Somewhere, this is happening

(Previously published in Beyond the Imagination Magazine)

           And somewhere a kid, alone, is writing what is happening. He could be going mad in his small apartment, with families and neighbors behind every wall. Children scream and run like a stampede through the halls above him, but he continues on, ignoring the calls of madness. He knows the mad ones. They who drift, drift off into a consciousness that is warm and comforting. Peering into the void and it cries out for them; a siren's song.

            They answer.

            Eleven AM on a Sunday and a phone rings. It rings until it doesn't. Liam Disraeli rises like a B film mummy from out of the sheets, letting them fall to reveal his one bedroom apartment. His head throbs like a shotgun wound. Suggestions of last night are camera flashes in the brain, beer bottles on the ground, vomit under the bed, atmospheric grease fires of burnt hair and dry rot. He presses his feet to the floor and lets the cold curl around his toes, thinks of Bukowski and asks himself, 'What now?' Stepping lightly over dissipated corpses cluttering the hard wood, he makes it to the toilet. The porcelain gods appreciate his offering of last nights drunken affair. He stands and wipes his mouth with the backside of his arm, turns on the sink and lets the water run into his mouth. The cold on his tongue, and in the back of his throat, and now in his gut, he loves it, he drinks more.

            In the dark room, where the corpses are rising and searching for the light, he slips back under the sheets. As he does, a body stirs next to him, and hands wrap around his stomach. They are cold. He clenches his jaw in disgust and anguish over these horrid bones.

            The hands are of Juliette Taylor, Liam Disraeli has known her for seven months. This is how they met: Liam Disraeli loves to drink. If he could drink every night, death would be caressing every bottle he put his lips to. Liam and two of his friends were walking on 20th and Mission heading toward a bar labeled The Elbo Room. It's a dead end, a last resort to an expectedly disappointing evening, but that was this night. Liam Disraeli steps four steps behind his friends, staring intently at the oil marks on the sidewalk. His legs are stocky and muscular causing his stride to slow his forward momentum. The oil spots arouse all of his attention. 'What do you see in the spots Liam Disraeli?' He inquires to himself. 'Nothing but oil,' he answers.

            A block from the bar, Liam finally looks up. His intuition is heightened by the alcohol in his veins. He sees it on the corner, an unfulfilling evening of belligerent imbeciles presumptuously trying to compare themselves to a room full of strangers. Knowing that this is the destination, he stops walking. His friends don't see, standing on the corner. He reaches into the hidden inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out one of three cigarettes. He sticks it to his lips and searches for fire. Those friends of his are outside the bar distressed and confused that Liam Disraeli deliberately stayed behind. He searches as anxiety growls in his chest, fire is his only desire.

            "Here." Fire appears in the hands of a woman.

            Liam Disraeli burns the tip of the cigarette, inhales and is calmed, stares into this woman's eyes as blue smoke spirals from his nostrils. They are green eyes. He does not speak, only stares into the green, committed on coming up with a viable simile to describe them. Nothing comes.

            He finally says, "Thanks," as she turns and walks away.

            But she doesn't walk far, into The Elbo Room. He curses himself for his lack of insight into similes and puffs the cigarette. At the door, the bouncer requests the usual artifacts to check personal validity. The bar is squeezed with hipster know-it-alls and the late night alcoholics. The music is loud and everyone is shouting. Liam Disraeli makes a face at the ceiling and sits on the last stool at the edge of the bar. The bartender dawdles about, making it abundantly clear that Liam's presence go unnoticed as a practice of good faith on this busy night. Somehow, his order is taken.

            A hand taps his shoulder. It's the girl who created fire. Her voice shouts some inaudible introduction and Liam sits bemused. She realizes he is hard of hearing, hands him a cigarette and moves toward the door. Liam is reluctant to give up his seat. The drink has yet to arrive. He puts up an index finger; he needs a moment. She continues for the door. Panic spreads like wild fire, he wants the drink, he wants the girl, and greed confines him. This girl, who created fire, has an alluring smirk across her face as she disappears out onto the street. The drink arrives, downed in one gulp and the cup is slammed to the bar.

            Liam Disraeli is outside in an instant.

            "There you are." The girls voice is playful and soft.

            "Here I am. Will you create fire for me?"

            She looks at him curiously, as though he just spoke in a foreign language, but his hint is interpreted. The fire is created and Liam Disraeli is properly introduced to Juliette Taylor.

            Back in the apartment, Juliette's hands are ice around Liam's waist. He fills his lungs with a repugnant breath. ‘What are you doing? This isn’t what you want.' He tells himself. He turns to see Juliette's fiery red hair, the makeup smeared across her eyes, lipstick stained on his pillow, morning breathe lancing his nostrils. In the past seven months Juliette has been to Liam's apartment four times. He has been to hers seventeen. The morning is always the same. She gets up and stabs his ego with harsh realities of Liam's even-tempered attitude and vague verbal expression. Every critique is only to better him as a friend and lover, is her philosophy. Liam laughs that she could be so wrong and nothing about their relationship is ever decided. It is a microcosm of endless one night stands and discouraging sun rises.

            Now, Juliette Taylor has a friend. Her name is Violet Linus. Violet and Liam also have relations, closer than Juliette could postulate. However, unbeknownst to Juliette,  they met on a separate occasion. This is how they met: Liam Disraeli loves to read. If he could read and be drunk everyday for the rest of his life, starvation would take hold of his soul and drag him to hell. Six months ago, he sits in the San Francisco Public Library hiding himself behind a bookshelf in the fiction section reading selected stories of William Faulkner. He has been drinking, laughing at the seriousness of the stories, not understanding the religious subtexts and the desire to document war. A voice between some books startles him back to reality.

            "Hey, shut the fuck up! This is a library."

            A beautiful, pale face tucked between, The Sound and The Fury and As I Lay Dying, grabs him around the neck and he realizes, human beings are unremitting creatures.

            She says again, "Shut up, OK?"

            Liam narrows his view in anger. He says with confidence, "No. Have you read Faulkner? The man is a solemn and tortured soul. He may have never laughed in his life."

            "What? I don't care. Shut up." Her face disappears from between the books. Liam goes back to laughing.

            She comes around the corner, "What is your deal? Are you on drugs or something?"

            "Of course not! This is a place of learning, and that is exactly what I'm doing."

            She loathes him, thinks he’s a smart-ass villain. He wants to read.

            Liam suggests, "Why don't you move somewhere quieter?"

            "Because I was here first!"

            "Don't be opportunistic," Liam protests.

            "What?!"

            "Selfish, egocentric, self-absorbed. Opportunistic."

            "You're drunk!" She says and lets out a judgmental laugh.

            Liam Disraeli feels despondent. People are so predictable, so malleable, effortlessly manipulated. He stops sneering at her and lets his gaze fall back into Faulkner. She's paralyzed with animosity and starts to cry.

            "What? What's happening? No, you were just laughing at me. Storm off in anger," Liam declares.

            Violet goes right on crying, letting out everything she has. She is alone in this world. Even if she can never allow anyone to truly love her, she still needs, craves devotion. Liam Disraeli stands up and cautiously put his hand on her shoulder.

            "Listen, I didn't mean to make you cry. I thought, well, I don't know what I was thinking. I'll leave OK. I'll leave."

            Violet Linus falls into Liam's chest. She feels something, something she couldn't explain. A sincere feeling and that is what matters. Her rather short, bleach blond hair tangles in his beard. He confusingly wraps his arms around her. He doesn't know how to comfort strangers, only drive them away. This is how he met Violet Linus.

            For a long time Liam Disraeli has been mentally electrified by his relationship with Violet Linus, which has been fueling his inscrutable feelings for her. He enjoys the unpredictability of their relationship. She is dynamite, looking for the fuse. Cautiously and with impending attention, he has been planning every move. Of course, she will never love him. Violet can never love, she only destroys. Liam is convinced of it, but still, he plays the game.

            On the other hand, Juliette Taylor loves Liam with every ounce she can give. She is enamored by his stumbling wit and careful demeanor. Anything that Liam desires she is helping him search for it. Foolishly Liam accepts her love, granting it access to every part of his spirit. He is a sucker for love, and will never let anyone’s go unnoticed. But he is weak as man is weak. A glutinous pock mark on love's unwashed face.

            Juliette leans over and bites Liam Disraeli's earlobe. He trembles a bit, but resists her blissful allurement. He withdraws a cigarette from the nightstand and put it to his lips.

            "Don't smoke that here."

            "Will it bother you?"

            "Yes, and it will soak into the sheets."

            "Have you smelled them already?" Disregarding her, he lights the cigarette anyway.

            "What the fuck!" Juliette sits up and scowls down on Liam, who is purposely staring at the ceiling.

            "Come on, it's cold out there, lay back down."

            "Not until you put that out."

            "Never." He smiles at the ceiling.

            Juliette gets up and hurries into the bathroom. The scent of cigarette flutters about the room. The bodies previously unconscious on the floor are now meandering around the apartment looking for hang over sedatives. Liam is alone with his thoughts. He questions the legitimacy of his relationship with Violet. Conclusively, the resolve is always the same, she will stay with Liam as long as she knows he is unavailable. Any sort of commitment will only drive her away. She knows that Liam will never destroy his relationship with her best friend. He is far too sensitive. It gives her leverage over him. Juliette walks over to the bed and stands over Liam.

            She says, "Hello?" Liam breaks his concentration and stares into the green that once entranced him.

            "Hello," he repeats softly.

            "Put that thing out, for me." Liam stamps out the cigarette in the ashtray next to his bed.

            "Thank you."

            He squirms to find an equally, if not more, uncomfortable position. Juliette leans down and kisses him hard on the mouth. He returns the kiss only through force of circumstance, trying to let it mean something. 'Somehow, this will end badly,' the thought drifts in and out, as Juliette's tongue congruently does the same. She pulls away with a look of satisfaction. Liam stares at the ceiling.

            "What are we doing today?"

            "Uh, well, I was going to write," Liam says trying to figure out an effortless way to get her out of the apartment.

            "It's been forever since we got lunch or went to a museum."

            "We did something last night. I threw a party."

            "Yeah, but I want to do something just the two of us."

            "Was there something you had in mind?"

            "I'm always coming up with stuff. It's your turn."

            Liam Disraeli didn't want to spend the morning mulling over possibilities that he wouldn't be interested in. He knew whatever he chose he would hate. He wished it were Violet, instead of Juliette, poking him for options. She was perfectly fine with laying around drinking beer and talking about whatever came to mind.

            "How about a movie?" He suggested.

            "No, there's nothing I want to see. What else?"

            "Breakfast?"

            "I'm not hungry, and that's something strangers do after they sleep together."

            That was all he had. Selfishness was Liam's strongest quality.

            "Listen, I had planned to write today."

            "Oh." Juliette pouts.

            "Come on, don't be like that, I just had other plans. We can go out tomorrow."

            "I have work tomorrow. I was hoping we could be together."

            ‘There is no winning with her.’ Liam thinks. "Ok, how about we take a walk in the park and figure it out."

            "You're not even trying are you! I'll just leave ok, it's what you want." It really is.

            "Look, I'm gonna write for a little bit, I'll call you tonight, we can go to a bar or something."

            "Fine." She began gathering her things in a hurry. Liam can feel her contempt.

            Juliette composes herself in the mirror and says, "I'll be expecting your call no later than eight," and lets herself out.

            Outside the sun is fierce. Juliette gets in her car and closes her eyes. She can't help but love Liam Disraeli and all his flaws. She asks herself why this could be possible, to love a man so egocentric and brash. 'He is a fool but altruistic in so many ways,' she thinks to herself. A man who cares so much, but acts on it so little. The engine starts and Juliette drives off down the road. She wonders about Liam's true intentions with her. She turns down some streets and comes to her own apartment in the Richmond district. The car is parked but Juliette sits, puzzling over the night before. On Saturday night, as Juliette's car stops in front of Liam Disraeli's apartment, her heart vibrates with utter excitement. At this moment her feelings for Liam are so indescribable, so complex that it makes her bones shake with joy. She has never met someone like Liam. The only time she has felt this way was when she asked Santa for a dog, and to her amazement, he brought her one. She loved that dog with insurmountable affection. Now, twelve years later, she has a similar feeling for a man she doesn't totally understand. She walks up the driveway and hears music and voices coming from the apartment. She knocks.

            The door opens and Juliette is pleased to see Liam's crooked toothed smile greeting her. She kisses him and beams satisfaction. She sees tenderness in his blue eyes.

            "How are you?" Liam asks.

            "I'm doing better now," she says as she puts down her purse and takes off her coat.

            "Good, want a beer?"

            "That would be great." She follows him into the kitchen, wondering why she hasn't been here more often.

            Liam rummages through the refrigerator. "I've been saving the good ones, for us." He opens the beer with his lighter.

            "To us," Juliette says raising her bottle.

            "Yes," Liam responds, and there is a clink of the glass.

            Still in bed, Liam sits up and yells, "Anyone who is still here, get the fuck out." He hears laughter blanket the apartment. "I'm serious. I have things to do you free loaders." There are sighs and scoffs from the kitchen and then footsteps to the front door. Alone now, he sits at his desk and turns on the computer. The stories will come as long as he is sitting there. He decides to write about Juliette, a topic he knows won’t turn into anything worth reading later, but a text comes in on his phone, it's Violet.

            Hey, can I see you.

            Liam Disraeli's heart pounds an extra beat and he replies, Come over.

            Not now, later.

            I might be busy.

            But I need you.

            All right.

            He can't say no. Violet always gets what she wants. Her disposition is what propels Liam, knowing that he can never truly have Violet, which makes him want her all the more. He stares at the texts a while, letting them soak into his skin and down beneath his bones. 'I need you,' he repeats to himself. But there is a halfhearted subtext to her reply, he is uncertain and filled with fear about where this relationship will lead. 'It will be dark for a while,' Liam dampens his spirit.

            Now he stares at a blank page on the computer screen and has no desire to write words. He can only think of Violet and what she could possibly need. The curser on the page blinks with an interminable provocation. Liam wants so badly to get the words out of his head and onto this white page, but introspection is holding him back. He is becoming restless. Letting his mind wander to dark corners, he stands and paces back and forth across the stained carpet. Thoughts are cascade through his brain like a flock of birds startled by a gunshot. Madness is enclosing on his fragile mind, and he starts stomping his feet on the floor. He contemplates the fine line between love and insanity. Back and forth, his stomps are military generals unable to get a hold of their reason, judgment of reality, on the far side of the jungle. Alone with his thoughts, he turns on the shower, making it boil. He steps in and lets the water turn his skin pink. It calms him, allows him to be taken out of time, out of space and gather his soul which splintered around the apartment. He breathes deep.

            Violet Linus is sitting in a mediocre cafe filling her coffee with Splenda. She has the greatest urge to see Liam Disraeli at this moment, but doesn't act on impulse. She has the uncanny ability to suppress all feelings of want. She pours packet after packet of artificial sugar sweetener into her over priced cup of coffee. She does this uncontrollably and without any thought on the matter. Her mind has drifted to Liam Disraeli. A man, who she can never truly know, irritating her, taunting her intuition, her powerful reserve for the opposite sex. She mentally wraps her thin form in his sheets, hugging close. And the feeling of Liam's soft breath on the back of her neck as she wanders in and out of a dream she will never remember.         

            Staring into her coffee she snaps out of her fantasy. A little mound of sweetener is dissolving into brown sludge. She pushes the cup to the other side of the table and stares out the window, searching for something she wants so badly to find. She can't control it anymore, and knows what she has to do. She sends out a text.

            Liam steps out of the shower feeling regenerated. Trying to gather his thoughts in an orderly fashion, he impels these two women so they are whispers in the back of his mind, thinking deep on what he really wants. A published novel, a book of poetry, multiple short stories all being written at the same time because the prose never stops pouring from his soul. But that's an illusion, a wizardly concoction of a pointless ambition. Liam is unrealistic in his futuristic goals. He thinks he is a powerful intellectual with many answers to spread to his readers, but there aren't any. He has never been published. He has never let anyone read his work. He writes and produces poems and shorts, but hides them in a folder he entitles "Visions". He collects himself, and connects his dream to the two relationships he has going on at present: unrealistic, unfocused, insensitive, mystifying, and flippant. He decides the relationships must end tonight.

            At seven thirty Liam's phone makes a notifying buzzing sound. Violet's name flashes on the screen.

            I'm coming over.

            Liam replies, All right.

            He sits and waits, trying to transpire a good way to end this relationship. Violet will understand. He paces back and forth talking to himself and pretends Violet is listening. 'Listen, I've been doing a lot of thinking on the matter, and I think it's best for both of us if this ends,' he says to nobody. Liam enjoys the company, even though it's a heedful task to be colluding with two women. He continues talking to nobody. 'I know, I know, I'm not sure if this is what I really want, but I think it will be beneficial for both of us to move on. It's not like this was going anywhere, right?' He is clear and decisive, a tone he knew he could never manage in real life. If anything, he will be stumbling and tearing up, trying to end two relationships he so badly desires.

            "Hey," he says.

            Violet says nothing, but walks in and sits in an arm chair next to Liam's bed. Liam is absorbing the moment. She produces a cigarette from her purse and lights it with careful attention.

            "Did you need something?" He hates the silence.

            She inhales the cigarette and looks questioningly at the ceiling. "Why are you always staring up there? What is so interesting about it?" She asks.

            "What, I don't know, it helps me collect my thoughts or something. Look, is there something I can help you with?"

            Disregarding the question she says, "There is something up there, something nobody else sees. What is it?"

            "I really don't know what you’re talking about."

            "Whenever I'm over here, you're always laying on this bed, staring into the ceiling. Are you looking for something?"

            "Answers." Liam sits on the ground in front of Violet.

            "Are you getting them?"

            "Not once."

            "Did you know that Juliette Taylor and I are friends?"

            Juliette Taylor is nervous on her first day of college. What scares her most is entering a classroom and finding out that this was not the right class at all. Her high-strung, overachieving mind would be mortified, when in reality all she would have to do is stand and walk out. She over thinks and over analyzes even the most menial situations. On a Tuesday she walks into art history.

            Violet Linus, dissimilar to Juliette, does not care much for school. The only reason she attends is to prove to her widower father that she can finish something to completion and with high standings. She takes any class that will be easy to get a grade and get out. On a Tuesday she walks into art history.

            Three rows back so she won't draw attention to herself, but can still pay the utmost attention, Juliette sits. Violet walks in as class is starting and sits in the only remaining seat behind Juliette. The class begins and soon ends. Juliette catches glances and comes to an abrupt stare with Violet. She tenses up at Violet's enervated gaze, but proceeds with an introduction. Violet smiles at this girls forthwith attempt to be charming and obsequious, and has an intuitive feeling that she can be easily manipulated. Juliette Taylor and Violet Linus become friends. 

            Liam Disraeli is in disbelief at these words. "What?"

            "I met Juliette in Art History.” Her voice is cunning. She drags her cigarette and continues staring at the white ceiling.

            "I…I don't know what to say."

            "It's true.”

            "I don't believe this." Liam is now staring at the ground. "You're telling me you knew, this whole time? Why wouldn't you say something?"

            "This was so much fun. I couldn't ruin it for the both of us."

            "You're insane!"

            "Oh, come on now Liam, you thought you could get away with all this."

            "No, I-"

            "You what Liam? You were having fun? Toying with the hearts of emotionally unstable women?"

            "You have to leave, she's coming over here right now."

            "Juliette deserves to know.”

            "But you don't even want this relationship. You're just in this for your own benefit."

            "People change.”

            "Please Violet, just let me let Juliette down easy."

            "No way man, she must know!" Violet suddenly stands up with vitality and looks down on Liam Disraeli. She says, "She must know little man," and points her finger in his face.

            "What is going on?" Liam's heart is about to explode from his chest. He picks up a cigarette and tries to light it, but his hand is shaking like a bad case of Parkinson’s.

            "Are you really so nervous Liam?”

            "She is going to walk in that door and see you standing here. She has no idea we even know each other."

            "And whose fault is that? I'm just another one of your many lovers."

            "You're vindictive! Juliette is your friend and you knowingly put yourself in this relationship."

            "How many are there Liam? Huh? How many other lovers do you have?"

            "Oh come off it Violet, this was never my intention."

            "And what was?"

            Liam finally gets the cigarette lit, but doesn't want it anymore. His mind is moving a thousand miles a second trying to figure a way out of this. He knows it's inescapable. "I don't know."

            "God! Is that your answer to everything? Why don't you be the man here and tell me the honest truth. What was your intention Liam?"

            "I love you both, all right!"

            "You're a fucking liar! Love is not something you can just hand out at your leisure. It's not like a free sample for everybody."

            There is a knock at the door. Liam doesn't even believe his heart is beating anymore, it's going so fast. He stares into violet's pure blue eyes and she does the same.

            "Well?"

            "Fuck."

            He opens the door.

            Liam Disraeli is lying on the hardwood floor staring at the ceiling. His mind, a fraud. It continuously renders imaginative conversations and scenarios of the worst kind. It's seven thirty and nobody has arrived. His phone has been buzzing incessantly, but it’s ignored. He can't help but feel like a terrible person, like his soul has permeated through his bones, muscles and skin and then through the ceiling he has become so familiar with. Tears are fortuitously surging from his eyes, soaking through his shirt and pooling onto the floor. He hates himself more than ever. He hates that he must torment such beautiful people, who only want to feel loved, accepted, truly rewarded for the emotions that have been shared. Liam Disraeli feels as though he's drowning.

            There is a knock at the door. He doesn't hear. Another knock, louder this time. Liam Disraeli snaps from his hallucinations, wipes tears from his face and leans his back against the wall.

            "Liam?" He hears Violet's voice call out.

            He stares at the door. Looks down at his hands and then back to the door. "Hold on," he shouts with a crack in his voice. He stands and looks into the full length mirror. A fake smile flashes across his swollen face, his cheeks are rosy and damp. He knows he won't be able to fake anything.

            He opens the door.

            Violet instantly sees Liam Disraeli's heartache. The door is left open. He can't stop the tears from coming out.

            "What's the matter? Is everything all right?" Violet sounds concerned.

            "I can't…I can't do this." Liam's voice is suffocated by his whimpering.

            "Can't do what?"

            "I know that you know I'm dating Juliette."

            "Oh, um, how?"

            "Actually, it was just a guess. Am I right?"

            "Yes."

            "And you don't mind?"

            "I do now. I like you Liam. I didn't think that I could, or that this would become the mess that it has become, but I truly and undoubtedly like you. It might even be love, but I'm not sure."

            "I like you Violet, but it has to end."

            "So you're choosing Juliette?"

            "I'm choosing neither, I'm going to break up with Juliette as well."

            "I see."

            Without noticing Juliette walking up to the door, Liam Disraeli kisses Violet gently on the lips.

            "What! What is going on?!" Juliette's voice echoes through the apartment. "Violet, what are you doing here?"

            Liam says, "Juliette, I thought…I was going to call you."

            "Violet, tell me what is going on!" Her vision has tunneled and is targeted at Violet.

            "I'm sorry Juliette. I'm sorry you had to find out this way," Violet tries to explain.

            "Sorry?!" Juliette walks over to where Violet is standing.

            "I don't know what to say."

            "Of course you don't!” Juliette's face has turned red and with her attention to Liam she says, "Is this true? Tell me Liam, are you fucking her too?"

            "I…I didn't mean for it to happen like this." Liam doesn't know how to feel anymore.

            "You didn't answer me! Are you fucking her too?"

            "Yes." Liam stares at the floor, ashamed.

            Juliette stands for moment. Her eyes becoming glazed and unrecognizable. Redness and a sense of homicide is the only thing visible in her plump cheeks. She says nothing, only stands, letting the tears well up in her eyes and fall to the hardwood floor without a sound. Liam and Violet are looking from Juliette to each other trying to decipher her next move.

            "Say something," Liam finally says.

            A look is flashed to Liam, and whatever is left of his soul turns to stone. It's a look of pure hatred, unrequited detest and with one solid motion, grabs an ashtray off the coffee table and with vicious cruelty starts beating Liam Disraeli over the head. The glass shatters and disintegrates into his eyes and face. Blood pools on the wood. Sounds of broken bones are blunt and stop before entering the atmosphere. Juliette has no sense of the world and now, only holding a razor sharp edge of the ashtray, is forcing it deeper into Liam Disraeli's skull with every downward thrust.

            Fear liquidated from her chest, Violet leaps up and grabs Juliette from Liam Disraeli's limp body. Juliette is still filled with enormous rage. Her hands around Violets throat like a hungry python. They both fall to the floor.

            With gasping breaths Violet says, "Please, stop."

            "IT'S TOO LATE! I HATE YOU!"

            Juliette tightens her grip. Violet is flopping like a dying fish trying to draw beautiful breaths of air into her lungs. She feels around on the ground, making one last desperate attempt to save her own life and wraps her fingers around something sharp. She stabs it through Juliette's chest as hard as she can. Juliette is unresponsive. Blood drips onto Violet's face and in her open mouth. The last breaths of humanity are coming from her lungs when Juliette finally lets go from the pain in her own chest. Violet Linus lies dead on the ground across from Liam Disraeli.

            Feeling around her chest, Juliette looks to see a shard of glass protruding like driftwood from out of the sand. She touches around the wound and brings her hand up to see her blood. She can't tell if she is crying or laughing, but she doesn't care. After seven months, she finally feels truly and without question relieved.

            Juliette Taylor lays down with her back to the hardwood floor and stares at the ceiling with Violet Linus and Liam Disraeli.