Chapter Twenty-Five – Broken Hearted

Bobby was walking to the shop with Lewis, his mind still in turmoil. His friend had been unable to get him to open up about that night. Lewis just watched him with concern. Bobby had always been quiet and serious, but something was seriously wrong now, Lewis was sure. Bobby had refused to comment when Lewis asked about his torn knuckles, making him wonder what on earth could possibly have brought such a violent reaction from his gentle friend.

The one thing that Bobby had learned from his encounter with Reece was that he needed to get a handle on his emotions. Never again could he allow himself to get that out of hand. There were few men who could take on his size and strength. Bobby could not respond to anger with violence ever again. The words Alex's father had shouted haunted him. You're going to kill him! … How far would you have gone if I hadn't gotten here?

The truth was; Bobby didn't know how far he would have gone. Until Reece was unconscious? Or worse? He was lucky Alex's father hadn't arrested him. But that wasn't what worried him. Not knowing where he would have drawn the line, or if he'd even been able to, scared him. Bobby vowed that from now on, he would use his words, only his words, no matter how enraged he felt. There were times when fists needed to be used in defense, but Bobby knew that he had fought because he was angry. Never again.

And then there was the matter of Alex. He was sure he would never get another letter from her again. He wanted to beg her to forgive him for whatever terrible misdeed he had committed, but he knew he couldn't force her to read a letter from him, nor could he bring himself to face her again.

He still didn't even know what he wanted to do. Maybe he wouldn't go to college. He couldn't afford to. Maybe he would just try and pick up another job, or more hours. The only problem with that was that Bobby now had the incredible urge to run away. He needed to escape the city, escape his past, and start over. But how could he?

He suddenly stopped short. Lewis paused a few steps ahead, looking back at his friend. "Bobby?" he asked.

But Bobby's attention was captured by the poster in the window of the building. It was a recruitment office. Bobby's mind spun, bringing back vague childhood memories of wanting to be a police officer. The army wasn't the NYPD, but being a cop would remind him too much of his childhood days with Alex. He wanted to move forward, not dwell on the past.

Another thought struck him as he stood outside the building. He had heard that the army would sometimes pay for college. He would owe them a certain amount of time after that, but that was no problem. He had no firm ties here anyway. He could fund his mother's care from overseas if he had to. It was such a perfect solution he wondered why he hadn't thought of it before. He made a mental note to stop by the office when he had more time, then continued on his way.

Lewis had watched Bobby examine the posters with the first spark of life in his eyes that Lewis had seen in days. If joining the army gave his friend purpose, than Lewis was more than happy to encourage him, though he would miss his companionship if he went far away.

Only one thing held Bobby back from feeling excitement. Leaving would mean admitting that he would never see Alex again. And as much as he thought it to be true, confirming it by making plans to leave was still painful.

Alex sat on her bed with her knees drawn up, hugging her legs. She still wasn't sure what she could possibly tell Bobby. It had been weeks since the incident, and she still hadn't received a letter from him. Not that she really expected to. She knew she needed to tell him something, and had started writing several times but had been unable to finish.

She got up and crouched by her bed, reaching under to pull out the shoebox filled with letters from Bobby that she kept there. She began absentmindedly sorting through them when she came across the short story.

Alex leaned back, reading it again. At the time, she had read the beginning, and thought that the two main characters had vaguely resembled the two of them. Then she had kept reading about how Luther had lost the one he loved and wondered if Bobby was using the story as a way to release his pain about the breakup with Maisie. She wondered if he had incorporated different amounts of his life into it. She had been so caught up in her own life at the time… with Jeremy and her friends. She had dismissed the very idea that he hadn't been writing about Maisie at all.

Had she suspected as much then? She tried to remember. There was the unsettling feeling that the story was based on his life, but she had brushed it aside, her only indication being that she wanted Luther to have a happy ending. She felt that Bobby deserved one too.

Dear Bobby,

I don't know if you're even reading this. I wish there was a way that I could explain. Where did the time go? I can remember so clearly all the time we spent together as little kids. But everything is so different now. I'm sure you've changed now; I know I have. But I'm writing you now in hopes that you can forgive me.

Let me tell you a story…

Broken Hearted

The day that the boy left was the saddest day the girl could ever remember. She had watched him disappear from her life with tears in her eyes, heartbroken. Though they found a way to communicate, it was never the same. At her twelfth year, the girl couldn't wait any longer. She set out to find her missing friend.

The boy had warned her to stay away. But the girl didn't listen. Filled with confidence, she set out anyway. The boy prepared to meet her, but in an effort to surprise him, she set out before their predetermined time.

When she reached the meeting place, she found not her friend, but Luther's mortal brother. She should have left. But she had never had a reason to fear before. Perhaps she was too trusting, too confident. Though she was uncertain, she willingly followed.

Just as Luther had, the demon of temptation still clinging to the brother saw the potential in the girl. But since she was not an angel, she was unable to see the demon hiding in the shadows. Her naivety made her vulnerable. The demon, seeing this weakness, began to cloud the mortal brother's judgement. What temptation could be greater than to spoil a potential angel? The girl fled in fear, before he could hurt her, and before she got to see her friend again.

But now, what to tell her friend? She thought perhaps ignorance is bliss. After all, even though she did not fully understand how the demon manipulated the brother, she did know that he was not completely in control. How could she hurt Luther again? Her friend had already suffered so much; not the least of which was the guilt for all the terrible things that had happened to him and those around him. Did he not realize that the fault was not his? Didn't he see that evil acted without his consent? Didn't he know the devil intended this outcome before he was ever made mortal?

But perhaps she should have said something. Because later she met her friend again, but now she was the one whose judgement was clouded. The girl's mind was shielded, so she did not recognize her friend. When she saw the old meeting place again years later, she feared that it was the brother who was there and ran away again.

The devil had been watching the girl, not to harm her, but to see the harm already done. But Luther, seeing her reaction and catching sight of the devil hiding in the shadows, misinterpreted the events. It wasn't until later that the girl found out what had become of her friend.

Crippled with grief and sorrow, the girl was determined to help her friend. It had been revealed to her that he was the demon of heartbreak, and she had best stay away. "Oh Luther," she said out loud. "Don't you see that the only way you cause me heartbreak is by staying away? It breaks my heart only to know you're in pain."

She was so determined to find a way to save her friend that she would break in to hell herself to find him. Demon or not, it didn't matter to her. Luther was Luther to her; her best friend. He was the one who had indulged her in all the childhood games she had wanted to play, the one who shared bright summer days with her, the one who developed special light signals to talk even at night. She doubted in the validity of his being a demon anyway. He had not ever been evil. He only took the blame for evil things that happened.

First, the girl needed to explain to explain to Luther what had happened. But what if he didn't want her anymore?

Writing didn't come as easily to Alex as it did to Bobby. She did her best to follow the design he had in his story, stopping and starting again, editing, re-phrasing. She broke off after putting into writing the outcome she feared. It stopped abruptly, incomplete. But then again, the story was incomplete. It depended on what Bobby did with this information.

Alex sealed the letter and sat in her room, staring into space. All she had to do was send it. Assuming, of course, that she could find the courage to do so.

For the first time in his life, Bobby was anticipating change. He had petitioned for early graduation, and had managed to be permitted to write his exams early. The school could mail him his diploma. He had no interest in walking across the stage with his classmates. For a student who had been barely passing the first half of his junior year, Bobby's grades in his senior year were phenomenal.

And then Bobby would be leaving. Leaving the city, leaving the state. He was starting at college during the summer semester, eager to get away. He only had to wait another two weeks, and then he'd be leaving everything behind. Bobby began flipping through his mail, muttering to himself. "Bills… junk…junk…" he broke off suddenly. He knew the handwriting on the front of the envelope well. He never imagined he would get another letter from Alex again.

Bobby dropped the rest of the mail onto the table. With shaking hands, he opened the envelope. What would Alex have to say to him?

He hardly breathed as he read the first paragraph of her letter. He detected no anger in it. If anything, the paragraph sounded sad. His heart hammered as he continued to read: Let me tell you a story…