Page 64 of The Death of Kisses

54

SHE LOVED YOU

Present day - November 22nd - Town of Ashwood - Population 1,576 - 18 yrs old

The paper sack swayed gently from my wrist with each step, its corners damp with the cool fog of condensation that clung to the chilled bottles nestled inside. On top, the Blueberry Pop-Tarts rested peacefully, just the way Lilly loved them—carefully cherished, a small, fragile symbol of her warmth and kindness that I clung to greatly.

A tender smile softened my lips, warm yet bittersweet, aching with what was lost and what still remained.

She’d be overjoyed, I thought, her face lighting up with joy, her heart bursting with love.

As the cabin peeked through the whispering trees ahead, a strange, uneasy knot clenched tight in my chest.

Faint tendrils of smoke curled lazily from the chimney, drifting into the sky like a silent cry.

A flicker of confusion clouded my mind, a disorienting shadow I couldn't shake.

I don’t remember leaving the fireplace burning, I thought frantically, the memory slipping away like grains of sand.

The black bike sat parked at the top of the driveway, mud coating its side, a faint trace of red marking its right flank—Lee’s bike.

No.

My feet hit the gravel before I even realized I’d stopped, pounding the steps with a rush of urgency.

“What did you do, Charlotte?” The words blurted out before the door had fully closed behind me.

His figure loomed in the living room, blocking any view of Lilly, blocking any hope.

“You can’t take her.”

“You’ve nearly killed her,” he whispered.

“Move out of the way,” I begged, my voice slicked with fear. I can't let him take her again—not this time! No! The bag slipped from my grasp, crashing to the ground, milk bottles shattering, poptarts scattering in a chaotic mess.

“Please,” I begged with everything I had, “Please don’t take her away from me again!” A frail cry broke free from my lips, full of anguish and helplessness. He shifted just enough to catch a glimpse of her—wrapped tightly in a blanket, her delicate frame terrified, eyes shut tight, bruises marring her tiny arms.

No! Not this again!

My hand reached for the armoire, searching intensely for the revolver that had been always hidden there—my last safeguard. Fear twisted inside me, a venomous snake coiling around my heart, constricting with every beat as I clasped the cold, unforgiving handle of the gun.

“Charlie,” Lee warned, his voice urgent and worried, but I couldn’t look at him—I couldn’t let him take Lilly. Not a second more. Not again.

The barrel crashed into my temple with brutal force, as if the very weight of my guilt and despair were being hammered into my skull, trying to drown out the chaos inside me. I clawed frantically for some shred of clarity, some way to hold onto reason amidst the storm of agony ripping through my chest.

“She loved you!” I bellowed, hot tears flooding down my face like rivers of grief that refused to be contained. My voice cracked, raw with the pain of losing her all over again.

“Charlie, put the gun down,” Lee commanded with that maddening calmness—always so damned calm. Doesn’t he see? Doesn’t he see he’s tearing her away from me all over again? My breath hitched, sadness clawing at my throat. And then the cold steel pressed against my head again, sending a shiver of icy dread racing through every nerve in my body. Blood blurred my vision, seeping into my eyes, blinding me with horror.

She can’t die again. I won’t let it happen. I sobbed, the agony spilling out of me in uncontrollable waves. The ache in my chest was unbearable, a relentless pounding that echoed the unbreakable love I still carried for her.

Lee stepped forward, and instinctively I staggered back, fear and fury fighting in my chest.

“Charlie, let’s just talk about this,” he urged gently, but his words felt hollow against the pounding chaos inside me.

I didn’t want to talk. I wanted her—Lilly. Her face, her voice, her touch. I needed her to stay, to fight for her life, for us.

“She chose you in the end,” I croaked through my tears, each one a testament to the years of pain I’d bottled up, now pouring out like molten lava—hot, heavy, unstoppable. I couldn’t stop the flood.