The Death of Kisses
Safe Now Lilly
Lilly’s body shouldn’t have bent like that; her arm wasn’t meant to twist in that direction; her screams shouldn’t have sounded like that.
I watched through the lens of the scope; each inhale and exhale I took, the rifle bobbed the crosshairs slightly.
Tracking the movement with a clear focus.
The gun moved as if it were my own arm. Dad never liked my hunting, but he never understood the simpler choice.
The deer off to the left scattered when the first scream ripped from her throat.
Lilly’s dad ripped her dress from her body, pinning her head into the soft plush grass beneath her. Tears poured from her face as she pleaded with him; she was around my age. Barely eighteen, still in school. Old enough to be legal but young enough not to understand the difference.
Mr. Wyatt robbed her of her innocence; I’d watched it drain out of her these past couple of weeks. “I’m fine Charlotte, leave it alone.” Lilly would tell me, but it wasn’t enough.
I saw the bruises she’d covered up with three layers of makeup. I watched her smile fade away into a calm mask of despair. He’d been beating her mother well before we turned twelve. She was only the next step in the process. I would have done anything to stop her pain.
My hands moved in a familiar rhythm, the same gentle ease that had ingrained itself into my brain. The bolt locked the bullet in the chamber before I’d made up my mind.
The safety clicked without my noticing it.
Lilly had been crawling away while Mr. Wyatt unfastened his pants.
“Now you be good little bug, I’ll take care of you.
” He collapsed to his knees with a raw, guttural grunt, every fiber of his being trembling with dark intensity.
Her scream tore through the peaceful silence of the forest like a piercing lightning bolt, shattering the tranquil air into shards of chaos.
Birds took to the sky in frantic, panicked flight, their screams echoing hers, mourning the violence inflicted upon her.
It tore at my very soul, ripping through me with a barrage of anguished, relentless punches.
The sickening sound of his pleasure—how he reveled in her pain—was the most heartbreaking of all, a twisted symphony that made my stomach churn.
He clawed at her hair, twisting her body cruelly as black mascara streamed down her face, tracing her despair.
His hands pinched her nipples with barbaric force, forcing himself deeper inside her as she cried out in agony, her tears a testament to her suffering, pouring down in helpless sobs that echoed the depths of her despair.
Truth be told, I should have stopped it before it escalated. It should have been a mercy for my best friend. Except I didn’t want her to feel mercy; I wanted her to feel as broken as I felt. Helpless, afraid, and utterly alone.
Mr. Wyatt groaned his release into Lilly’s crumpled body. She was so still one would think her dead. She wasn’t dead, though, only unconscious.
He sank back, a Marlboro clenched between his lips, the flick of the lighter igniting and his deep inhale was the moment that shattered me.
I saw him extinguish the burning cigarette on her bare inner thigh — mark number eight.
Eight relentless weeks of unthinkable torment, locked away in that suffocating silence, and now this—a brutal, unforgiving scar carved into her flesh.
My heart beat slowed down to a crawl; everything narrowed to that moment.
Mr. Wyatt’s head between my crosshairs, even the wind didn’t dare blow in my direction. A perfect shot lined up.
The trigger was pulled, a deafening bang shattering the silence as the gun slammed into my shoulder—I couldn’t dare flinch, my breath held tight inside me.
Lilly’s eyes fluttered open, a flicker of life amidst the chaos, as the thunderous sound tore through the trees.
Then, the sickening thud of brain matter bursting across her back struck me—even in that twisted moment, I couldn’t help but feel a fleeting, sick smile creep over my face.
Safe now Lilly.