Bloody Mary // J. Hale

The truth revealed

Jasper stared into Jenna's eyes, bewildered. His breath came shallow, his body frozen as if struck by lightning. Memories—fragments of a life he couldn't recall, yet felt carved into his very being—pummelled his mind with unrelenting force.

The rain poured in sheets around them, drenching his hair and running in rivulets down his sharp jawline. Jenna's hand rested on his chest, trembling yet steady, her warmth piercing through the cold of his skin.

He loomed over her, but he no longer felt in control. The world around them blurred, colours bleeding together until only she remained. The air between them changed, crackling with a tension that was neither wholly human nor entirely of this world. Her presence tore through the walls of his fractured memories, bringing with it a flood he couldn't hold back.

"Juliette?" he whispered.

The name fell from his lips like a prayer, soft and broken, trembling as though the sound itself might undo him.

Jenna's breath hitched in her throat. Her wide, unblinking eyes searched his, desperate for answers. The name struck something deep within her—something buried, waiting, stirring. Her pulse raced, her heart pounding so loudly she thought the entire forest must hear it.

His eyes—swirling pools of molten gold streaked with crimson—held a depth far beyond mere hunger or fury. In their depths, Jenna saw herself reflected, but not the version she knew. Her own brown eyes and dark hair shifted, melding into something else entirely. The face staring back at her was hers, yet not hers: sun-kissed blonde hair framed a freckled face, green eyes glowing with a mixture of warmth and sorrow that seemed to pierce through time itself. It was as if she were looking into the soul of someone who had once been her, someone she had forgotten but had always known.

Jenna's breath caught in her throat, her pulse racing as the vision flickered like a dream. She blinked, but it was gone—vanished in an instant, leaving behind only the haunting weight of its presence.

The air seemed to pulse, a rhythmic vibration that resonated deep within her chest. Jenna's body trembled as a familiar voice surged through her mind like a melody carried on the wind.

That is me.

Her lips parted, a soft gasp escaping as hot tears streamed down her cheeks. Her hands made it up to his hair on instinct. She continued to stroke his golden locks, her fingers trembling as they wove through his hair. The motion felt strangely familiar, like the revival of a muscle memory long forgotten. She didn't know why she was doing it—only that she had to. It was instinctual, the echo of a gesture etched into her soul, carried over lifetimes she hadn't known were hers.

"Juliette..." she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of the name. It felt foreign on her tongue, yet it resonated so deeply that it ached. The syllables rolled out like an invocation, as though speaking the name could summon something lost. Something whole.

The voice returned, louder this time, resonating with a haunting certainty. It wasn't a shout but a melody—soft, persistent, woven from strands of truth she could no longer ignore.

We are one, yet all are one.

Her head throbbed as the realization crashed into her, a tidal wave of recognition that swept away the fragile walls of her understanding. The woman in the reflection—the one who had appeared like a spectre in her dreams, whispering warnings, guiding her hands in moments of peril—was not a stranger. She wasn't a guardian. She wasn't a ghost.

She was her.

Or, rather, they were the same person.

I am Juliette.