Romeo and Juliet

by Anasazi

Chapter 1

An Epiphany
"It's cold" was the first thing Nick thought. Cold and wet. Cold, hard, and wet. A stab of pain in the side of the head jolted him from his semi-unconscious state. "Where am I?" he thought as he slowly opened his eyes. He found himself staring at rows and rows of metal boxes neatly stacked together. "A warehouse", he thought. "THE warehouse", Nick corrected himself. He stood up, and his legs almost gave out. Something fell on his tattered shirt collar. Nick touched his shirt only to find a warm liquid. "Blood", he said in a whisper. And then, he remembered.
He remembered Her, the catalyst of all the events of the past few months. Her, the fair lady that had stolen his heart. Her, the woman whose kiss sent a million volts through every part of his body, his mind and his soul. Her, the woman whom he had left everyone, his family, his friends, to be with.

Her, the woman whom he had found what may have been a couple of hours ago, lying on the floor of the apartment where they planned to share the beginning of their life together. Her, the woman that lay unmoving with a plastic bag around her head, in the middle of a place where a struggle had taken place. A struggle for her life. A struggle she had lost.

"Grace", he whispered. Tears began softly streaming down his cheeks. "Grace", he said again, this time louder. "GRACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!", he screamed and fell to the floor, tears and sobs resounding in the hollow structure, a mourning chorus of loss.

"Hello, Nicholas", resounded a voice in the shadows. "You have been sleeping for quite a while", the voice said. The man's footsteps echoed in the warehouse. Nick saw a pair of snakeskin boots standing a few feet from him. He recognized them.

"You", he said. "YOU DID THIS! YOU KILLED HER!", he screamed while leaping toward his brother. But he was bruised, bound by the wrists and slow to move. The man quickly stepped out of Nick's path and landed a blow to Nick's swollen ribs.

"Ah!", Nick moaned while blood dripped on the floor. "Why", he said almost in a whisper. "Why did you do that to her? What did she ever do to you?", he said, looking straight in to the man's face, tears of sadness mixing with tears of rage.

"What happened she did it to herself", Aaron said. "Just like what is going to happen you have brought upon yourself. Because you betrayed our father, our brothers, our honor for an unworthy woman. The daughter of THE enemy. A FEI!", he screamed, his cool exterior betrayed by the rage in his eyes.

"What I did, I did out of love", Nick said, his tears giving way to a clarity he didn't know he could muster. "What you are doing, you are doing out of selfishness and insecurity", he said, looking straight into his older brother's eyes.

"How dare you?", sneered Aaron. "HOW DARE YOU JUDGE ME AFTER ALL THAT HAS HAPPENED?", he screamed, punching him so hard Nick fell on his knees. "Be thankful, my brother", he whispered menacingly, "for I will play Cain to your Abel, just like I was the Devil to her Eve. But know this, you killed her as much as I did and I enjoyed it as much as I'm going to enjoy ending your life. Any last words?"

Nick, kneeling in front of his brother, wanted everything to end. He craved deliverance from the nightmare he had been forced to go through. "You talk about my father", Nick said calmly. "When you have betrayed him more than I ever had. You talk about honor, when you have the least honor among us all. And you talk about brotherhood, when you have just murdered the woman that your own brother loved above all else. Kill me, cause if my hands are untied I'm going to make you pay for everything you've done."

Aaron took a step to the front and bowed until he was face to face with Nick. "Between you and I, brother.", Aaron said with evil, "I can understand why this happened. She had a hell of a body and I wanted to take her myself." Aaron smiled. But Nick did not reacted like Aaron expected. Nick was smiling with his eyes closed.

Nick knew his brother was speaking. He heard his voice, but didn't make out the words. He was thinking of Grace. How her hair moved with the wind, how her warm, silky skin felt to his touch, how her lips felt against his own. He did not smell the dampness of the warehouse, but rather the fragrance of the rosy soap she loved so much. How she had looked the first day they met, how she looked when he woke in the morning to find her snuggling in his arms. How she had looked when she first said: "I love you".