Come Over (StudxStud)

25.

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   "Hey, it's about time-"

   "I'm gonna' kill him!" I shout, cutting Jules' greeting short as I ram past her.

   "Woah, woah, woah- who are we killing?" She asks, trailing my heels as I rush through her house.

   I run through the living room first. There is no one there so I head down the hall. I shove the downstairs bathroom door open and quickly glance inside. Catching him by surprise while on the toilet would have been ideal. Seeing it empty, I rush out and make my way to the kitchen.

   "Where is he?!" I scream, spinning to face Jules.

   "Who?!" She screams back, her volume matching mine.

   "James!" I shout before yanking the huge kitchen knife from under my jacket. "I'ma fuckin' kill him-"

   "Woah!" She says, leaning away from the steel I am flailing around. "You brought a knife, seriously?"

   "Where's he at?" I press as I brush passed her and head up the stairs.

   "He's not here!" She calls out from behind me. "Can you tell me what this is about? Talk to me!"

   "You can talk, but I choose violence and death." I growl to her as I burst through James' bedroom door. "...a slow and painful death..." I mutter.

   "Baby, slow down." She stops me as I leave his room.

   "No! Move!" I scream as I try to go around her but she cuts me off and tries to reach for the knife.

   As her hand grips my forearm, I swing my arm away to break the contact and the knife just barely misses her face. I immediately come to my senses when I see the bewildered look in her eyes.

   "Iyana! You're acting like a crazy person!"

   "I'm not crazy!" I shout back, feeling a bit triggered since I was admitted to the psych-ward not too long ago.

   "Give me the goddamn knife." She demands through clenched teeth, I can see the fear behind those hazel eyes.

   She roughly grabs my wrist and shoves me into the wall. She quickly moves to snatch the knife from my hands and when it goes, so comes the waterworks. I feel vulnerable and weak all at once and I instantly break down in her arms.

"What is going on?" Jules pleads with me as she pulls me into her.

When I don't respond, too caught up in my wailing tears, she guides me into her bedroom and sits us on the bed. After placing the knife on her nightstand, she turns to me and lays us down.

"It's okay, I got you." She whispers, pulling me into her chest as we both lay back. "Let it all out. Take your time and then tell me."

"I think..." I swallow my cries in order to bring some coherence to my words. "I think your dad did to my mom... w-what your brother did to me."

"What...?" She questions, pulling away to look at my face. I just nod my head as more tears overflow. "He did? When? Today? How do you know?"

   She bombards me with question after question and I stop her. I calm myself down before finally telling her the story my mother shared with me a while back. Finishing in tears, I watch Jules entire posture change. With furrowed brows and a menacing glare to match, she stands up.

   "We're gonna kill him..." She growls.

   "Wait," I tug at her arm until she plops back down next to me on the bed.

   "Wait for what?" She asks with open palms and wide eyes. "Just a minute ago you were weaponized and ready for a bloody murder."

   Over an hour after pouring out everything and calming down a bit, killing him is starting to sound like a drastic measure. After all, my mother is the victim right now. During my situation, all I wanted was to know who did it and why me. The bastards going to prison for his crimes was just a bonus. But what does my mother want to do about this situation?

   "I know, I know, but I wanna' know what it is my mom wants to do about it. It's only right." I inform her. "Plus, I was in a blind rage like an hour ago. I don't know if I would actually kill someone..."

   Bringing her thumb to my cheek, Jules rubs away at the remnants of cold tears on my face.

   Her face then softens into a small smile as she says. "I would."

   I lean up to place a soft kiss on her cheek. "No, you wouldn't."

"Julianaaa!" Both our heads turn when we hear her fathers booming voice followed by the slamming of the front door.

"Okay, out the window, go." Jules whispers loudly as she gently pushes me out of the bed.

"He sounds mad."

"He's always mad." She says as she quickly opens her side window that leads to the roof, and helps me over the pane.

"So, you put your brother in jail, huh?!" I hear him shout as his heavy boots stumble up the stairs.

"I don't wanna' leave you with him." I whine, planting my feet on the roofing.

"You have to, I'll be okay." She assures me.

"Come with me? We can run away together, just you and me-"

"You know we can't do that-"

"Please!" She quickly shuts me up with a kiss.

In this kiss is the sweetness of passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into a moment. My mind swirls with warm joy and a promise of a tomorrow, but also of a thousand goodbye's.

"Juliana!" He shouts for her again, his voice growing closer.

"Go!" Jules shouts after she breaks the kiss and lightly pushes me away before shutting the window and curtains.

I stand breathless, staring blankly at the window as I listen to the screaming voices and crashing of objects. She is there. Just on the other side of this insubstantial glass. She's right there. Probably fighting for her life. But my feet won't move me. She tries so hard to be strong; so hard to hide the fear she clearly feels. She didn't even hesitate to close the window but I still saw it; that frightened look in her eyes.

A part of me wants to be a hero, to break this glass and stop him, but what use would I be to a man of his stature except another punching bag. I'd take a bullet to save Jules but I know she'd never want that for me. She wouldn't want me to intervene. So, I won't.

I quickly turn and make my way down from the roof. After hopping the fence, I rush around the front of the house and head for my front door. I notice my dads car here and I feel a little relief. That relief is quickly extinguished when I open the door and walk inside to hear my father's screaming.

He isn't yelling, or cursing at the air like usually. No. He is screaming bloody murder. I follow his wailing and find him in the bathroom, on his knees. My mother lies in my fathers arms, utterly still, eyes open as if admiring the heavens. As my footfalls approach, she remains still and a cursory glance is enough to know she is dead. Her lips are blue, skin grey, eyes dull with exploded pupils. She is as lifeless as the fall leaves that gust around outside, though they at least get one last dance.

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