Broken Julia (a to z)

Jaded eyes in a pale and gaunt face. Longing years had cost a lot; her beauty, her happiness, her sanity. Every pore of her body told the story of her life—the story of her love. It was long gone, but still there, a constant companion. He had sworn that he felt abject loneliness without her, but he had shown it with rejection. Broken Julia.

She was old and weary, still feeding off the fantasy man who had chosen to leave her for someone new. The craving, the want, the need for him, it consumed her every night and every day. He was her toxic obsession. She jumped when the doorbell rang. Broken Julia.

Jittery, she opened the door to a postman and signed for a parcel he held out to her. She grabbed the cardboard box and slammed the door shut. She reached for a knife and slashed the box, impatient to empty its contents on her sofa. She sighed. She liked what she saw. Broken Julia.

Julia called him, and after some convincing, he agreed to meet with her one last time. A plan came together in her mind, and with the little something from the online store, she had everything she needed to make him love her again. She dressed in a long dark skirt and a black shirt. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Her face looked even paler and thinner than before. Broken Julia.

He looked good, too good; she noticed him long before he saw her. It gave her the advantage of storing these pictures of him away for later use. After all this time, he had to suffer from their separation too, but he seemed to be happy, jaunty. She saw him scanning the coffee shop for her, and when their eyes met, her heart raced, and her stomach twisted into tiny little knots. He approached with long confident strides, and kissed her cold cheek, tracing her arm with a finger. Her eyes followed the move and it made room for new fantasies and memories. Broken Julia.

It felt good to have him back. He was hers again, but she disliked the distance between them. He had joined her for a drink, but he was not there. Putting on her most alluring mask, she asked if he would buy a cookie for her. She took advantage of his absence, producing a small flask from her purse—the online purchase. An elixir to make him love her again. She poured every last drop of it in his coffee cup and waited. Broken Julia.

He grinned, proffering the desired biscuit to her. He sat down opposite her and took a large sip of his coffee. She felt good. Her plan was working. If the elixir was as good as advertised, he would fall in love with her every moment now. Instead, he grew pale and held his stomach. He looked uneasy, queasy, and it made her worry. Something was wrong. Broken Julia.

He wanted to leave, but she reassured him that her house was just down the street and around the corner. If he wanted, he could wait it out on her couch. He obliged. He was sweating profusely now and bent over in pain. The ten-minute walk had never been so long. She led him to her home and to her couch, taking off his coat and his shoes. Once she was touching him, she couldn’t stop. He was protesting, but she undressed him, and he was too weak to put up a fight. Victory, she thought. Broken Julia.

His breathing became shallow, and his eyes were filled with knowing horror. He was about to die, and she was not saving him. He tried to move away from her seeing her for who she was, but his body was not responding anymore. Tired. Exhausted. He allowed it to happen. He took a deep painful breath, clutching his chest while she lay on top of him, running her hand through his sweat-drenched hair, and murmuring soothing words. The last person he saw was her; Broken Julia.

At first, she was shocked that he had died, but that was forgotten when she understood that he would never leave her again now. She dragged his lifeless body to the bedroom and heaved him onto her mattress. He was heavy, and it took all the strength she had to accomplish her mission. But now she had him where she wanted him. He was naked on her bed. He was hers again. Broken Julia.

She went back to the living room and collected his belongings. She found his phone and read through some messages and contemplated replying to some that made him appear alive. She decided against it. Instead, she destroyed the chip and the phone and disposed of them. No one would ever find him. He was with her. No one would take him away from her. No one. Broken Julia.

Once all evidence was taken care of, she went back to the bedroom where he lay on her bed. He looked as if he was sound asleep. Of course, he was not. His body was cold, and when she laid her head on his chest, there was no up and down of his breathing; there was no rhythmic sound of his heartbeat. Content, she sighed and cuddled close to him. Forever hers. This was perfect for her. Joined together in death. Broken Julia.

No one would have guessed that this tiny, jaded woman was filled with dark and twisted secrets. He would never feel abject loneliness without her. She would never feel abject loneliness again. She was happy. Broken Julia.

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