The Soldier

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN JACOB

June hands me the fish she caught by the nearby river. I thank her and place the scaled fish onto the cooking pan once she has scaled and cleaned it. Leaving it there for a while, I finally sit on the couch in the living room staring at June as she sits on another couch across from me, staring back at me.

Her eyes are a rich brown that looks almost of gold. She's so radiant I can't even begin to describe it. I bet she doesn't even know.

"Jacob, I love you." she says.

I don't even know how many times we have told that to each other. I lost count weeks ago.

"I love you." Walking over towards her, I pull her into my arms. She lies her head on my chest.

And

That's

When

I

Kiss

Her.

I lift her up in my arms, kissing her straight on the lips. Her lips taste like warm honey, the kind you put in tea when you're feeling for something sweet. We fall to the couch's seat on each other's lips. I'm on top of her, my lips trailing down from her forehead. To her lips. To her neck. June gasps.

I don't know what is overcoming me. It's overwhelming; something powerful. I rub my lips along her jugular, feeling her tremble.

"Jacob we shouldn't." June croaks.

I love her. I do.

"We shouldn't." she repeats. "Jacob, stop. I'm really scared."

Scared.

I pull off her, lying beside her, hurt and confused.

She's panting and stiff. June is scared.

When I try to run my hand through her hair, she jumps and suppresses a scream.

I feel like a monster.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, June. I am." I say.

She shakes her head slowly, still lost stiff in the stage of fright. "No, it's not you; it's-" She can't even finish.

June Castor, the girl who was beat by a gang of cadets, the girl who use to gather flowers for teachers and me when we were little, bursts out crying. I've never seen her cry before.

I move away from her to give her some room. "Look, no. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." I tell her, my face scrunched in worry.

"No, I have to tell you, otherwise it wouldn't be fair to you." June hunches over, covering her head with her arms.

"No, it will be fair. It's your own thoughts, don't-" I argue.

"No, it wouldn't." she counters.

She counters.

I decide to let her win.

"I was molested, that's the reason why my memory was wiped and I moved, Jacob. But even when my memory was wiped, it didn't wipe it completely. I still remembered remnants of you, but every time I would focus on it, the memories would fade into the darkness before I could completely see your face. Every night, as I slept, your face would visit me in my dreams. You would reach for me, calling for me, but your face would be too tangible for me to see completely.