.
    I stroked her cheek and kissed her forehead. And we lay there together until early dawn.

    The end 
    Another three months later

    “Babe, I want you to promise me something.” She said.
    “Anything…” I said. Pulling her closer as we lie in a field of tall grass.
    “If I die young, bury me in satin,
    Lay me down in a bed of roses,
    Sink me in the river at dawn,
    And send me away with the words of a love song.”
    The ending she said with a smile.
    “Why do you want me to promise that?” I said warily.
    She had told me of her illness, and that it’s killing her and destroying her brain…and her sense. She knew how bad it was and she told me one day something might happen to her…something tragic that she wouldn’t be able to stop.
    She was talking about suicide.
    “You’re not doing that!” I told her firmly as I held her tighter.
    “I’m not!” she said with a laugh as she jumping up and started to dance.
    Her illness obviously hadn’t caught her spirit.
    As I watched her body move rigidly but beautifully to her own silent melody, her hair swinging in the air without care, here legs as shaky as they’ll ever be moved along to a toneless song. I watched her with what I’m sure was passion in my gaze, I suddenly found myself saying…
    “I love you, Arabelle.”
    She stopped dancing and looked at me, frozen in her plain stance, her face just the same.
    “What did you say?” she said her shakes visible with her general stillness.
    “I. Love. You.” I said slowly getting to my feet, and entering her bubble.
    “Dante…I’m not the best person to fall in love with-”
    “I don’t care,” I said, holding her face in my hands, “I already have.”
    And kissed her full soft lips.
    I breathed her in and pulled her closer, not caring who saw us in such a display of affection.
    I pulled her down to the grass with me and we lay there, lips together, bodies close. The heat had made us both sweat little beads of salty liquid, but we didn’t care. We only wanted to be closer.
    I lifted her soft blue dress just a little so I could touch her skin, run my hand up her leg, feel her stomach rise and fall rapidly, holding on to her waist- never wanting to let go.
    I pulled my face away from her, and looked into her eyes, asking a question I never thought I would ask.
    “Yes.” was her breathless answer. And she pressed her lips to mine once again.
    If I hadn’t know better and wasn’t so drunk with summer heat I would have kept going and given her what she wanted. But my mind soon-and reluctantly so- processed why she had wanted me to do it.
    And I couldn’t do it anymore.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “I’m not doing this for that, Belle.” I said, pulling away from her love hold.
    “For what!?” she said with a squeak and a whine.
    “You know what…”
    “No! I- Dante…Dante? Dante!” she called after me as I began to walk away. “You said you loved me!”
    “That doesn’t mean I’ll take your virginity because your dying!” I snapped.
    “Dante! Stop! Dante, Please!” she begged, but I kept walking, leaving her in the field.
    “OK! You’re right!” she shrieked, making me stop and turn to her.
    “No, I’m not right. I know you don’t want to go without experiencing as much as you can. But how can you ask me to do that to you, and not expect me to hurt more when you’re gone?”
    “I wasn’t-”
    “I know you weren’t.” I cut in. slowly walking back to her. “I love you too much to do that to you, Belle. And I’ll love you forever.”
    “How can you love me so much, and not want to show me?” she said , confusion plastered all over her sweet face.
    I have to admit she had a point, at that time it was more for me than for her that we stay apart. I didn’t want to be hurt by her more than I already would be when she’s gone.
    A very selfish thing I know now.
    And I regret it just as much as I regret refusing her.

    We had gone our separate ways some time after our deluge. I had decided to stay out and walk a little while, enjoy the twilight sky and the stars. The wind kissing my hair and face, smelling of sweet honeysuckle grace. I wished this walk would last forever, with Belle by my side.
    I had just made it home when my mother rushes me, phone in hand.
    “It’s Arabelle.” she said. A rather large grin spreading on her face.
    “…Thanks, mom.” I said slowly, taking the phone out of her hand. “Hello?”
    “Come over, baby, I have a surprise for you.” she said sensually. “Just come right in, the door is unlocked.”
    She Hung up as soon as she was finished.
    “I’ll be right back, mom.” I said, giving the phone back to her.
    “Alright, don’t stay out too late.” she warned jokingly.
    I smiled and gave her a hug the left.

    When I got to her house the windows were dark, except for one on the upper left floor. Warm light spilled from that window, letting any untrustworthy person know that there was,indeed,someone home.
    I opened the door and stepped inside. It was very dark and eery, and very cold for a house that is sitting in summer weather.
    I assumed she wanted me to find her room, which wouldn’t be too hard seeing as her room was the only one with the lights on.
    I walked up the creaky stairs and down the short hall to Belle’s bedroom.
    When I opened the door I expected her to pounce on me, but she did nothing of the sort.
    Instead I see her lying on the floor in a large crimson puddle.
    She was dead.
    Lying in a pool of her own blood, a very large knife lying next to her. And a long gash down the front of her body, as if she stabbed her heart then yanked the knife down.
    “Belle?” I dumbly said to her dead corps.
    I got down on my knees, kneeling in her blood, and held her bloody cold hand.
    She had done it.
    The very thing I was afraid she would do, even though I knew she would do it.
    But not this soon!
    And I wondered, if I had loved her like she wanted me to, would she still be here?
    Tears welled in my eyes and I sobbed over her beautiful bloody body.
    Wanting so much to take back what I had not done. I wanted to give her whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, as long as it kept her alive.
    But I was too late.
    “Gather up your tears, keep ’em in your pocket, save them for a time when you’re really gonna need them.”
    She had said to me, after she threatened to kill me. I felt as if now was the time.
    I knew I needed them now.
    I saw a note on her bed folded perfectly in half, I got to my feet and picked up the note, reading it in silence and disbelief.
    ‘Don’t forget what I asked of you.
    You shall make my dreams come true,
    Give me the burial you promised to me,
    Show me the love you refused me
    In the simple task I ask:
    Bury me in satin,
    Lay me down in a bed of roses,
    Sink me in the river at dawn,
    And send me away with the words of a love song.
    Do not do me wrong,
    This is only a simple request…-‘
    I heard a car pull into the driveway, but I didn’t care, I read and reread her note again. And again.
    “Arabelle?” called who I assumed to be her mother. I heard her coming up stairs, down the hall and finally screaming in the doorway as she gazed down upon her daughters body.
    “What have you done!?!” she screamed at me.
    I swear it was Daja Vu all over again.
    I quietly gave her the note, and stared down at Arabelle’s bloody form:
    Around her lovely neck she wore her pearls.
    Her dress a soft sheer white-now bloodied- and so thin it was see-through,
    and I could see her still chest and the rest of her naked skin, such beautiful skin now consumed with cold
    She had been perfect. So alive and free- so knowing and loving.
    My gift from the heavens.*
    And my true love.
    I looked down at the gash along her front, and the last lines in her note came to mind.
    ‘I wasn’t meant to live a long life,
    The sharp knife of a short lived life,
    Well, I’ve had just enough time
    To live the life I had been given to live.’