A Vow Of Hate

Gracelynn was a ghost, but she was here… in the shape and form of Julianna Spencer.

My wife.

A ghost I had loved and mourned for the last three years.

I rubbed a hand over my face, exhaustion finally hitting me. My head slumped back against the chair and I gazed at the ceiling. I must have dozed off, somehow my brain still active but also drifting into the world of unconsciousness, because I immediately jerked awake when I heard a rustling in bed.

My eyes met Julianna’s drowsy grey ones. She looked confused, her eyes slowly darting between my face and then around the room, almost sleepily.

I took a moment to admire her face, the familiarity of it without her black veil. The face that was ever-present in my dreams and the ghost that haunted my nightmares. It was in this moment that I realized her scars did nothing to hinder her beauty.

No one looked at the moon and thought of how bruised it was for the scarred moon’s beauty was more mesmerizing.

Her scars told a story, written on her flesh like a tragic tale. She was still the same Gracelynn – goddamn it – Julianna, from three years ago. Scarred, yet beautiful like the moon.

I thought of how easily it’d be to let myself be swept away by her tortured grey eyes and broken soul, but she had already killed my heart once.

The trust between my wife and I had already been so fragile. Now that it was broken, with some of the shattered pieces missing – there was no love, where there was no trust.

The unfairness of this situation filled my veins with poison. I should had been happy that she was alive. That I married the woman I loved – yet I felt anything but love for her in this very moment. There was a fine line between love and hate… but the lines had been blurred and the boundaries were no longer intact.

The walls had crumpled and we stood naked and bare, in the face of a bleeding love. It was tormenting to watch Julianna’s face, to be in her presence now that I had come to know of her lies.

“Killian,” she whispered my name, her lips barely moving.

Julianna lifted her arm from under the blankets and reached out for me. “Come closer,” she begged, her voice breaking. “Please.”

I grasped her hand in mine, our fingers interlacing together. My body shuddered at the touch and I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m here,” I said, reassuring her.

She gripped my hand weakly, before dozing off again. I watched her sleep, the ache in my chest growing more intense. Unbearable.

How could we put all of this behind us and move on together?

My fingers dug into the wet dirt over Gracelynn’s fresh grave – where she had been buried, only an hour ago.

Thunder bellowed loudly, crashing through before the sky opened up. The storm raged around me, the skies crying agonized tears as I let out a pained roar.

The rain didn’t stop and it washed away my tears.

My clothes were soaked through as my body grew numb.

She… left.

She… was… gone.

The pain sliced through me at the memory of me kissing her, just last night. The taste of her lips still lingered on my own. My fingertips still tingled at the memory of how soft her skin was under my touch.

In a split second, our future had been ripped away from us. How cruel could fate be?

We were to be married in four months. The dreams of us being together, having kids and growing old together… they were all just that – a dream.

Nothing more, because reality was more brutal.

It wasn’t fair.

Our future had shattered. Now, there was just a grave. A stone that bore her name and her cold bones beneath the same dirt I was kneeling on, my fingers digging into it – as if I could reach deeper inside and gather her into my arms. One last time.

To brush my fingers over her face, one last time.

To feel her lips on my own, one last time.

To stare into her pretty grey eyes, one last time.

To feel her… one last time.

The numbness of her loss had passed. When the pain finally hit me, the reality of this finally crashing through me – the agony had me doubling over, my body racking with wretched sobs.

I roared, my own pain muffled by the storm raging above me, until my throat became parched. Until there was nothing but raw emptiness nibbling at my skin, digging itself under my flesh and burrowing into my chest. Like a disease.

Sick and deadly.

I grieved her.

For three years.

I mourned her.

For three very long years.

I carried my pain, turning my grief into an armor of rage.

She killed my heart.

She deceived my love.

She turned us into a tragic tale.

It was so unfair…

That I still cared for Julianna. Because I was so goddamn weak for her. On my knees, bleeding for her.