Chapter Thirty One: A Conqured Demise

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Asher's POV

The walls float around me in a shroud of darkness, and not even a morsel of oxygen can penetrate my mind. I crumble on my knees as the tide resurfaces in bitter lamentation and a river of tears consume me. I let out a shallow exhale while I succumb to the endless pivots of Juliet, realizing I'll never get to make passionate love to her again. My heart races inside my chest, thumping while golden locks and vibrant eyes intertwine inside my head. Her death rips apart the fabric of my existence into two breaths; one expires from a man of remorse, and the last one decimates in the arms of Juliet's demise.

Lately, I haven't been able to confront my nightmares of us drifting through a time where death only departs from our love. I think because in reality I knew Juliet was already gone. I'd even spent countless hours analyzing the trajectory of a single bullet, and I know it's complete madness. Although surface cracks still expand in my psyche, and Lynn even questioned the accuracy of my memories. How do I trust something to be accurate when it could only be a dream? I'm afraid of what I'm capable of the second I accept that Juliet's dead, and instead of being a boy of humility, I turn to my past.

I still discern all the acts I committed in hopes of seizing Juliet's heart, but nothing compares to what I did to Ajiona's father, Christopher Reed. I took a man born of integrity, stripped him of his birthright, and erased the Officer, who saved people from gunshots barreling through the guns of men made like me. Everything I did to Chris, I called it karma when it was really a boy that didn't know how to be a man. Then my conscience even questioned why I decimated such a noble father? I only closed my eyes, repeating what Juliet had already told me as I recalled Chris weeping on the floor of his apartment.

"Asher, he called your mother a Junkie," Juliet whispers, placing the plastic bag in the palm of my hand as I close my fist, glaring at his home. "and after she burned to death in a fire, he didn't stop there. No, he continued until he said you were some dumb kid who didn't know what he was even talking about. Christopher Reed treated you just like he treated your father all those years ago when they found one beer inside his car? If people like Christopher Reed don't deserve to die, then God would have delivered him before he ever inhaled methamphetamine. Which he didn't because Christopher doesn't deserve to be saved."

"My mom used to cry at night, saying how no one ever believed my dad was sober, and then she started using drugs. All she ever wanted was justice, but they denied her peace. Then he still dared to drink from a cup that said The Worlds Best Dad, knowing damn well he ruined mine. How do I forgive a man for destroying my entire family? For making me an orphan on the streets?" I question, facing the apartment once more as Juliet wraps her arms around me, kissing my cheek.

"Asher, you have a family now, and we'll make sure you're never without us; as long as time stands, we will never part. This moment in itself is the beginning of a long road paved in transcendence. It's just sad Ajiona won't enjoy the beauty in this city now that her father's broken. It's a shame, and transparency was one of her campaign promises. I wonder how she handles the world's best father of the damned." Juliet taunts with a smile playing on her lips as she sits in the passenger seat of her car.

The bedroom encompasses me as I draw in a gulp of air, attempting to calm my raging heart while I lay on the floor, clenching my chest. A dozen sheets of paper scatter the floor, littered with photos of Juliet Goulding and Analise Blackmore. Their identical allure stumbles even the brightest minds at Rosewood Academy almost if Juliet bores Analise's blood. Their similarities whisper of the rebirth and death of Analise to the vast emptiness of the ocean. Suddenly, I'm lost in the bitter silence of my dorm room as I deteriorate in my fragile mind envisioning the heartbroken girl I lost on the bridge.

I thrust myself on my feet, trying to visualize all the ways I can lose consciousness amongst the rubble of Andre's snores. I never wanted him to see misery flashing in my eyes. Andre, in all his wrath, would gladly burn down a building to preserve the indignation of his heart, and if I had reason to set the whole city on fire, everything would smolder into dusk. I believe Andre's so quick to anger because, after a while, it was the only emotion his father would show. When Gabriella left, everything withered out of Elijah's fingertips, and the darkness became an unbreakable solitude.

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