"Julie"

This was supposed to be the day of triumph. That’s what the voices on the radio proclaimed and celebrated. We were at the end of this violent, dirty wasteland ravaged by war. To think there was once a town where the rubble lay was a depressing realization to have, but today… Today was the end of it!

“Oscar… You have to leave me here.”

I clutched his hand tighter than I intended. “No. You can’t say that. She’s waiting back home!” I would be in tears if not for the smoke that had dried out my eyes. They had launched a surprise attack, a Hail Mary that guaranteed massive death on both sides. It wouldn’t change their loss. Their leaders had fallen to ours. They had nothing. I had forgotten that the human will could burn the brightest in the deepest despairs of darkness.

“I cannot walk and if you stay here any longer your lungs will collapse. Don’t be an idiot.”

If he hadn’t been right… Would I have tried to help him? Would I have had the courage to carry him through the explosive chaos scattered around us? I doubted as much. It wasn’t the guilt that consumed me when I returned home, but rather the confusion of the last words he spoke to me. His last wish.

“When you return home… Take care of Julie. You are the only one I trust.”

In the first two weeks since returning from war, my feelings fluctuated from discomfort to anger. His conviction shocked me. The mere consideration that he would have me hold to such a selfish and strange promise sent me into a spiral of indecision. There was no doubt in my mind that I would have helped Julie with the grieving of her husband, regardless of him having asked it of me or not. He was my best friend, it was a given, but I couldn’t shake the unease by his wording. Take care of her? Did he assume I would try to make Julie fall for me by taking advantage of her grief? Or worse… Did he know I was in love with her? José wasn’t the misogynistic type, but then again death brought out otherwise the hidden, both the uglier and most beautiful colors of the soul. If he knew, it would make sense. The three of us spent most of our time together. That had been true before as kids and remained true even when they married.

In my raging ocean of doubt and restlessness, a month went by. Not a single call from Julie. It scared me to think she had done something reckless so I pushed away the parasites of insecurity to visit her. All attempts to call her were met with silence. Texts left on unread. Voicemails ignored. Zero contact. Grief, as I knew it, could drive anyone to extreme isolation. No one was exempt from that unspoken rule. Julie included. I had to know that she was okay and still alive.

“Julie, are you home?” No response. My intuition clawed in my mind, screaming at me to push through. I came here for a reason. I could have tried finding a window to crack open, but even that would garner unwanted attention.

The unkempt front lawn and overfilled mailbox served as evidence that fueled my fears. Had Julie even gotten out of the house? The neighbors confirmed that they hadn’t seen her in months… Months? That wasn’t possible. I couldn’t and refused to believe that. The implications terrified me.

I knocked one last time. Julie, please answer. I prayed to whatever god would listen that she would come right over to the door and she would be fine. She would be sad, but she would be fine. Alive.

Before I could walk away and try again tomorrow, I heard the door unlock and swing open just enough for me to peek inside. I didn’t hear any footsteps, meaning the only other scenario was that the door had opened all by itself. Not the ideal set of circumstances for several reasons. I felt for my gun out of instinct, not because I thought I would use it or at least that’s what I hoped, but because there was something off about this whole thing that I couldn’t figure out. José’s last words echoed as I stepped inside their home for the first time since the war.

“Julie? Are you in here?”

“Are you looking for my mother?” A young boy appeared beside me. His resemblance to José was uncanny. He had Julie’s eyes and nose… Each detail I noticed terrified me more and more. I wanted to look away because whoever this boy was… It was not their son.

The entirety of my soul yearned for the exit, begging me to run away as far as I could. I should’ve, but somehow, I composed myself. It could’ve been the desire to find out the truth or the sheer fear of what would happen if I tried to escape now that this boy had seen me.

“I am. Is she here?”

The boy grinned. Innocent and playful just like a real boy would. I almost wished it had shown its true colors by glaring with demonic eyes instead. “She’s downstairs. I’ll take you there, Oscar.”

The ringing timbre of the boy’s voice as he said my name felt like a rope around my neck. It knew my name. It expected me.

The boy led me to a set of stairs that led to the basement. Of all the times I’d been in this house, not once did I notice they had one. I was sure of it. José gave me an exhausting tour of every corner of this house when they moved. There wasn’t a chance I could forget. This staircase had not existed before and that confirmed that I had come face to face with something I could never understand. A part of me wondered and doubted if I would see tomorrow.

I wished I had turned back when I had the chance. Not to live another day, but so that I could have saved myself from the terrible state I found her in. Julie, if I could even call her that still, hung above the basement floor by chains on both arms and legs. Julie’s body was lost somewhere in between her own and that of a monster. If not for her eyes that had remained unaltered, I wasn’t sure I would’ve recognized her. Even then in that state of corruption, it was still Julie. The woman I fell for… That we had fallen for.

“Look, Mother! I brought him here just like you asked!” The boy clung to Julie’s hand, or at least it seemed that way.

“Oh Julie…” It was then that I felt different. A voice in my head that I thought had gone quiet once the war ended, resurfaced. It whispered to me.

Kill the boy.

Kill him and save her.

It repeated the same thing over and over again until it grew to an unbearable screech.

Kill the boy.

Kill him and save her.

Kill him.

Kill him.

Kill him!

“Oscar? I’m so glad to see you.” Her voice sounded normal. I almost burst into tears right then.

“Me too, Julie.”

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“Could you help me out of these chains?”

I could’ve faltered. I wanted to. I could have convinced myself that José was a sick fuck that abused his wife and that he did all of this. José was the villain. That would have been easier, simpler… Here, faced with the horrors of nightmares, I remembered his final words.

“When you return home… Take care of Julie. You are the only one I trust.”

“How cruel… How cruel to leave me with this fucked up request.” My gun, which I both regretted and appreciated having, felt heavy in my hands. “I’m sorry.”

One shot. One shot through the head would be enough. I shot the boy.

“What…?” It did nothing. The bullet pierced the floor. Not the boy’s head. He returned my gesture with a crooked smile. Finally, he showed his true colors. And in turn, so did Julie.

“You fucking bitch! How dare you shoot my son!” She howled. Julie yanked the chains, breaking her arms in the process.

Of course, it wouldn’t be that simple.

I steeled myself.

“I love you, Julie. I really do. But you’re not her. Not anymore.”

“Don’t do it! Please, don’t hurt my mother!” The boy begged.

“Oscar, I always knew you were a fucking coward! You never tried to make a move on me. You’re weak, spineless. A worthless fuck that couldn’t bear seeing his best friend marry the woman he loved!” Julie or the monster using her voice rather, dug deep to wither my will. It’s all it could do, but I heard nothing. I saw nothing.

I wanted to scream. I ignored the boy’s pleading cries to not kill his mother. I pretended l I couldn’t hear Julie saying she loved me instead of José. Fuck. Fuck this. No amount of love could save my soul at that moment. No amount of hope was enough to soothe the stabbing pain in my chest.

Begging, screaming, howling… No more than white noise behind the barrel of my gun. I had done it many times before. I had killed many in worse ways. None of it compared to pulling the trigger on a face you could see; on a face you loved.

And then, finally, silence.

Silence.

Sweet and complete silence.

And blood.

And tears.

And regret.

And eventually… peace.

THE END.