OUR LOVE WILL BE REMEMBERED...
Chapter 26
In the four months it took me to go from meeting Irene to killing Irene I kept visiting my aunt often. I never brought Irene with me though, not after the Jane fiasco.
I found myself talking more and more with Juliet. The girl was probably getting more comfortable with me and felt more at ease.
It was nice because she had an interesting look on things.
One day we were talking about the men of the Round Table and the stories around it, Tristan and Isolde, Lancelot, Arthur and Guinevere when she told me, “They were ALL cowards! Because they didn’t want to admit it!”
I had smiled at her, though I couldn’t really see what she meant. “Admit what?”
“That they loved duty more than they loved their lady,” she had exclaimed like it was the most obvious thing and for a second I actually understood her opinion… and for an instant I felt like them, like a coward for everything I had done because I had thought about it, about the fact that maybe I was enjoying the killing part more than the loving one… duty over love…
Over those visits, Juliet became my friend. She felt like my closest friend actually, because for some reason she seemed to get me. Well not entirely, but still. The other paramedics I spent time with, called friend had completely different sets of mind than my own, and not just the killing ladies aspect, the everything aspects. They didn’t see things the way I did. It was different with Juliet. Even though she didn’t saw everything the way I did, she understood me, my opinions. She got me. To an extent though, considering she couldn’t get the whole killing thing. But even though she didn’t know that, for some reason I felt like I was being honest with her, I was being myself, even with this huge weight, this huge secret hanging over me, I felt like she knew me, understood me…
That couldn’t be a good thing…
YOU ARE READING
Our Love Will Be Remembered
HorrorFollow Tristan as he shares his story, the story of every girl he loved, of every girl he killed, and of the one love that felt impossible to end, even for him.
