Chapter 11
Sentenced
The finale of the story "Run Devil Run"
Michael Jackson. Michael the-freaking-King-of-Pop Jackson. Think about Michael Jackson, Sammy! THINK.
How come I'm thinking of Michael Jackson? How come I'm thinking of John Lennon know? How come I can't stop thinking about them. Why? I honestly have no idea.
I'm suddenly having a flashback.
I really shouldn't, I had said.
He had given me a gentle push, steering me forward. You really should, he had said back.
I had glared at him. This isn't fair. I don't want to see him. I feel bad.
He had lowered his eyebrows a little. You feel bad? What did you have for breakfast? He nearly killed you!
For some reason, that conversation keeps running through my head. Why? I have no idea, again. These days I never seem to have an answer for anything.
John Lennon.
Michael Jackson.
He nearly killed you!
John Lennon.
Michael Jackson.
He nearly killed-
"Sammy?"
I look up. There he is! Casey. Casey's words keep replaying in my head. He nearly killed you.
"Casey, I can't do this." I shake my head. "I just can't."
"Sammy.." suddenly Casey looks upset, too. "I know. I know. It must be terrible for him. For you, too. It's unfair. He should have just gotten a life sentence for jail."
I still couldn't believe Cam had been tried and convicted for two murders. Back in Colorado, he apparently killed his little sister Jenna (he said it was by accident but that wasn't a good enough excuse, apparently) and a girl named Sofia who apparently had sickle-celled anemia and died from blood loss, from one of his knife slashes at her. I never knew. That's creepy. Scary. He hadn't been caught until now? How? How did people get away with these things?
Apparently three anonymous (to the public) sources ratted him out with good proof. They had brought taped phone conversations in which Cam is discussing the killings to someone else (the anonymous to public source).
I still couldn't handle seeing Cam for the last time ever. I think I was going to faint, I couldn't believe what was going to happen next.
I knew this was illegal in California. Or so I heard. Apparently, according to some people, it was. I never looked it up, but I guess this only legal in states with big cities (like New York, Massachusetts, Washington, Illinois) and illegal in only a couple. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it was legal in California. Maybe it wasn't.
One thing for sure? It was legal in Colorado. And since Cam is a resident of Colorado, not California, and since the two killings happened in Colorado, this was allowed for Cam.
The jury thought this is what he deserved.
So he had finally been sentenced.
Casey pulls me along on my arm gently, and I stop before the big gray door. His face is solemn. "Good luck in there. Don't let it get to you. Say your final farewell and come back to me. I'll be waiting here- I don't care if you take two minutes or six hours, I'll be here. I'll check on you every ten minutes, okay? I don't want you to strangle yourself or anything."
I gave a little tear-stained smile. "Thanks." wasn't Casey the best boyfriend ever?
I headed inside the door. The big metal bars were creepy.
I found Cam, in his orange jumper suit, looking sullen and alone. His hair was tousled and messy as usual. His blue eyes seemed duller than ever. What had happened?
"Hey." he says as he looks up at me.
"Hi." his blue eyes meet my green. I'm officially scared of him and I want to run, far, far away.
I take ahold of a bar for support, because my knees feel so wobbly and weak that they can't even support me to stand up. Oh God, I can't do this. I just can't.
"Cam..." my voice is shaky. His body isn't just a body anymore. It has an outline. A faint outline. Suddenly I can see him for real. Tears are running down my face. "Oh, Cam. I don't know what to say."
He looks at his hands. "Say goodbye. Say good luck. Tell me you'll spit on my grave."
"I wouldn't." I say, cautiously. "The spitting thing, I mean. I would never do that."
He snorts a little. "I'm planning on being cremated anyway."
"Oh." the words are stuck in my throat. Oh Lordie. Oh sweet Jesus. I want to die right here. I want to melt into the Earth and...
"You'll be there, won't you?"
I covered my face. "I don't want to. I won't. Tell me I shouldn't."
"I want you to come." he whispers, and he puts his rough hands over mine on the bar I'm holding. "I think it'll make it better for me."
"Why? You tried to kill me." I'm sobbing now.
He locks eyes with me. "I know, Sam!" he starts freaking out suddenly. "I love you! I do! I love you! But I'm mental, Sam. I have a problem. Maybe its not a real problem that doctors can diagnose but I swear its a problem. Its a problem for me! I love you. I couldn't stand to see you with him."
I knew he meant Casey. But what is he talking about. Cam was a jerk to me. He never loved me. He was lying right now. He was a manipulator. I couldn't fall for this.
He continues, "I couldn't stand to see you with anyone else. I may not have shown it, but I love you. Maybe I was mean. Sorry. I wasn't good with emotions. I'm hardwired into mean, okay? I couldn't live the rest of my life knowing you'd be with him. Or other guys. Of course, I could have just killed him, but then you could move on to another guy! And another! You'd grow up. There was no way of keeping you to myself, and since I couldn't have you, no one could. I thought I should save myself the pain of knowing you'll be with someone else and just get rid of you altogether."
Oohhhh Loooooooordie.
I think I just fainted.
Cam was insane. He truly was. He was mental. Either he was telling the truth and mental, or he was lying and desperate.
I think Casey eventually peeked in, saw me in the fetal position on the ground, and carried me out. I think.
He shot Cam a sympathetic-yet-dirty look. I think.
Fuck. My. Life. I think.
Back at home...
"I CAN'T!" I'm screaming at everyone. "ARE YOU ALL CRAZY? HAVE YOU NO HEARTS?"
Casey is across the counter from me, leaning on it, and I can see his perfect muscular arms. The hair on his arms are lighter than his regular hair. Probably the sun. Casey calmly says, "Sammy. It's fine. Cam told me he wanted you there. He said it would be worse for him if you weren't. Don't you want to make this easier for him?"
My dad, "He's a killer, he is! You're right Samantha. Don't go."
Marissa, "Ohmygawd. I might faint. This is disgusting. I'm leaving." (she grabs her purse and bolts. Danny follows, snatching his car keys off the counter).
Casey blinks at me, twice. He looks so sorry for me. I can tell he really feels bad.
My dad is storming around the kitchen, making a fool of himself.
Billy is standing next to me, keeping me from falling down. Regularly this would be Casey's role, but today Casey can't help. Because as much as he's trying to feel bad for me, I know that he's secretly a tiny bit happy that Cam will finally be off my back forever.
I know Cam is a killer. I know he's manipulative and weird. But for some reason, I can't help but not hate him. It's like my whole world is crashing down around me- I used to be obsessed with him and now I'm obsessed about seeing him go. I don't want to. Ever. I want him to go back to Colorado, safe. I want him to change. I want something better for him. It's like no matter where I turn, he's still behind me, staring at me. Mona Lisa-ing me. He's there. His manipulative eyes are there. Watching me. I can't run from him. I try. I can run, I can run, but I can't hide. I'm like a devil. A reformed devil that's learned her lesson. And he's Satan, chasing after me, wanting to burn me to ashes. (Oh, and Casey's my god but I won't tell anyone that because it's too cheesy).
I grab Billy tightly and I'm sobbing. My dad looks baffled and confused. "Why is she crying...?"
I don't think Casey had the heart to tell my dad the truth about how I felt about all this Cam stuff, so he lied for me: "Uh...one of those girl-mood-swings..?" he says to my dad.
"Can I come back later when she's not so...emotional?" my dad whispers to Casey.
I guess Casey let him leave, because next thing I know, I'm being hugged from two sides. Casey from the back, Billy from the front I can't see them, but I can tell who is who by the way they hug me. Billy is friend-sympathetic hugging me and Casey is boyfriend-sympathetic hugging me. There's a difference, I swear.
Michael Jackson.
John Lennon.
Michael Jackson.
John Lennon.
Michael Jackson.
John Lennon.
I keep thinking of them! And why? I don't get it.
Is it because I love John Lennon and I cry whenever I hear the sad story of his death? And because I spent over 48 hours crying because of Michael Jackson's death, when he died?
Or is it because I can't stand to think about the death of people I love? John Lennon was amazing. His whole message was amazing. And Michael Jackson was also amazing. He is a legend. I love them. I can't bear to think of their death. It's painful. I feel so bad, all the time.
I tried to picture what I'd do if Casey would die. An unreal scenario would be me crying and crying and crying and eventually getting over it and moving on and marrying another guy or something. A real scenario would be me going crazy, ripping my hair out, and killing myself.
Okay. Okay. I need to calm down. Maybe I wouldn't kill myself, but I'd probably never date again, or ever marry at all.
I tried picturing what I'd do if Marissa died. I'd probably be in denial and go a little mental in my head. I have no idea.
I continue to sob into Billy's chest (I didn't reach up to his shoulder. No, he's not abnormally tall; I'm just a little short.)
Suddenly I feel myself being picked up by the waist and picked up and turned around. Casey is giving me a small smile. He's lifting me up, and I wonder how he does it? Is he really that strong? Probably. I avoid looking at his arms, I bet his muscles are bulging right now on them, by picking me up. I can't look, I know I'd probably stare like a freak.
Casey is looking at me with a peculiar expression. "Is something wrong?" I ask, fingering a lock of his tousled dark hair.
Casey cracks a little smile. "Yes. My girlfriend was crying. I don't want that."
I smile back a little, trying to forget about Cam. "You don't?"
He squeezes my waist. "You're crazy." he murmurs, "Of course I don't want to see you cry. Even though you just came back this summer, that doesn't mean I barely know you. I know you very well, Sammy Keyes."
"Oh?"
"Yes. And I know for a fact that you'll make it through all of this. I have complete confidence in you." he moves me in until I'm literally inches away from him. Casey's lips are so close to mine now that I could feel the barely-there touch.
Billy coughs. Loud.
Casey suddenly lets go of me, I completely blush, and suddenly I'm remembering Cam again.
Ooohh. I might be sick.
Casey glares at Billy. "I was trying to distract her, so she wouldn't cry again. What was that for?"
Billy rolled his eyes. "Distract her by what, showing off your biceps and then making out with her?"
Casey punches him. "We didn't even kiss. And shut up, before I pound your face in."
I sit down at the table and put my head down. Then I scream. Loud. Long.
My dad has rushed in by the time I'm done.
"SAMANTHA KEYES HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND? YOU ALMOST GAVE ME A HEART ATTACK!"
I sighed.
After a few moments of calming down, Dad was gone again, leaving the Sammy-comforting to Billy and Casey.
I stood up and straightened out my clothes. Then I went and stood by Casey, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'll get through with it. I will. I hope."
He was giving me this funny look- he looked half-pained, half-starstruck. His hand immiedetly swerved to hold me also, but I stood away. "Listen, Casey. I feel sick, and I kind of just want to be alone right now. If you don't mind. I...I...if I want to attend, I'm going to have to recompose myself."
Casey didn't seem fazed. He grabbed Billy's arm and said, "Dude. Let's leave her alone now, okay?" he gave me a quick peck on the cheek and then dragged Billy out.
Sometimes having a boyfriend like Casey is too easy. After they were gone I headed to my room upstairs and buried my face in my pillow. I hadn't seen the whole trial but it had happened and I knew the result. I was too scared to think of what would become of Cam. I mean, I know he was terrible to me and I know he tried to kill me, kind of.
But there's something about him that makes me want to give him a second chance.
Everyone needs a second chance at least once. Making a mistake once will not guarantee that you will make it again. Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone makes the wrong choices.
Sometimes your life is put out on a spreadsheet in front of you, and your total budget is very small. You make the first choice you get to keep your costs in the budget. Some people take the hard way and make the right decisions and face the hard obstacles in life so they can achieve everything on their own. Other people look at their life, spread out so evenly on a blank canvas, and then they look at their small budget and think they can never get through it. They make the wrong choice; the choice to cheat people from their own budgets. The choice to do things that will hurt others but possibly benefit you.
Unless you get caught, of course.
Cam chose the second way. He chose to cheat people of their dignities and rights.
Like, the right to live.
But now his life is on the spreadsheet again, and he can clearly see where his decision landed him.
A dead end.
I feel like everyone needs another chance. You make one wrong decision but you learn from it. What other way to know something is wrong than to have experienced it yourself?
Cam may have been a cheater in life, but he doesn't deserve his sentence. He's now being cheated.
The jury is just as bad as him, choosing this as his sentence. They think he deserves this? Who are they to think who deserves the right to live?
My dad got a second chance. He made the wrong decisions. He screwed up big time. He faced the consequences. For example, one major consequence in his life was me. He never expected me to be here this day, he never knew his life would be like this. That's the consequence to the decision he made with my mother 16 years ago.
My mother got a second chance, from me, actually. I used to hate her and mistrust her for leaving me alone with Grams here and even for dating Casey's dad at a point. But I gave her a second chance later and she even ended up breaking up with Warren and telling me who my father is.
And last but not least, I got a second chance. I know I've done things I shouldn't have. Everyone has. I feel the guilt everyday, and I don't know why but it hurts to even think about my choices. When I was in Colorado, what was I thinking? Who was I? Was I the same Sammy? Yes. I was just making the wrong choices. Was I so depressed from moving away that I didn't even know who I was anymore? Who I wanted to become? Everything I stood for?
I broke the trust of people I love and I fixed them back up, and I would never have been able to fix them if it weren't for the idea of second chances. For example, if Casey hadn't ever givem me a second chance, we'd never be together. But he gave me another chance.
Now when I make a decision I think of my moral values and why I'm doing it in the first place. I'm talking about big decisions, like what I'm going to be when I grow up.
And before that, what college do I go to?
Should I even go to college?
Should I marry?
When?
Really? What if I don't really love him?
What if I do?
Do I even want to marry?
What about kids? Do I want kids? How many kids? With who? Casey? Will I even still be with Casey in ten years? Do I love him enough to raise a child with him? And again, what about college?
Those are the decisions I'm talking about.
And I want Cam to have another chance to make decisions.
Maybe he'll make the right decisions?
And was he lying about loving me? Or was he telling the truth? Did he really love me so much that he wanted to kill me because he couldn't stand the thought of me being with Casey? I will probably never know.
Nope. I will never know if Cam was lying or telling the truth. Maybe he was telling the truth. I mean, what reason do you have to lie when you're in jail, right? When you know you won't be alive for very long, anyway. You'll be gone before you can even figure out if you've been fooling yourself about you this whole time.
You be gone before you know it...
"SAMMY! WAKE UP!" Dad bellowed in my ear.
I jumped up and screamed a high-pitched, girly scream that could break windows. Someone grabbed my shoulders and began to massage them. I could suddenly hear Casey's deep voice breathing in my ears, his warm breath close to my neck: "Shh. We woke you up to get you ready. It's time."
Oh, no. Nononono. It's time. I think I'm going to scream again. I can't believe I actually fell asleep last night. And now it's morning and time for...ugh.
Casey was whispering soothing things into my ears as he massaged my shoulders and Dad was digging through my tyrannical mess of a closet to find me something to wear. Casey and Dad spoke at the same time.
Casey, "You need something to drink? Water? Milk?" (ew, milk?)
Dad, "Sammy don't you own any skirts?"
Me: "Casey, no thank you. And Dad, NO WAY! And I can get dressed fine myself. Now leave."
Dad gave Casey a small little smile and Casey stopped rubbing my shoulders. "I have to go wait downstairs." he said nervously. "You're father doesn't trust me."
"Of course I don't." Dad commented, "You're a nice guy, but I wouldn't even trust you alone with my daughter even if you were...Martin Luther King Junior, or Gandhi, or someone."
As Casey headed out with my dad I heard him ask, "What if I was George Washington?"
My dad snaps, "No!"
"Barack Obama?"
"No!"
"The Pope?"
"No, Casey!"
"What about Jesus? What if I was Jesus Christ? Would you trust me then? And you can't say you wouldn't trust me. There's a reason they call her Virgin Mary!"
My dad thought about that a moment. I could still hear their voices down the hall as Dad laughed and said, "Still no! Sammy's definitely not a 'Mary'."
In my head I thought, Or a virgin.
Okay. The voices were gone. It was time to get dressed. Hmm. What does one wear when they are attending the death of another?
I had nothing formal at all. I finally called Marissa up.
"What could you possibly need at six am?" she grumbled into the phone.
I said the sentence she'd been begging me to say ever since we met: "Marissa. Fashion emergency. I need you're help ASAP. What do I wear today to...you know what."
She was definitely up now. "I'll be over in ten." she said into the phone, a strange little happy perk to her voice.
Sure enough, Marissa was over in ten, with Danny who had given her the ride over here.
When she and I were both alone in my room she pulled out a makeup bag.
"Oh holy crap, no. No, no. No makeup." I backed up. "I swore off any type of makeup, remember? My reformation plan?"
Marissa shook her head. "You look just as dead as he will be. We need to make you look livelier. Your baggy eyes. Your pasty face. You look pretty, but like a zombie."
I rolled my green eyes. "Whatever you say, goddess Marissa."
She smirked. "Don't doubt me, weakling. I can kick your little toned butt any day in the fashion department."
"And I can kick your couture-jeans-clad butt any day in general." I replied.
She laughed. "Okay. Okay. Take off your clothes."
I looked down at my My Chemical Romance concert tee and black Adidas pants. "Why? Aren't you only doing makeup on my face?"
She rolled her eyes. "Your face is ghostly pale. I need to match the skin tone to the rest of you."
I shrugged. "Okay, whatever you say." I stepped out of my pants and yanked off my shirt.
As she studied my bare arms and shoulders carefully and compared it to my face, I shivered. "It's cold." I complained, getting goose bumps all over. I was freezing standing in my underwear and bra. "Let me get cloooothed." I shivered.
"Hold on!" she snapped. I looked down at my bare legs. God it was so cold in the morning, especially on the top floor. Goosebumps!
She pulled out something from her tote bag. "Wear this." she handed me a folded outfit.
I unfolded it to find a black skirt that ended right above the knees, and a carefully ironed button down floral print formal blouse. To top it all off, there was a navy blazer to wear on top of it.
Well. At least it want some pink power suit, like I imagined her to bring.
I reluctantly pulled on the outfit and then Marissa pulled out two pairs of shoes from her bag. "You pick. Black pumps or gray flats?"
I reached for the flats quicker than a toddler grabs a Tickle-Me-Elmo.
Marissa began spreading creamy foundation all over my skin and especially under my eyes to remove the baggy raccoonness. She pinned back my choppy bangs with dark brown bobby pins that matched my hair color. She didn't put any eyeliner, eyeshadow, mascara, lipstick on me, and I appreciated that.
Finally she allowed me to look in the mirror.
And wow. I looked...nice. Not overdone at all. Just perfect, like I cared a lot but didn't dress up like I was going to an interview. I couldn't wait for Casey to see me. Finally! My gorgeous boyfriend would get to see me look all un-zombie-like!
And when I did go downstairs and Casey saw me, you bet he was pleased. He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me deeply until Dad started "hacking" very loud.
Casey and I pulled apart. I wondered why everyone was so against us kissing.
Marissa and Danny bid their farewells and then it was just me, Casey, and Dad. Casey grinned a small, grim smile and said, "I should get home to get ready now. See you there." he suddenly seemed very stony.
And so did I.
Oh my God. Today was such a terrible day. Imagine how Cam feels.
Not so great. I can guarantee that.
Not so great.
Finally Dad put me in the car and drove me. And drove me. And drove me.
I finally asked quietly, "What are they using?"
Dad was suddenly a little silent. "I tried requesting the poison but no one cared about my opinion. They're doing the chair."
Oh, God.
The electric chair.
I wanted to break down in a fit. I wanted to run and grab Cam and tell him even though I didn't love him like that, I still cared.
I still cared.
I don't care who he is or why. No one deserves the death sentence.
We both arrived and Casey was there, in a suit, looking remarkably handsome.
Handsome. Did I just say that? There must be something wrong with my brain. I am about the watch the death of Cam and I'm noticing Casey's handsome-ness?
Anyway, Casey greeted me with a series of short but very passionate kisses. He stopped and told me how beautiful he thought I looked at the moment. Usually I would like that. Today nothing was comforting. Not even Casey's kisses. Okay, maybe his secure, comforting arm around me was...but other than that, not even meeting Gerard Way would make me feel any better.
After all of the important short statements were over, Cam was suddenly brought out to the front of the room.
His full name, Cameron Something Stalin.
Hair color, black.
Eye color, blue.
Age, 17.
Birth date, July 9th, 1993.
Death date... August 18th, 2010.
And then our eyes locked.
He looked at me with those manipulatively piercing blue eyes. He didn't seem to be saying any words to me with his eyes. Usually he'd be ordering or pleading or warning me with his creepy blue eyes. Today, he was silent. He knew his fate and I knew his fate. I looked at him with my green eyes. I wanted to do something. Anything. But for once in my lifetime of miraculous ideas, I had no clue what to do.
And then he was put on the chair, hands locked in place on the side. His eyes lowered down to stare at his lap. His balled up fists just suddenly relaxed.
And for once in his life of cruelty and harshness, Cam looked afraid.
.
Nooooooo. Noooooo.
I couldn't let this happen.
He couldn't die.
No. Please. No.
Casey suddenly grabbed me and hugged me against his chest. I didn't realize the tears dripping down my face, ruining Casey's suit. Casey didn't care about his suit, though. He cared about me. Well right now? I cared about Cam's life.
Cam's yell of pain was echoing across the room. I screamed so loud into Casey's chest, I probably burst one of his lungs with my voice so loud. Casey's grip tightened on me and as I struggled to pull my face away from being buried against his chest, I could feel Casey holding me there, not letting me go. In any other circumstance this would have been weird. What kind of boyfriend would force his girlfriend to not let her face move away from against him so she could possibly suffocate?
But today was different. Casey was trying to keep me from breaking free from his chest and looking at Cam. He wanted me to not see Dead Cam. I wanted to see Dead Cam, one last time I wanted to see Cam. Casey kept my head in place. I was no match for him. Have you ever seen his arms? If you haven't, you should know they're pretty damn muscular.
Even though I wanted to see Cam's body, I knew that if I did, I would probably start screaming and having a fit and have a nervous break down right there on the spot. Even I- the girl who had been trapped in a gang banger's basement when I was thirteen- cannot handle seeing the dead body of a boy I once knew. Casey knew me too well. I clutched onto his arms, actually, his sleeves- I was probably wrinkling his suit. He didn't seem to care.
After a couple minutes of just standing there, breathing in the smell of Casey's cologne, I felt a big hand on my shoulder.
My dad coughed a little behind me. Casey gently let me go. I couldn't see my dad behind me, but I knew he was glaring at Casey for him to let me go. Casey completely ignored this (aww) and gently wiped my half-dried face of tears with his hands. Then he softly kissed me for a quick moment. After that he sort of stepped away, as if he was giving me back to my dad or something. I looked at the electric chair Cam had been in. No one. They had taken him away. But all of a sudden for the first time ever since I met him, my dad smiled at Casey and actually said, "Mr. Acosta, would you be kind enough to escort my daughter home?" (on normal circumstances my dad preferred driving me over Casey driving, whenever he could. It's a Dad thing).
Casey looked a little surprised but didn't let it faze him. "My pleasure." he said to Dad. Casey stepped back toward me.
I looked up at Casey, who wasn't crying like I had been but looked disturbed enough. Obviously. Boys never cried in front of people. Especially their girlfriends. Okay, this was a stereotype but still. Boys tried to stay strong and comfort the girl, not cry along with her. That would destroy the purpose of his role as a boyfriend.
"He needed a second chance." I whispered to only Casey.
Casey nodded slowly, looking down at me so carefully with his adorable wide brown eyes. I didn't know what he was thinking, but I could suddenly feel a weird warm glow inside me. I'm glad I'm back. I'm not glad Cam's dead, but. I'm glad I'm back. I have Casey here.
I buried my face into Casey's chest again. And now I could feel my dad's hand on my shoulder, slowly patting me to comfort me.
"He needed another chance." I muffled again, this time into Casey's shirt.
Cam was gone forever, and I knew it. We all knew it.
He would never get his second chance.
I would never know if he had been lying to me or not.
But Casey was here, and he loved me.
And my dad was trying to be a good dad, no matter how bad he was with dealing with feelings.
And I somehow predicted a better future for me. Because this was my second chance. I wouldn't put it to waste. Not all people are lucky enough to even get a second chance.
I've finally escaped from Cam's race of the devils. I'm out, and I'm free. I've escaped.
I know I will survive. It sounds cheesy and I know it is, but I know that there is always going to be something better for everyone at the end of the road. You just have to choose the right way to live your life on that blank canvas.
Cam may have chosen the wrong way, and maybe he was brutally punished for it, but what can we do about that except for to fix our own mistakes? To realize from what has been done?
If Cam had been lying to me, so be it. If he hadn't been lying, so be it. I'd never know the real truth. I don't think I ever wanted to. I'd live my life different now. With Casey. With my dad. Maybe one day I would know how it feels so be up close and personal with Casey and not some guy I don't even know's name. Maybe one day I'll be able to have a better relationship with my dad. Maybe one day I'll be able to get into a college of my choice. Maybe one day I'll be married and have a child. Maybe one day I'll have a job and live in an apartment or house that I pay for myself. Or with a husband? Who knows?
No one. Not yet.
I shouldn't even think about my future when I've just escaped the past. Everybody has some sort of devil inside them, just waiting for the right moment to spring out. Some people contain their devil inside themselves forever, and some people accidentally let it loose depending on the choices they make. I've finally run past my devil, escaping it's wrath. And that devil can run. It can run to me as much as it wants to. It can chase me forever. But now that I'm past it, I won't ever look back. I've made my mistakes but I'm getting another chance, a chance without the devil.
I know I shouldn't be thinking about my future at all, but as I looked up at Casey and into his beautiful brown eyes, I saw a better future for me and Casey, for my dad, for everyone. Second chances are here for revising all the mistakes you've made, for fixing the little errors.
Cats have nine lives.
Humans have second chances.
This was my second chance.
Ready...set...go.
And that concludes the finale of the story "Run Devil Run"
A/N: How was it? This is my favorite chapter out of them all. I really, really hoped you liked it. I put a lot of effort into this one. The detail, descriptions, I tried to make everything a little sharper than my regular writing. I tried to make some of it actually appeal to the readers (you guys) so you guys can apply it to personal experiences and get a good feel of the story. I'm sounding like an English teacher now, sorry, I just really love writing. Please comment on this chapter I'm begging you. I spent forever writing it! (: (ps: Yes, I took the Epilogue out of this story. I had originally written one but it made the story end choppily so I'll leave it at this)