These Starcrossed Lives of Ours

by Linski, Megan

  “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 ye
ars. 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.”

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you so much for reading my book, These Starcrossed Lives of Ours. If you liked this book, please leave a review on Amazon and Goodreads. Writing is what I love to do. It has been my passion ever since I was a little girl. Reviews are the lifeblood of my business, and without them I could no longer publish books or be an author. Your opinion could make or break this book, or help someone find it that’s been searching for it all along. I would love to hear from you.

  - Megan Linski

  Acknowledgements:

  Thank you to my editor, Thalia, who is my backbone whenever I finish a novel. I hope I can continue to make you “do backflips” as you so eloquently noted.

  Thanks to Hayley, Haniya, and Helen, who are the best book reviewers and publicity team that a girl could ever ask for.

  And thank you, reader, for taking the time to read my book.

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  Available Now: Kingdom From Ashes

  Princess Bennua is to be married. The daughter of a sultan, her duty is to marry a powerful yet cruel warlord to be her husband, sealing an alliance that will scare the desert of Sahrahn into submission. But the wedding is halted in place when the infamous Raider Prince, king of thieves and leader of the dark city Ashana, threatens to take her city by force.

  Sacrificing her freedom for her country, Bennua agrees to accompany the Raider Prince on his travels if he leaves her homeland alone. Stolen from her charmed life Bennua begins to learn the truth of what lies beyond the palace walls and the suffering that plagues Sahrahn’s people. Bennua begins to plan her escape, but the more she learns from the thieves the more she finds herself becoming one of the them...all while falling hard for their leader, the Raider Prince himself.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

  Megan Linski is the owner of Gryfyn Publishing and has had a passion for writing ever since she completed her first (short) novel at the age of 6. Her specializations are romance, fantasy, and contemporary fiction for young and new adults. When not writing she enjoys ice skating, horse riding, theatre, archery, fishing, and being outdoors. She is a passionate advocate for mental health awareness and suicide prevention, and is an active fighter against common variable immune deficiency disorder. She lives in Michigan.