When love met destruction. - chapter I.

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–Juliet pov–

We were on September the twenty-first, the school year began again after the end of a stupid holiday in which all I did was getting nervous thinking about the next school year. This year was my last in high school, which I was relieved about but stressed at the same time. I arrived at school a few minutes before the start of the first period, so I sat outside in a corner, the same place as always, waiting for Emilie to come. That was when I saw him passing by, as usual, bleary-eyed. He was so cute... But something was wrong, he hadn't greeted me like every day since I met him early last year, he hadn't smiled as he used to do, and he hadn't spoken to me as he always did. He passed by me like I wasn't there, so I screamed his name in case he hadn't seen me, but what he did then was looking at me, impassive, and then continue walking.

I lost sight of him when he got into the crowd and, when my eyes returned to find him, I saw a girl hugging and kissing him. I didn't know he had a girlfriend, but she was the type of girl he would absolutely like: pink hair with two or three pink and black striped extensions, skinny, with snakebites piercings and, yes, big breasts. She was... strange, such more specific. And I was a girl of meter seventy, long brown hair with blond highlights, without piercings or tattoos, or a body to die for. I always knew he would never look at me, I'm not his type at all. Even Emilie told me. Why couldn't I get him out of my head? He was everything I had always wanted: funny, nice, smart, always made me laugh... Why wasn't I his type? It was always the same, to smile and carry on, life goes on...

At that time I saw Emilie pushing through the crowd, probably holding back to avoid to start hitting everyone there; I knew well her temper and lack of patience, that at morning turned even worse. She was like a volcano ready to erupt, sometimes even I was scared of her.
"I'm sorry..." She said as she sat beside me. "I didn't know he..."
"Nothing happens, however, he wouldn't be single for a long time." I hugged her, trying not to fall apart, and then we got up to go to Economics class.
We sat in the back line, next to the window. It was the best place to get away from the class. TJ's classroom was the one next door to ours; I couldn't stop thinking about him. Our relationship has never been very good, but not bad. What had happened then, to completely ignore me now? The class began normally: Emilie in her world half asleep, me taking notes, the posh girls talking, and the teacher screaming. As always, I must say.

"Emilie..." I called my friend so she wouldn't fall asleep, she had been a while spellbound staring at nothing. "Emilie..." Still no answer. "Emilie!"
"Whaat, what?" She finally reacted, looking nervous.
"What's the matter?" I knew something was up, it was common for her to be stunned, but she'd never reached that point.
"I was remembering..."

–Emilie flashback–

That day I also wore my black dress. It had been a month since Adam, the only boy I had ever loved, died. I broke through the rusty gate of the cemetery, empty at that afternoon on August the thirteenth. I walked the stone path running through the cemetery from end to end, hearing only the beat of my shoes at every step. I no longer needed to seek, I already knew by heart the location of his grave. Soon I found it, kneeling, and reading once again the inscription carved on the cold hard stone.

Adam Dayron, 16-08-1994 – 13-06-2011.

I reviewed his name with my fingers, still without understanding why he had to go away, leaving me here alone, without air, but unable to shed a tear. Not anymore. After a month of crying and insomnia, I had become numb. I passed a hand through my hair –long, straight, purple, in two buns and with my v-shaped bangs covering my forehead–, and took off the red rose that had been attached behind my ear. I dropped the flower on his grave, still hoping him to come out and embrace me as only he could do, when I felt a presence at my back.

I turned, still kneeling on the ground, and raised my eyes to meet a pale boy, his straight black hair to his shoulders and with his long bangs combed aside. His eyes were blue, or maybe green, outlined in black, and he had snakebites piercings. He would be more or less of my age, and he was dressed entirely in black.
"I thought at this time no one was visiting the cemetery." He said with a grim smile.
"Yup, same here." I got up, trying not to step on my dress, and saw that this boy was about five or six inches taller than me. "Loss of a loved one?"
"Well, eight years ago, but... I like walking by the cemetery." He smiled slightly, and then continued. "It's interesting to see the graves, reading the names of those buried here and think about how their lives were, why they died... But it's also sad how they slowly fall into oblivion."

When I realized, I was walking down this dismal place with that mysterious boy whose name was still unknown for me. He grabbed my hand and made me go with him into a small stone building, with a stained glass window at three of its walls, and a wood and metal door in the fourth. Never before had I been there; in fact, I'd never noticed its existence. Inside were two graves without a name engraved on them, separated by an ancient sculpture in the shape of an angel. We sat on the stone floor, next to each other, alone in the dim light of candles resting on the shelves of the three windows through which sunlight barely passed.

"He died very young, right?" He broke the silence, and I immediately knew who he meant.
"Too young." I answered, with a sigh.
"How did it happen?" He took my hands and looked into my eyes, his face only inches from mine. I sighed again, breathing deeply and getting rid of his grip.
"I met Adam last year. He was like the 'outcast' of high school, and always called my attention. Do you know...? Always so lonely, reserved, contrary to others... So one day I decided to talk to him, and little by little he trusted in me, and both discovered we had many things in common, but nothing to fight for. He became my everything, my reason to carry on, but..." I gulped. "I wasn't good enough. One day, I went to his house to make one of my regular visits. Adam lived alone, so his home was already my second one. I went into his apartment, calling him with no answer. I was surprised, because he never left home, so I went into the living room, empty. Then I went into his bedroom, there he was." I took a deep breath, grasping the hand of my companion. "With a rope around his neck."

He hugged me tightly, stroking my hair. I hadn't let anyone hold me since then, not even my best friend. Adam's death made me become more reserved, less affectionate. But... I was so well in his arms.
"You can cry if you need it." He whispered, and I shook my head. "You know how the two people who lie here died?" He separated from me, staring at me with wide eyes as I watched him expectantly. "In the mid-nineteenth century, near from here lived a couple in love. They'd spent years together, making each other happy. One October night, returning home after the hard working day, he quickly climbed the stairs to join his loved one. He'd bought a bouquet of orchids, the favorites of the lady. But the blood froze in his veins when he walked into the bedroom. He dropped the flowers at the sight of his wife, or what was left of her. Naked on the bed now stained in red, her arms and legs were ripped out, and her eyes were just a void that still flowed the crimson liquid. Losing control, the man went outside and returned to the mansion in the company of a woman of the street, to whom he soon cut her arms and legs for sewing them to his beloved. He believed that, thus, she would return to life."

"Sure, and if by magic, or divine power." I laughed sarcastically. He looked at me sideways, and I covered my mouth as if telling him to continue, I would be silent.
"Well, after that, he ripped out the whore's eyes, fitting them into the empty sockets of his wife. He walled up the remains of the prostitute in the same bedroom, and lay on the bed the corpse of his beloved, surrounded by orchid petals, and still hoping that somehow she will revive. The next night, upon returning from work, he walked into the bedroom to see his beloved. But her body wasn't there, where it should be. He looked around the room until finding it under the bed, staring at him with the quiet of her brand new eyes, but again dismembered. Terrified, he stood up, and then noticed two rotten cold hands covering his eyes, and a female broken voice whispered in his ear: 'my darling, death here awaits'."

"And you believe that?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I don't know, but they say that each night, you can still hear the beating of his heart." He got up, approaching to one of the stone coffins, and bending over to attach the ear to it.
In that moment, came a gust of wind that blew out all the candles and shut the slightly open door suddenly, making me stifle a scream. The boy took my hand and ran me out of there. We didn't slow down until we crossed the threshold of the mausoleum, panting, exhausted because of the race. Together we stood against one of the cemetery's walls, resting for a few seconds.

"Not bad." He laughed, breathlessly. "Admit that you got scared."
"It was only by the coup of the door." I defended myself.
"But you got scared." He insisted, standing in front of me.
"Bleeeeh." I groaned, without having any intention to agree.
Without letting go of my hand, he raised his stare to the nocturnal sky, illuminated by the full moon. I looked into his eyes, and his skin looked even paler under the moonlight. I was spellbound staring at him, until he got me away of my dream when he broke the silence:
"I guess I must go." He said softly, almost in a whisper. "And it seems that you too must go home."
He got to my face, until his lips touched mine. Without having the slightest idea why, I closed my eyes and let myself go. And, when I opened them, he had disappeared into the darkness of the night.

Emilie Scarlett & Juliet Rose.