As the clock struck eleven PM, Willow read the words, "the end" and quietly shut the book. The book would not have taken her so long, if not for her parents prying her out of it to eat dinner with them. But now she had finally finished it, and she sat on her bed in silence. "I did it," she though, "I killed her, it was all my wish..." But not a tear stained Willow's face. She knew it was a sad story, and she had to admit it was a wonderfully written book, but she could not force out the tears that remained hidden behind a could of emotions. She felt a strong feeling of remorse, after all, she knew Satine's death was her fault, or at least she believed that it was. And if possible, from the story she had fallen even deeper in love with Christian. She worshiped every word that fell onto the page, because she knew that it had once passed through his mind. And she loved him for the love that he had bestowed upon Satine. The love that she wished had been bestowed upon her. And this brought her to her most overwhelming emotion of all. Jealousy. She was more jealous of Satine that she had been of anyone in her life. She loathed her with such a passion that it frightened her.

"She didn't deserve him," Willow thought, "No, he deserved much better, he wasted his love on her." And now, Willow knew Christian would never love her, nor anyone else for that matter, and the jealousy and hatred boiled through her veins. And still, Willow was dry eyes, not even able to shed one tear for the love that she had just witnesses, and would never attain.

After a night of restless sleep, and terrible, painful dreams, Willow arose from her bed, with the weight of a thousand heartbreaks placed firmly on her chest, and began to prepare herself for Christian's arrival. She told him to come around eleven thirty, when her parents were off to tea at their friend's house. She did not want her parents to know how weak she was in letting Christian come back.

As punctual as ever, a ring reverberated through the house at exactly half past eleven and Willow slowly marched to the door.

"Good morning again Mr. James, you are quite punctual, please do come in for tea." Willow said without a hint of emotion.

After some uncomfortable small talk, and about five minutes of Christian fidgeting in his chair, he finally got the nerve to ask.

"So, um, I hope that my book explained some things to you Willow, um, Did you, um enjoy it?"

Willow looked into his eyes, they were so sad, he was not the happy young man he used to be, the past year had taken a great toll on him, and it hurt her to see him like this. She was about to tell him that she loved it, and that she was sorry for his loss, just to make him feel better, but then a streak of resentment ran through her mind, and she realized it.

If she could never have Christian, she was going to hurt him. And hurt him bad.

She took time in choosing a word, and finally, looking straight into his eyes, remarked, "It was amazing."

Christian blushed at this, and quickly looked down at his hands with modesty. "Oh, well, thank you, I didn't know it was THAT good, I just..."

But Willow quickly cut him off, "That wasn't a compliment."

"Oh..." he said with an air of disappointment.

"I meant," she stated cruelly, "that its amazing that Satine managed to get you to believe that she actually loved you! I mean, come on Christian, I knew you were gullible, but this! This..."

It was Christian's turn to cut off and he said in a shocked gasp, "Oh no, no, no, no! Satine loved me Willow! She did!"

"Oh please," snapped Willow, and then with a hint of sarcasm, she struck a pose and cried out, "Oh look at me! I'm the poor dying whore! *cough! cough!* I'm going to make one last gullible fool believe that I, a whore, actually love him! What a laugh this will be!"

"No," Christian pleaded, "Please, please stop." The pain in his voice normally would have startled Willow, but she was too far gone to care.

"You shut up!" Willow hissed, "I am not done yet! I cannot believe you thought she loved you!" Then after a pause, she continued with, "only someone as weak as I could love you."

But Christian's barely audible "no, please" only egged her one and she decided to continue. If she was going to be cruel, she better do a good job of it.

"You could have been great Christian," she muttered. "You could have been the world's greatest poet. You could have made some girl so happy. You could have spent your amazing love on someone who would appreciate it, but no. You chose a whore who didn't even believe in love. And now, a dead whore. And all your beautiful love has gone to waste. And you'll never love again will you?"

She peered at Christian, awaiting an answer, but all she got where his eyes, wide with shock and pain, and his mouth slightly agape as in a silent scream.

"No, of course you won't." She said, "you're in love with a ghost, a ghost who didn't even love you, and you'll be in love with her forever."

She looked at Christian again, waiting for him to do anything, slap her, scream, run out the door, but he just stood there, a map of pain etched across his face.

"You've wasted you love Christian," she hissed, "and I've wasted a year and a half of mine on you. I do not want to waste anymore..." and with a surge of energy she screamed "Take your goddamn book, about your goddamn whore, and get the hell out of my house! I never want to see you again!" She threw the book into his hands and shoved him out the door, slamming it directly in his face.

But this was not enough, she had to say one more thing to appease the rage storming through her heart. "It hurts doesn't it Christian?!" she screamed, "Maybe now you can understand how I've felt for the past year! I hate you! I HATE YOU!!"

Willow reeled around, surging with the sick pride and happiness one gets from hurting someone so badly. It swam through her body like a flood of boiling water, and a demonic grin spread across her lips.

But then she heard it. Christian's sobs. He ad collapsed on the other side of the door and the sound of his crying ripped through Willow. It washed away the sick pride ant tore through the shields around her heart as if they were made of nothing but paper. It was the saddest sound she had ever heard and she grabbed onto a chair for support.

"What have I done?" she gasped, "I've killed him, I've killed what was left of him..." She couldn't pull herself away from the chair, and every crushing sob sounded like another shard of his already broken heart had been slammed into even smaller pieces.

gasped for breath, trying to shut out the heart wrenching noises that were sliding from under her door. But through all the pain, and the sounds, and the feelings rushing through Willow's body, she realized something. How utterly inviting the gun that her father kept in his upstairs study was to her right now. It called to her, promising to end her heartbreak and pain forever.

And with a shuddering breath, and one tear gently rolling down her cheek, Willow Cohen stumbled up the stairs to her father's study, third door on the right.

And the sobbing continued.



The End.







Ooooooh, did everyone like ok? I hope so, if just hated the ending because it was sooo dark, then you can pretend it didn't happen, but before you pretend, could you review it first pleasies? I luuuuuv reviews! Hahaha