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JASMINE DRESSED UP AS THE FINAL GIRL, THE LAST ONE STANDING, THE ONE WHO SURVIVES THE KILLER'S MASSACRE... the one who gets away.
Her hometown was a barren plot of land outside of Salina, Kansas. The middle of nowhere. The sticks. An isolated, dreary place where nothing ever happens with a population of three thousand. The boredom of living in the Midwest could drive someone over the edge of sanity... But besides all this, her home was, most importantly, far from Los Angeles.
Arriving at her family farm in Gucci slides and a Balenciaga bag was quite the contradiction. Her sweet mother welcomed her only daughter with love, and all three of her little brothers were so grown up now. Already passing her height, they were the spitting image of her stepdad at ages 12, 13, and 14. He took great care of the kids and of her mom. She never looked happier.
"Well damn! Big city girl is back!" The gritty, raspy of a long-time smoker reached her in the bar. He was a man with a pot belly and a wad of tobacco stuck to his lower lip. With great effort, she recognized him as someone from high school, nearly a decade ago. They unexpectedly reunited in their town's sole bar, and people dressed up that Halloween Night, but no one was smeared in blood and stuck out like the final girl.
"How was New York?!"
"I was living in LA."
"Shit! How was that?"
Memories of nightclubs, modeling shoots, a Lambo, gold chains, burning brown eyes, a Puerto Rican beach house, and a Ghostface mask came to her.
"Indescribable."
"Deep. Still, there's no place like home, Jazzy-Jazz!"
The venue was a sad little bar one had to drive miles to. Her hometown was incredibly spacious and empty, just like most of rural America. If you didn't have a car, you weren't going anywhere. She learned that quickly and biked to get around that month back home.
At her local Walgreens, she bumped into a childhood friend who had two children pulling at her skirt. Everyone popped out babies, got married, and stayed in Kansas forever.
"Jasmine!? Jasmine Ellis?! Thought I'd never see you of all people again!"
A week after living here, she was already picking up her Southern twang again. Her mother laughed gingerly at how adorable it was and remarked how Jasmine was finally starting to sound like herself.
Denim overalls and heavy, weather-resistant boots were mandatory as she helped out on the farm. She stepped in cow shit more times than she'd like to admit. The grueling work hours to put in her part at home started at 6 in the morning. It was back-breaking work to keep up with her stepfather. Her brothers were at school again so he had much less help these days. Perfect timing for a homecoming.
She hated the manual labor but forced herself through it every time. In her mind, it was penance for all her sins. The dreadful loneliness in her heart was becoming easier to manage. No matter how much she sweat and bled, the hard work was a worthwhile distraction. She'd wipe her forehead after a long day's work and stare up at the burning sun, feeling the lightest she'd felt in a long, long time.
But sometimes in the middle of the night, she'd stare up at her ceiling with a heaviness that sunk her back into the abyss. The glow-in-the-dark stars from her childhood were still up there, and they reminded her of the starry night above his beach house in Puerto Rico. Sometimes, Benito's name would keep her up for hours, and she'd be back up at 6 AM again, with little sleep for the next grueling day.
While working to remedy her broken heart, she wished to spare the same pain in his. She was desperate to know how he was doing since breaking up with him, but wouldn't dare to reach out.
In that little bar outside of Salina, Kansas, exactly one year after meeting Benito Martinez that Halloween night, she got her answer.
The leaked picture went viral on every social media platform, breaking the internet. He was at the restaurant where he first met her, during a dinner with his family. Zoomed in far enough, they both had engagement rings on their finger, clear as day.
Making a joint statement, they confirmed their engagement and in the same breath asked for privacy. She went to his Instagram to discover that she was, suddenly, blocked.
The plunging coldness in her stomach ripped through her whole body, and she was finally, entirely submerged into the same abyss she wrestled with nightly.
She left the bar early that night and got on her bike, riding the five-mile stretch back to the farm on a lonesome, winding highway.
To move on like this.
Still, she treasured their time together, even all the fighting and hurtful words said to each other. Even though she regretted so much, she would've done this year all over again, a million times, knowing how it would've ended each time.
... I forgive you. I hope you forgive me, too.
And I love you, Benito.
ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ🌧 ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
The Un Verano Sin Ti tour was officially over, finally in agreement with his mentality on it. Benito Martinez solemnly stared into his reflection at the home he and Gabriela shared. The hot shower was on behind him, and her singing voice mixed with the running water as she washed herself, waiting for him to join her.
They were flying to Puerto Rico that day. His mother and Tití adored Gabriela; how could they not? She knew him for years. She was always there. She always took him back.
As his hands gripped the bathroom sink, he stared at his left hand's reflection. The gold engagement band decorated his ring finger. It felt so unusual... as if his true finger stopped right at the knuckle, and the rest of it, from the ring on, belonged to someone else.
In time it'd feel better because he was doing the right thing. He was going to be a good man for his wife. There was no one more deserving. This was how his life was supposed to play out.
