Amidst Crimson Kisses

Chapter Eleven: The Gallows of Hallelujah

Asher's POV

I can't say I feel the same because I once rushed through the darkness while a speck of light reflected in Juliet's irises, and then I faded in her sight. The way she used to get troubled with an outside voice of a hundred crickets in her tone just drove me insane because even in her rage, she couldn't help but be comely. She would scream during dance practice as her cries lodged in her throat, and she dived in midair. I always admired the agitation in her smile. I remember one afternoon, I caught wind of her pivoting through the abandoned halls of Rosewood Academy.

It was the summer of Juliet's sophomore year when I found myself stumbling into her lavish nightmare. I climbed in the back window of Mrs. Garcia's classroom. I was scavenging for a few days of assurance when I first walked in the academy with a pocket full of dust and a heart consumed in bitter remorse. Then I heard bleak ballads expel through the hallway as a shrill voice decked the foyer. I didn't know the beauty that was eclipsing in her essence on that faithful Friday, but as the sun descends, I realize I'm indifferent to the ongoings of the morrow.

I sail underneath a cerulean sunset while fuchsia clouds encompass the streets of Manhattan and saturate over high rise buildings, drifting over the ocean that divides the upper class from poverty. I'm on the wrong side of the tracks, but to be perfectly honest whenever I was with Juliet, I walked on dangerous waters I should've never treaded. Even now, in the approaching twilight, I can perceive our time spent together as the Upper East Side bellows in the absence of a lost enchantress.

I look up at the sky, noticing how even in death Juliet was still caught in the same clouds as a picture of her suspends over neon lights. I never witnessed a sign more enticing or a heartache more electrifying.

"Damn, I've been so lost without you." I continue, drownings my thoughts, "I miss the simple things like finding time to talk to you amongst the chaos surrounding us. I miss the way something was either the object of your affection or lacked your attention altogether. It was no middle-ground for you because you either adored someone, or you despised them, and these days I crave your transparency."

I gaze at her picture. "Who's going to show me how they feel when my world is crashing down? Who will stay up late just to find a fourteen-year-old boy and his friend, Andre, a place to sleep? Who even cares enough to risk their reputation for a stray dog that followed her home? That's what your classmates said at first until you started outing more secrets than a treasure chest, and God, we're you beautiful. I'd give the entire world just to hold you in my arms again."

I listen to the tremors of Times Square as an uproar takes over the sidewalk. I'm standing in the middle of Manhattan piercing the veil of life and death, yet the only thing accompanying my voice is silence. I glance at Juliet's digital rendering, wondering the lunacy of digitizing my soul and dwelling with her for centuries in an infinite loop. Time would disentangle ages before our everlasting love as we watched the end of the world with content. Then in a flash, individual pixels erase and collage into a different illustration as the bottom of the screen rearranges, and Juliet obliterates.

My mind detonates as Juliet's likeness reflects in brisk mermaid eyes washing over a bounty of blemishes and dark bushy eyebrows protruding over a round face. Her stubby legs make her body disproportionate as her head balances on her shoulders. I perceive her homely appearance oozing over her lips that secrete as her first lie radiants across the screen: A Ballerina Who Won't Fall. She's a siren yet undeserving of such fairness, but I was always attracted to Margo when she spawned into a carbon copy of Juliet. It's mad, but Margo was only bewitching when I saw glimpses of Juliet in her smile.

I remember Margo once said her father was the governor, and her lineage descended from greatness. Her social status never mattered to me, so when Andre searched the actual governor of New York, I watched her erupt in tears as Juliet invited her back to Goulding Manor. Juliet spent hours giving her a makeover, but most of her gowns often reigned over Margo's short frame. Juliet had gorgeous long legs that accompanied her small waistline. It was amusing as Margo tried to fill out the curves in Juliet's expensive ensembles, yet she lacked the figure and the curves to parade in her simplest attire.