I Am Lily

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 13 (v.1)

Submitted: July 14, 2008

Reads: 165

Comments: 2

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 14, 2008



I was tormented by dreams of Dylan and our necklace through the whole night. I didn’t get even a wink of sleep – how could he do this to me? After all we’d been through, how could he abandon me and our relationship in such a short, abrupt time? Didn’t I matter to him? Didn’t we – us – matter?
Tears streamed down my face and into the soft blankets of my bed. I didn’t bother wiping the streaks away, letting it soak my pillow and run into my hair…just a bit more of the memories I didn’t want to let go.
“Dylan,” I whispered hoarsely into the darkness. “Why did you leave me? Why?” My sobs got louder, and I buried my face into my bed so my mother in the next room wouldn’t hear. “I thought you loved me,” I whispered. My voice cracked.
The next day, I didn’t go to school again. I boarded the bus, the bus I’d always take with Dylan to go on our special ditch-school rides. I sat at a single window seat, not knowing where it was I wanted to go, only knowing I wished to get away. No more tears came this time, though I found myself almost expecting them to plague me again. No more tears – I’d shed all there was to shed in my eyes, and this time, only the empty, hollowness remained inside me. The hollowness that was even worse than crying.
I got off the bus and before I realized where I’d come, it was already off. I felt my heart thud to the bottom of the stomach; it was the train station. The place Dylan and I had been only a day before, shouting through tears at each other – the place where we’d broken up. I could still picture him, standing there in the middle of the platform, throwing his necklace into the lonely wastebasket standing off near the rails. My heart beat wildly, but all the while, I knew this was exactly where I’d wanted to come.
Because it was morning, people crowded the station more than yesterday. They were bustling and shouting at each other, mothers and fathers and couples and businessmen, all going about their daily lives according to their orderly schedules. They all seemed sure of where they were going, or where they were supposed to go. Everyone seemed confident and busy – everyone but me.
That was when I heard the raised voices. First came a loud, barking voice that automatically identified itself as that of a burly cop.
“What the hell you think you’re doing, kid? What, you’re a homeless or something? You looking for food in that bin?”
Then came a much younger voice, the voice I knew so well. “No sir – I’m just looking for something here – I forgot and left something yesterday, I need to get it back –”
“Well, you don’t go rummaging around public trashcans for stuff you left yesterday,” the cop growled. “If you threw it in the trash, it’s trash. You don’t come back for trash.”
“It’s not trash, sir – honest, I didn’t mean to throw it away – accident – I’ll just get it and go – it’s a really special thing to me, I can’t afford to lose it.”
I tried pushed my way through the crowd.
“Here – see, sir? I got it. I’ll go now.”
“What’s that – a necklace? You come here looking for a necklace?”
I got through to the middle of the station.
“Dylan!” I yelled.
The two of them froze and looked at me, the cop with his hand clenched around Dylan’s arm, Dylan with the two necklaces dangling from his fingers.
“Lily?” Dylan said.
I gulped, and I could almost feel the fresh tears suddenly welling up. I gave a shy, half-smile. “I came back for my necklace.”
We were at the beach again. Our place. Our place of memories, of dreams, of love.
“I’m really sorry, Lil,” Dylan said, not looking at me. “I’m sorry for all those terrible things I said to you – I really shouldn’t have. I’m sorry for the way I treated you – that’s not me, it just isn’t.” He glanced at me, his charming smile in place, pleading for me to understand. “You know me, right?”
I smiled back at him, blissfully happy. “Yes,” I answered. “I know you.”
He faced forward again. “I’m sorry for everything.”
We stayed there on the beach bench, silent with our arms around each other, Dylan’s backpack lying forgotten beside us.
“Hey, you want to drink something?” Dylan asked after awhile. “There’s a vending machine somewhere back there –” He pointed vaguely to a distance well behind us, where a few people were milling around a jumble of benches. “–and I could get something. Soda?”
“Okay,” I said, smiling. “I’ll stay here.”
“Oh, and watch the bag,” he said, giving me a light kiss on the forehead and jogging off. “I’ll be right back.”
I watched him go before turning back.
His cell was sitting beside me, tossed carelessly on the bench. Without a thought I flipped it open, pleased to see I was still his number one contact. I clicked into his messages, and saw he’d been recently texting someone – Rick, one of his friends and one I didn’t especially like. He was a hothead and treated me indifferently, like he didn’t approve of me and Dylan’s relationship.
I opened the most recent text.
Hey Rick, Dylan had written, I got her now. We’re at the beach, it’s all ready. I’ll finish her off within the hour.
I froze, staring at the message. Finish her off? Her? Beach?
Oh. My. God.
Was he talking about me?
My hand trembled and the cell crashed to the ground. On sudden instinct, I grabbed Dylan’s backpack and fumbled with the zipper. I don’t know what exactly it was that made me do it, but I unzipped it, opened it wide, and peered inside.
Right in full view was a gun.

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