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A Bitter Goodbye
With one look, my worst fears were confirmed.They had gotten to her first. Pinned to the wall by a great sword in her heart, her lifeless eyes told the same story as the singular stab wound. The pale complexion of her skin still complimented the endless expense of her jet-black hair, and the lightning yellow eyes like stars, that populated the endless abyss. Even the signs of struggle didn’t take away from her everlasting beauty. The bruises on her face that smeared makeup nor the hand prints on her neck could ever make her unrecognizable to me.
As I removed the weapon and lowered her down from her final resting place, the safe house walls seemed to lose a hue of color, the breeze from the open door behind me was a little colder, the world, overall, a little more gray.
My hand trembled as I punched the number into the phone. A wave of sadness washed over me as the phone rang, replacing the numbness with an insurmountable weight. I wanted nothing more than to break down and cry.
It wasn't supposed to go like this. I wasn’t supposed to fall for her; she became my escape without me knowing it. Everything about her was irreplaceable, and now, she is gone. The regular, normal, sweet, uninvolved girl I had known was no longer by my side.
The line connected, and Perry asked carefully, “Where's the damage, Reaper?”.
“Jane’s house.” I hung up before he said anything.
Something began to build, a hotness in my chest; it was peculiar. Ignoring it for the time being, I inspected the weapon.The beautiful gold encrusted hilt shimmered dimly in the low light; the blade so polished, I could see me own reflection
Lost in my own icy blue eyes, a memory came to me. I was looking at myself in the mirror, my messy stark white hair doing its best to cover the black and blue battlefield sprawled across my face. Stab wounds from past fights clashed with bullet scars that found their mark on my torso. I was in another safe house, awaiting orders from the higher ups. I moved to my window, frantically looking out to see if anyone was after me. That's when I saw her. Beauty incarnate, she was nervously walking behind Perry, who was dragging her by the hand, speeding through the crowd. I still never found out what they were doing there that day, but I watched, longingly knowing she would always dance just out of my grasp . No love for a killer I thought to myself. I looked on till they turned the corner. Then, I caught a glimpse of something, a magnificent gold hilt that gave way to a broad longsword.
Then, it hit me.I knew who it was. I was then reminded of the rage, the pure hatred, that had been building in me. How dare they! Does he not know what he's done! He has massacred her!
Vowing nothing short of revenge, I took my leave. Now powered by unquenchable anger smoldered inside me, and I had nothing left to lose.
As I made my exit, a floorboard creaked. I steeled my resolve and readied for a fight, but no one charged me.
“Come out now and pay for what you have done, Perry,” I barked to the shadow in the corner.
“You'll have a quick death if you show yourself now.”
A sniffle rang out, and soon, a soft weeping as the figure came into the light. Shock hit me in the heart. It was Mary. I was completely disarmed, she began to sob over the corpse, her slender form laying softly on her chest and identical hair dancing somberly in the winter breeze. She was Jane's spitting image.
Moving forward and reaching out to her, she flinched. She had seen it all. Eventually, she gave way, and I pulled her into a hug. Then, as my fury began to dissipate, the sorrow came back, and my guard was down.
”No child should have to witness this, especially her own daughter, ”my voice cracked as the words came out.
I began to cry in her arms, as sirens came into earshot.
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My name is Garrett Hogan and I am a graduating Senior at Croatan High school, This will probably be my last chance to be able to publish to Teen Ink, and I am excited to submit this piece. The following short story is from my Creative Writing class that I thought was particularly well-written.