Remnants of My Happy Heart

The clock was striking midnight. Glancing over, she saw the rise and fall of the man's breath. Sliding the covers off, she began to dress. A breeze crept in the window and chills ran down her body. Bending over, she fixed the strap of her heels and grabbed her purse. Her bracelets jingled against each other. "Shit". The hair on her neck rose and she glanced back at him, still asleep on the bed. Taking a moment to admire him, she notices his muscles glistening under the faint moonlight. The color of his skin camouflaged his freckles, which dotted his face. Time to go. Looking at her watch, she left the room as quietly as possible. 12:01am. She's safe.

    The cold of winter had been cutting through her all day. Shivering, she opens the door to the house. The screams were the first thing she noticed. There were no words to describe the anger she felt rise through her. Running to the bathroom, she found her father bent over a lifeless body. Sharice lay in the murky red water.     Her father sent a lash across her face. Her ears began to rang and her vision went blurry. This was all their fault. Her parents had ruined the only true family she had left. Their actions had been heinous. She knew her actions had contradicted her intent. Yet, what was she supposed to do? Steal her sister away from the family home?     No, she knew what it was. She had to kill those who had murdered her sister. Her parents were next, and she knew she had to get revenge.

She chipped away at her nail polish, wishing she hadn’t shown up to the diner. “Come on, Jo, you have to eat,” he placed his finger under her chin, lifting her face to look her in the eyes. Jocelyn shook free from his grasp, “You know I can’t, Olly.” She looked out the window, watching the traffic. The rain was falling, and she was still wet from the walk to the diner. Looking back at Oliver, she felt her heart drop. His hands were in his lap, and he had been staring out the window, too. What’s going on in that mind? She knew why he had asked to meet her at the diner – it was all in his plan to get her to eat again. After all, she hadn’t had a bite for two days. “Please, Jo,” his voice was wavering, “for me?” His dark, brown eyes penetrated through her and she felt a pang of guilt. Why did I come here? She knew she wasn’t going to eat and that was torture for Oliver.             “You can’t surv...