Jude Monologue

The faint echo of screams. The crunching of leaves under footsteps, getting faster with every exhale. A drum, beating from within. Thoughts clouded with realisation of the truth and the lies which have prevented it from surfacing amongst the chaos. The girls are all frauds! Murderers!

She imagined him walking to her from the far side of the dead-end street, where only he could transcend that barrier. He towered her, with dark hair and olive skin and a nose that looked like it had been broken once and never healed quite right. It made his face look strong, but it was nothing imposing. His gait was calm, confident, unhurried. His hands, long-fingered and calloused from working with wood, rested peaceably at his sides. She saved the thought of his eyes for later, because oddly, all of her frailty and all of his strength coexisted together in there. But that was just her imagination.

Atkinson had just finished fixing the wobbly table and turned facing me. His face was smeared with grime, sweat and blood. His once friendly mask revealed itself to be the one in the sketch; blank yet full of melancholy. The only thing missing to complete the sketch was the striped jumpsuit.

“For a moment the last sunshine fell with romantic affection on her glowing face; her voice compelled me forward breathlessly as I listened - then the glow faded, each light deserting her with lingering regret, like children leaving a pleasant street at dusk.”

In her mind’s eye, she now pictured him handsome with strong eyes that would one sunrise, take her away from the life she was destined to live. She knew she should go for help and then run to school to finish her final test to win the right to alter what she would some sunrise become. However, deep down, she could not make herself leave his side. This was her first opportunity to have a real friend, and she would not give this up for any prize on the Gods’

“What the Hell?!” The guy yells as he flails in the cold water. He sounds more startled then angry. Thank goodness for small favors.

My shoelaces whipped at the backs of my ankles, urging me forward. Rain-drenched, I ran. I had felt the venom of desperation before, but never of this caliber -this was its purest form. It tasted of whiskey. I 'd never been fond of whiskey. The branches of the fir trees scraped against my cheeks and I forced myself to feel each individual needle. I deserved as much. His voice laughed “Come find me” amongst the trees, echoing throughout the forest. It was a wet winter, as wet as one would think a winter could be with Washington 's climate. I slipped on the moss coated roots and sliced my right cheek on a jagged rock. By midnight, it would all be over.

He could feel her next to him, holding tightly onto his hand as they trekked through the quiet city. The sheer beauty invaded every ounce of his being, filling him with a feeling that could only be described as breathtaking, overwhelming joy. Her smile, beautifully illuminated by the lights around them, refused to dull. The world around them seemed to disappear with every small kiss they stole from each

She looked towards me, her face growing ever paler, she trembled, as tears began to run down her, once rosy red cheeks. her gaping mouth began to move, trying to form words. however she found it difficult as her breath was leaving her

He turned his head. With features distorted in pain, he looked directly at her. The longing in his eyes was unmistakable. His mouth began to move. She couldn’t hear any words. There was only silence. His hand rose wavering beckoning her to come closer.

Purple bruises were scattered across her frail wrist like grotesque, swollen beetles. Her knee jutted out awkwardly to her side. Her bleeding, cracked lips were shrunken to a tiny buttonhole. Her tongue stuck out between her teeth like a piece of rubber. Her eyelids fluttered feebly as she lay there - defeated, defenseless, and desolate. Her chest heaved up and down, as her lungs fought for breath – she was barely alive. A caked, muddy trail of shoeprints followed him out the door. He had gotten away again. Tears prickled at the back of my eyes. My throat swelled up as my steely resolve began to dissolve. Grief shook my shoulders like an inner earthquake, the world around me crashing down. A nauseating mixture of relief and horror clenched tightly onto my loins – like when you finally stop an itch, only to realize that you’ve ripped a hole in your

Ruby Dawson groaned in anger for the umpteenth time that hour and her palm flew onto the desk with shattering force, sending important looking documents flying into the air and onto the floor. Her trusted, and fortunately, patient adviser collected them calmly and placed them back so she could scatter them again, if so was her desire. Joseph Watt was not one to stand in the way of her misdirected rage – he simply took it as it came.

His face was low; his voice was melancholy and his eyes looked as hurt as I, but his lips… Oh his lips – they were pulling at the corners, and he may have been resisting, but his lips said words that she proclaimed. “Liar” and suddenly the corners tugged down as his eyes looked as if they had faced the storms of an angry god many times over. Laughing she continued, for she had faced the wrath of those worse than any god many a time “You didn’t even love me to begin with!“

As blue eyes closed, senses inhaling his essence, and her head finding rest in the curve of his collar. A safe haven reserved only for her. "So much." With Bruce grounding her to his earthy form, she wasn’t afraid to reveal her mistakes – that ever mistake she made brought her closer to him. Not afraid of the unknown, knowing his tight hold would never falter in letting go. Because home existed in the heart. And her heart belonged to him. Everywhere he went, she was there, physical form or not, clinging to him like now, always there to wipe away his tears. Kiss away the monsters. And soothe all his worries and strife. “I’ll always be here with you. You won’t have to search long or hard to find me.” In her lover’s sweet embrace, she grabbed at everything he radiated with. Love. Longing. And redirected it with a press of her lips. A tender stroke to his wild curls. As if trying to mend the damage to his soul. Ease the years of loneliness to a dull ache. Treating his body and soul as a lover would, even after everything he’s done, everything she’s done, because that love connected them. Her presence there to show him that he deserved love, and deserved her. That if she loved him, took his pain, anguish, love, everything that made him Bruce, and sewn it to her own heart... That he was capable of more than just destruction. He was her

I jolted awake in fear. I had a dream. A weird dream. A vivid dream. It was full of people shouting and bright flashes of light. It was confusing yet clear, like some part of me understood it. I didn’t know it would be important then but now I know. How? Well, it happened like this…