Malefica

Chapter Five- You Deserve Nothing Less Than Heaven

It had been two weeks since that maniac had killed Layla's boyfriend, and left her blind and horrified in a place she couldn't see. She still wasn't sure how she ended up in the hospital. "Who did this to you?" people kept asking. But they couldn't feel the fear she felt of him. It was a living thing, curled up in her chest. She thought about telling, but it made her want to puke. If he were to find out she had turned him in, he would come back, and whatever he did, she was sure it would be far worse than death.

It was all ready worse than death.

Every day that passed in which she couldn't see the world, the more she questioned its existence. She was slowly forgetting what things looked like. She could no longer exactly imagine her mother's face, or her father's...she couldn't recall the exact shade of purple her bedroom walls were painted. She wondered how long it would be before she forgot the way everything looked, until everything turned black.

The only thing she seemed to be able to recall precisely was his face, the wrinkles around those cold, cold eyes. How cruel that he had to be the last thing she saw. It was gnawing away at her. At night, her dreams were all encompassed in the scent of decaying flesh, and the feel of the spoon beneath her eyeballs. He had freed her, but at what cost?

Everyday, the darkness took over a little more.

She missed the things she had taken for granted- her mother's warm smile, her father's dove tattoo on his left bicep. She missed Jimmy. They had had plans. They were going to get married. If they had a daughter, she wanted to name her Darcy...if they had a son they could have named him Beck or Johnny. But they would never get married. She would never have children, she knew.

She curled up on her side, and pressed her pillow against her chest. It ached worse than any torture. This hole in her chest.

She realized that she had to turn him in. She couldn't let him ruin any more lives.

She felt her way to her folder on the floor, and grabbed a pen. She wrote, sloppily, shakily, her heart aching in her chest.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way, but there's nothing but darkness anymore. His name is Victor, no last name."

She hoped it was legible. Slowly, she made her way back into bed. She reached for the bottle of pain pills on her nightstand, and dumped the contents into her hand. She began crying, not in a harsh sad way, but just because she realized, as she dumped them into her mouth, and swallowed them with a swig of water, there was no turning back.

She lay there, flat, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. Suddenly she could hear footsteps in her room. "Mom? Is that you?" she asked. Her words were slurred. She was hoping she wouldn't have to be alive when her mother found her. She had hoped with everything in her. She couldn't handle it.

"No, my child," said a familiar smoky voice.

"Who are you?" she asked, but her lips did not move. She realized that her heart was so weak, almost to the point of not beating at all. She was almost gone.

"I have many names, but for now, you may call me Peace," the woman said. Beneath her still body, she felt the bed shift as the woman sat down.

"Peace?" Layla asked. She was so close to death now. She was ready for it.

She felt a hand on her cheek. So soft. "Look at me child," the voice said.

Layla laughed bitterly. "I can't," she whispered hoarsely.

"But you can," the voice was inches from her face, she could feel the warmth of breath. Suddenly, Layla felt herself floating, above her body.

"You have lived a good life, Layla.. You do good things for people, you are a fair being..." the voice trailed off. "Open your eyes, Layla.," said the voice. She was looking into a pair of solid white eyes.

She recognized them, suddenly. "I know you, you're-"

"Shhhh," she said. Layla looked around her. Everything was soft, the sun shining in shades of pastel orange and pink behind white clouds, the sky itself a picturesque blue. She felt like Dorothy waking up in Oz. The grass was a bright green, the flowers brighter still. In the distance, she saw a bridge. Standing on that bridge was man, his arms extended towards her. Her heart leapt in her chest. "Jim," she breathed, walking slowly towards him.

"Go to him, my child. Cross the bridge. You deserve nothing less than heaven," the woman in the white suit said, smiling softly. She was beautiful, pure, unbiased.

Layla ran towards the bridge. She joined hands with Jim, his eyes wet with tears.

"I have missed you so much," she whispered, leaning into him.

"We're here now, together, forever."

They disappeared over the bridge, into the land of pastel pinks and blues.