These Starcrossed Lives of Ours (17 page)

Christine

I shook my head. “No,” I whispered. “It isn’t possible. This isn’t possible.”

“What isn’t possible, Christie?” Faith said. She had a very tired face. Although she was older now and some of her features were different, there was no doubt in my mind that the girl standing in front of me was the one I had murdered three years ago.

“I killed you,” I said in a shaky voice. “I made sure you were dead.”

“You thought I was dead, and I nearly did die,” she said. “But it seems that miracles do happen.”

“You can’t be Faith. Annabelle has found a look-alike, has paid you to torture me and mess with my head,” I said. This had been her plan. To have me room with the one girl that I could never get out of my head, that I would never forgive myself for hurting.

“As unreal as it may seem, it’s me,” she said. She began unbuttoning her shirt and pulled it off of her, letting it fall to the floor. I gasped as I recognized the scars. Long and thin, all over her sides and her torso. There was a thick, deep scar against her stomach that stood out rugged and raised up against the rest, the exact same spot where I’d plunged the knife.

“How could you be alive?” I whispered.

“After you attacked me, some of the others carried me out,” she said. “Annabelle ordered to have me tossed in a dumpster. I was found shortly after they abandoned me and was taken to the hospital. I had to have multiple surgeries. They thought I wouldn’t make it.” She took in a long, deep shutter. “But I fought. I fought with every ounce of strength I had. The pain was the worst thing I’d ever felt, and the months of rehab afterward was almost too much to bear.” Tears welled up in her eyes, and she bit her lip to keep from crying. “But I swore that I would get better so when I was strong enough, I would find you and I would kill you for what you’d done to me.”

I gulped. My whole body was shaking, with fear or with remorse I wasn’t sure. Faith took another step towards me. “My parents found me and took me back in. It took me three years to finally be able to walk again, be strong again. But something happened all that time when I was trying to get well.”

“What?” I asked in barely a whisper.

“I found even though I hated you, I couldn’t be angry with you,” she said, and she began shaking too, fierce tears running across her face. “I realized that if I was in your situation I would’ve killed you just as quickly with that knife. I knew that if Annabelle ordered me to kill, I’d have done it too. And I realized I had to forgive you.”

“Forgive me? How?” I said.

“I don’t know how. But there was no other way to live except to understand why you did it. She would’ve killed both of us that night if you’d refused, Christie. And if you’d said no I’m not sure either of us would be here right now.”

“But how did you get down here? You were safe,” I insisted.

“My parents wanted to move, but I didn’t want to. I thought that she’d never find me because she thought I was dead.” She let out a sarcastic hiss. “I should’ve known better. I ran into her by accident one night. She killed my friends and then took me.”

“But why? Why would she kidnap us, instead of kill us? Why would she want to put us down here?”

“We were the only ones that got away,” she shrugged. “Everyone else who has ever tried to escape has died. She’s got something special planned for us.”

“Do you have any idea what it is?” I said.

“I don’t know.” Faith bent down, picked up her shirt and put it back on. “But I’m sure whatever it is, it can’t be good for us.”

“There must be a way to get out of here. We can’t let her do this to us.”

“I agree with you.” She walked over to my side and to my great astonishment she took my hands in hers, looking me straight in the eye. “But if we’re going to get out of here, we need to team up and fight her together.”

I nodded. “Together. Alright.”

The door above us slowly creaked open. I heard Annabelle coming down the stairs and Faith’s small hands began quivering in my own. “Be ready,” she said. “She’s coming.”

Chapter Twelve

Christine

Faith and I stood at the bottom of the staircase, holding hands. Annabelle’s footsteps grew closer and closer. Faith squeezed my hand in hers and I squeezed it back, feeling like I was about to suffocate. The chances of both of us getting out of here were minimal. I instantly decided that if it came down to me and Faith, I would fight so she could live. I owed it to her, after the pain I’d caused.

Annabelle’s smirk was plastered onto her face permanently. “Oh look, you’ve made up. That’s so cute. I thought for sure you were going to kill each other.”

We stared, not in horror at our old leader, but at the child she was dragging down the stairs by her hair. The little girl wept loudly, screaming for her mother while Annabelle kept the barrel of the gun pointed directly at her head.

              “Leave the child out of this, Annabelle! It’s us you want!” I screamed.

“The child is the only way I can be sure of getting what I want,” she snarled back. “Both of you, come upstairs. I have a little surprise for you. And if you try to make a move, I’ll kill the girl and move onto the boy. Sound fair?”

I glanced at Faith. Annabelle didn’t make empty threats. Everything she said would be true, if we didn’t follow her orders. We obediently followed Annabelle up to the bathroom, where she pointed to a long, thick chain lying on the counter.

“Put it around her neck,” she said to Faith, gesturing to me. Faith shook her head and said, “Are you crazy? I’m not playing your little games.”

Annabelle pointed the gun and fired. It nearly missed the little girl’s head and she screamed louder, tears streaking down her cheeks. “Do I have to ask again?” she said, jamming the gun into the child’s ponytails.

Her face tinged with green, Faith carefully wrapped the chain around my neck. “Tighter,” Annabelle snarled, and Faith made the chain so tight that it began to cut into my skin.

“Get in the bathtub, Christie,” Annabelle ordered. Baffled, I followed her orders and sat in the tub, feeling like a child myself.

“Tie her to the faucet,” Annabelle said. Zombified, Faith leaned over and tied my neck to the faucet so my face was just underneath it, and I was barely able to move my head. I tried pulling my neck away, but the faucet was so strong that I could barely move.

“Turn on the water,” Annabelle said, and her voice began eager, excited. Faith leaned over and the icy, bitterly cold water began streaming into my mouth, my face, my eyes. Quicker than I would’ve liked, but so slow that it was pure torture, the tub slowly began filling up with water. I tried to reach the plug in order to drain it, but found that I couldn’t with my hands or my feet. I grabbed the chain, trying to break it, or at least move it along the faucet so my head wasn’t underneath the water, but nothing helped.

“This is barbaric, Annabelle! Stop this!” I heard Faith’s muffled protests through the endless stream of water.

“You should be happy to get your revenge, Faith. I’m disappointed in you,” Annabelle said, and her laugh only made my panic escalate.

“I won’t stand by and do this! I can’t!” Faith cried out.

“I never expected you to.”

I thought that I would never be able to smell the scent of gas through the water, but I did. Still holding onto the child and the gun with one hand, and reaching to the counter with the other, Annabelle took the open bottle on the counter and splashed it all over Faith’s face. She then took a lighter from her pocket and lit it aflame, dragging the child out of the bathroom with a crazed, maniacal laughter.

“You should’ve known to never double cross me, Christie,” Annabelle said. “I always make sure that you pay the ultimate price.”

I am slowly drowning, the chain digging into my neck as I try to escape the endless stream of water that is slowly climbing up to my shoulders. All I can hear is the wrenched sounds of a girl being burned alive beside me.

            
 
Ian

It took me no time to reach my grandmother’s cottage. I parked the car and jumped out from it, barreling towards the house.

I heard tortured screaming coming from the bathroom. I didn’t know if it was Christie, but the sound itself was enough to make me panic, so I burst in the door with the rifle in my hands.

“Christine!” I yelled, looking around wildly. From out of the bathroom stepped my sister, sopping wet and smelling of gasoline, the pistol in her hands. By her side was the little girl we were looking for, scared and helpless. She smiled crookedly at me before letting out a cruel laugh, tossing the little girl to the side carelessly.

“You’re too late, Ian,” she said. “I’ve already won. Christie’s long gone. And now I’m going to kill you, too.” She raised the pistol at me, and in that moment time seemed to halt in place.

I didn’t mean to pull the trigger, nor did I know the gun was loaded. But when Lia raised that pistol in her hand, all I could think of was to react.

The sound of the rifle firing was loud enough to hurt my ears, yet it sounded miles and miles away. Lia paused in her tracks, the pistol still raised to shoot. It fell limply out of her hand as she stared at me, unable to believe it. She slowly fell to the ground, clutching her stomach, where blood was seeping out onto her clothing. I dropped the rifle and caught her before she hit the ground, cradling her in my arms.

“Ian,” Lia said softly, and I let out a cry of utter desperation and pain as I saw the light leave my sister’s eyes.

Christine

Faith was slumped on the floor besides the tub, passed out. By the time she made it to the water to put the fire on her face out, she was unrecognizable. Her left hand dangled into the tub carelessly. I reached out to grab it. If I was going to die, I didn’t want to die alone.

My head was underwater now. I could feel the water filling up my lungs, and the pain crushing my skull from the lack of oxygen. The chain dug deeply into my neck, filling up the water with my own blood. It had only been a few seconds without air, but it felt like forever. I never thought drowning would be my way to go. I’d wished for something quicker, with less panic and fear. Fear was filling up every inch of me, and my sight grew darker and darker.

I should’ve known Annabelle would’ve chosen something like this, something slow and terrifying. But I didn’t want to think about Annabelle now. I didn’t want my last thoughts to be of her. I wanted them to be of Ian.

I love him so much,
I thought, and I thanked God. Thanked God that Ian had saved me, that I had gotten the short time with him that I did. I should’ve known that these starcrossed lives of ours would never have happy endings. But I had wished anyway.

I only had mere seconds now. Ian’s face swam above me in a mirage, a vision. Everything faded to black and I tried to remember his name, tried to remember what he looked like. But I couldn’t remember. I couldn’t even remember my own name. Everything was vacant.

Breathless.

Afterward

Ian

The trial didn’t last long. After hailing me a hero for saving the children and deciding that Lia was nothing more than a psychopath, instead of the little sister that I once protected, they let me go on the basis of self-defense.

I didn’t protest, but I knew what I was.
Murderer.
I had killed my sister, my own blood. There was no redemption in that, no honor. No matter what Lia had done I still grieved for her loss, not only because she was gone but because I was her killer. I resigned from my job and stayed as a recluse in my apartment, wondering what I would do when the money ran out but barely caring nonetheless.

The girl called Faith lived, but she was a shell of a woman. Her face was covered in burn marks and scars, and even though the plastic surgery helped it couldn’t fix everything. She was a monster to herself everytime she looked in the mirror. She went home with her parents downtrodden and miserable. I told her she was beautiful, but I saw in her eyes that she couldn’t believe it. I knew that one day maybe someone would come along whom she could believe.

Nothing stopped the guilt. The pain. Everything I had been through swarmed about me morning through night, unable to let me go. I barely ate. I rarely slept. My demons kept me awake, but I found that when I wasn’t thinking about Lia, I was thinking about someone else.

After awhile, only one thought was on my mind. Two simple syllables were able to stop the tears when I echoed them.

Christie.

Christine

I had been in a coma for three long months.
Long to Ian, but not to me. Death was peaceful, quiet. There were no accusations or things to be afraid of there. It was still and silent.

When I finally woke up in the hospital, I’d gone blind in my right eye and lost some motor function in my hand. My neck bore permanent scars from the chain that had left deep gashes in my skin. Doctors were there and told me Ian had been by my bedside morning, noon and night, but that he wasn’t here now because of the trial. When I was confused by what they meant, they told me, and I cried. I cried and cried and cried.

The doctors tried to force me to stay, but I did everything I could to fight my way out of the hospital. I was told that I needed psychiatric help, that someone who had gone through what I had needed support and counseling and that I needed physical therapy for my hand, but ignored all advice. I signed myself out and hailed a taxi for the apartment, but halfway there, I told the driver to turn around. I couldn’t reason with myself to see Ian. I just couldn’t face him.

Marjorie and Ahren weren’t home when I got there. I stepped out of the taxi and watched it as it drove away. Miracle was in the pasture, and she nickered gently to me as I walked up to her side.

When I think back to that day I don’t remember much of anything. Just Miracle’s mane flapping in the wind. And running, and running, and running.

I let Miracle go after she could run no longer. I think she went back home, but I don’t know, because I didn’t follow her. I walked for a very long time, wandering in circles around the wood until I eventually had walked all the way to Brooklyn. I stayed where I could, ate what I could, for days, months, maybe years. I wasn’t sure. I passed through time like a ghost, a shadow. I wasn’t afraid, for Annabelle and the cult were no longer a threat. I went from town to town in Michigan, not caring where I ended up. I stayed away from Ann Arbor, and from the small town that had turned everything into broken glass, mirrors reflecting my own shattered life. I wanted to go to my Grandpa’s farm, but I knew that even if I could find it, there was nothing there left for me. That too was in the past.

Then, sometime during the whole wandering, I got tired of it. I knew I owed Ian an apology. I had abandoned him when he needed me most. But did he really need me? I was the whole reason his sister was dead. Maybe he hated me now. But if that was the case, why had he stayed by my hospital bed waiting for me to wake up for three months, only for me to run away when his back was turned?

I didn’t know if it was right to want to go back. I didn’t know if there was anything left for me. But I knew in my heart I wanted to...I wanted to at least try.

I hitched a ride back and then stood in front of the small apartment, watching night set in.  I stood out there for hours as it grew darker and darker. I didn’t even know if he was home, or if he even lived here anymore. When the street lamps came on I opened the door and slowly climbed up to the small apartment, step by step. Would he take me back? Did I want him to?

I paused before I knocked. Yes, I wanted him to. I wanted him to be mine more than anything. I wouldn’t be here if that wasn’t true. Scared out of my mind but needing to know, I knocked on the door.

It opened instantly. I was face to face with an emancipated Ian, deep bags under his eyes, his hair ruffled, clothes dirty. After living on the streets for so long, I knew I looked the same. We stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, I broke the silence. “I’m back.”

Ian instantly swept me up in his arms, brushing my hair away from my eyes and leaning me backwards as he placed a long, passionate kiss upon my lips. I returned it eagerly, wrapping my arms around him and holding him tight as he showered kiss upon kiss on my lips. We didn’t stop kissing for hours, minutes...forever. Still kissing me, he lifted me into his arms, carrying me to his bed. We grappled for each other, clinging to each other’s bodies, becoming one.

“Welcome home.”