Julian's Death Post

ooc: ^^'' sorry about the confusing nature of this post, and its lack of...awesome. Feedback is welcome and appreciated. Also, it got silly on purpose. I got tired of writing half way through so I was like 'bad and unrealistic explanations?..I think yes! '

I did not see this coming. There was no way I could have guessed the outcome to this long and tiresome series of unfortunate events. As I stare through the layer of smoke at nothing, my body mangled and twisted into a shape that mocks the human form, I had to wonder where it all went wrong. I think it’s safe to say that it was probably when the stalker kidnapped Aria. Yea. That would be it.

I have your precious girlfriend, Julian Scott. I told you not to disregard me so callously. I hope I have your full and undivided attention now. Do I? Good. If you want to see your lover then come to the lumber factory your daddy owns. Which one you ask? I guess you better figure that out, huh? I do hope you read this in time to save her. It’s funny that I can remember the entire thing, even in my current state. If I had lived, I think I would have remembered it well into old age…I would have remembered that shivering fear that it induced until the day I died. Well, seeing this is my dying day, I guess that isn’t such an extraordinary feat.

I cough. The smoke burns my lungs and eyes and I feel as if I can’t draw in enough breath. Well, that last part could be because I have a ragged hole in my abdomen, I don’t know though, I’m not a doctor. I try to lift my arm to brush the tears from my eyes but then I remember that there is nothing to lift. I curse my stupidity and let my head fall to the side. Through my good eye – and by good, I mean the one that isn’t gouged out – I see Aria, thrown into shadow because of the roaring flames behind her. “Ar..ia.” I choke out. Damn, I hadn’t realized how weak I was, my voice is so much clearer in my head. “I…sor…ry.” This raises another fit of coughs. “G-get out.” I make myself say with as much force as I can muster.

I turn my head away from her, not wanting the look of pure terror on her face to be the last memory I have of her. I lift the one arm I have left, and place it on the seeping gash in my stomach, the pain stirs up the calm of my mind and for a split second the fear is back.

I’m dying. I’m fucking dying. Things I never got a chance to do and things I will never do again rush through my mind in a series of blurry pictures, like a montage on morphling: I’m hand in hand with Aria at the cabin, I’m being chased by Czar in the water, I’m playing hide-and-go-seek with Natalia, I’m holding my new baby brother in mu arms, I’m in a black suit and Aria is walking toward me in a white gown, I’m watching kids that have Aria’s looks and my eyes playing in the yard with puppies that look suspiciously like Czar, I’m laying in bed and an older Aria is laying next to me and I’m still overcome by her beauty every time I look at her…

I will never kiss Aria again; I will never hold her close to me. I will never bicker with Adrian, or see Natalia again. I won’t be able to see my new baby brother or sister. Hell, I will never even see my own baby. Aria and I won’t elope, we won’t have kids, and I will never sit with her on our porch, the kids grown and both of us gray and old, and I will never say how beautiful she is to me and how much I still lover her.

Like sediment in a pool, my fear settles, leaving me to feel nothing but an aching in my chest that has nothing to do with my wound. I want to cry, I want to curl into a ball and weep like a little girl, but I just don’t have the energy and frankly I don’t think I have enough limbs left over or muscles in my stomach to maneuver like that.

I just wish Death would get this over with already. I don’t need all this time to contemplate my life or even my death. I’m going to die anyway, what does it matter? Why is Death holding out on me? So Death, you want to torture me for a couple of minutes before you take my immortal soul as your prisoner for the rest of eternity? What the fuck kind of douche bag move is that? Fine. Want me to contemplate you? I will. Asshole.

I guess I knew I was going to die when I felt that unforgiving steal cut through my arm like a knife through butter. It was such I clean cut that it didn’t hurt until a few seconds after my arm had rolled off the operating table I had been strapped to. I’ll tell you, I was optimistic before then. I was confident that something would happen. I don’t know what I was waiting for – Peacekeepers to burst in, Czar’s bloody body to get up from the corner and charge the assailant in one last ditch effort to save his master – whatever it was I was hopeful that I was not going to die.

Nothing came. The door was not kicked in by Peacekeepers, and my best friend did not rise from the dead.

Aria was screaming her head off from somewhere out of sight as my unbelieving eyes stared at my dismembered limb. It took me a few long seconds to realize that I would have to start writing left handed, when the pain hit, mind-numbing, eye-rolling-into-the-back-of-my-head, unadulterated pain. I screamed, my voice breaking with the sheer force that my voice tore through my throat.

That was when I lost the hope that I was ever going to get out alive. Looking back now, I think I should have lost hope when I walked through the factory door saw Aria strapped to a chair, or maybe when I was knocked unconscious from behind. Or at least when I woke up strapped to a table. But I was foolish; I didn’t think the stalker would actually hurt me, or Aria. I severely underestimated her craziness, or overestimated her sanity. Either one works.

The bitch sure did put me in my place once she lifted that axe over her head, and let it fall onto my unsuspecting arm. She didn’t stop there either. She took a small scalpel and dug out my right eye to see ‘if there were really storms behind my eyes.’ All the while raving like a lunatic over my hair, and how she is sorry that it had to come to this, and how we will be able to live together in the after life. I don’t really know what she was spewing from her mouth; I was too preoccupied with fear and pain to really tune into her demented words.

My hope had left me when the door that I had been imagining being kicked open, actually was kicked open. My heart soared and I couldn’t help but to think ‘what took them so long?’ I lifted my head, ready to smile at my savior, but instead was confronted with another terrifying scene: Adrian was standing in the doorway where my rescuers were supposed to be. He was holding a gun and I grim frown. He took one look at the situation before him, me strapped to a table with one arm and eye, Aria somewhere behind me, and the stalker bloody and holding an axe. Without a word Adrian jerked the gun up and fired once. The stalker collapsed with a dull thud, and the axe skittered away. I could have fainted with relief.

Adrian was at my side in seconds. He undid my bindings, and helped me up. With my left arm around his shoulders, we stumbled – okay, I did most of the stumbling – over to Aria, and Adrian let her free too. I pulled her into a tight one-armed embrace, whispering how much I loved her, and how sorry I was that she had to get involved in this mess. I looked up to see Adrian standing a few feet away from us, smirking in a triumphant way. Poor Adrian…If he hadn’t been gloating he might have seen my stalker rise from the ground, pick up his discarded gun, and aim it at his head. I watched my brother’s head explode. It was an eerie sight. It was like watching myself get my head blown off. I couldn’t help but to think that it was foreshadowing my own death.

I didn’t have time to mourn his death. At that time, I was more worried about getting out alive.

In a split second I was sprinting, or rather trying to sprint, over to the axe the stalker had dropped. I picked it up in my left hand and spun around to see that the stalker had abandoned the gun and picked up another axe – This was a lumber factory after all – and was standing right in front of me. She swung it, slicing my stomach open with ease. I gave a kind of hissing sound and stumbled backwards against a worker’s bench. A lantern perched precariously on it tipped over and shattered, splattering oil everywhere and causing the flickering flame to flare up and begin to devour the wooden bench. I was not able to stop to think how dangerous that small fire was.

Without thinking I swung the axe, and sank it into the stalker’s skull, her maniacal thoughts were not fast enough to figure out how to doge the attack. Threat removed, my body had sagged with fatigue. I was able to get away from the fire, having become too big to contain. I slumped against the rough wooden floor and the last of my energy I had rolled over to look up at ceiling, slowly being obscured by smoke.

And that bring us full circle. Czar is dead. Adrian is dead. The stalker is dead. I will die. My father could be ruined, but Aria – Aria is still alive. She can still make it. She can go back to her family, and maybe even find love again. That thought sends a jagged pain through my heart…but if it would mean that she could be happy again, I guess I don’t mind. If Aria can go on and be happy, then it makes all this worth it somehow. I feel like I won even though I’m about to loose.

I’m cold, so very cold. I can feel the end coming. I guess Death got what he fucking wanted. I don’t mind dying, not anymore, not now that I know Aria is safe. It’s a huge relief to feel so calm and at peace after hours of fear coursing through my veins. I didn’t think it would ever end, and now that it has, it was like it never had happened. My heart beat isn’t crashing in my ears and I no longer reek of fear and stress, granted the reason I don’t hear my heart beat is because it is so weak, and the only reason I don’t smell of fear is because all this salty blood is masking it, but that isn’t the point. It’s over. It’s finally over.

Not being able to not look at Aria, I turn my head back to her. I have just one last thing to say to her. I raise my eyes up to hers and give a sad smile. “Please.” My voice comes out a dry whisper. “Live, Aria. Live.”

And I die.