Page 10 of The Death of Kisses

“No.” The words were out of my throat before I willed it, then I pushed back the chair and stormed out the front door, down the cold steps, around the side of the house, into the darkness. The cigarette found my lips a moment later, shaking hands lighting it with frantic clicks of the lighter. I took a shaky drag, trying to stave off the rising panic, the rising dread—please, not again.

Three cigarettes later, my brother Lee’s gentle arm settled around my shoulders. He gently plucked the fourth cigarette from my fingertips, sensing my despair. “I can’t marry a guy I don’t even know,” I whispered brokenly, tears stinging my eyes, nearly spilling over as I almost revealed my deepest truth to him. My voice cracked, raw and trembling. “Lee, I am serious. I won’t do it. You might have to—” I swallowed hard, fighting back the flood of emotion— “you’ll have to force me before I become some lifeless housewife for someone I don’t love. I⁠—”

Tears brimmed in my eyes, blurring my vision as I fought to hold back the words, the secrets buried deep inside. I swiped at my eyes, voice barely a whisper. “Lee, it will not happen. I refuse to go through with this.”

He hesitated, then gently said, “Okay, Charlie. We’ll figure it out later. But now, come on— I need to get you back for school.” His steady voice guided me back toward the house, where the lights had dimmed and shadows danced across the navy sky, dark and endless.

The motorcycle’s hum roared to life beneath me, a symbol of my fading childhood, of the part of me that further died inside that house—the place that built me, broke me, and refused to let me go.

7

CHARLIE’S DAY

Present day - October 15th - Town of PineRidge - Population 5025 - 18 yr old

“Dad, I can clean up.” I stated as I grabbed the dishes from the table.

“Thanks sweetpea, how was your day at school?” He asked sipping on his glass of sweet tea as I walked with the dishes back to the kitchen.

“Oh you know, met the new girl Charlie and had normal pep rally cheer exercises, overall pretty normal.” I paused to look at him.

“Charlie had a rough day in therapy,” he hummed.

I cast a quick, anxious glance over my shoulder, my heart pounding. "She looks okay," I whispered, but doubt gnawed at me.

Dad scoffed dismissively, a cynical edge to his voice. "Most people do," he said, as if that should ease my mind.

The dishes clattered loudly into the sink as I hurried to turn on the water, steam rising in ghostly tendrils from the faucet while I waited for it to warm. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement outside—someone near the mailbox. My stomach clenched with a strange mixture of curiosity and unease.

Initially, I convinced myself it was a neighbor, since we lived close enough to town that in the stillness of night, people sometimes wandered past. The figure wasn't moving. It just stood there—completely still, hood drawn low, watching.

“Anna?” Dad’s voice made me jump.

I spun around sharply.

"Sorry, what?" I heard his voice, distant and unbothered, yet my mind was racing.

I swallowed the question I wanted to ask—about Jessica’s party. Instead, I dared to look back toward the window. The mailbox lay silently beneath the dim street light, unchanging.

And in that moment, as my breath hitched in my throat, the figure was gone. Vanished into the shadows as if it had never been there at all.

Finishing the dishes I grabbed the carton of ice cream and Dad flicked on the TV. We sat there eating our pints watching some older show that seemed to make him happy.

After a while he excused himself to go to bed and I nodded giving him a quick peck on the cheek before he shuffled upstairs to his bed.

The old show turned off and I stretched looking over to the microwave clock seeing it’s just over midnight. I shuffled past the kitchen and towards the bathroom grabbing my toothbrush. Brushing on autopilot, I flipped on the light in my bedroom and froze.

The figure stood across the street. Watching. Toothbrush hanging from my mouth, I stepped closer to the window. A car rolled past. Headlights washed over the road. When they disappeared, so had the figure. I stood there for another minute, staring at the empty stretch of pavement before finally shaking my head. Too little sleep. That's all it was. Climbing into bed I flipped my light off and drifted into a deep sleep.

8

MINE

Present day - October 16th -Town of PineRidge - Population 5025 - 18 yr old

Lee dropped me off at the house, making an excuse he couldn’t stay long. I waved him off like I always did, I was a big girl after all. He pulled out of the driveway a moment later, his black motorcycle growling with the distance. It took approximately five seconds for me to leave as well. I needed to walk, there was too much on my mind. So I grabbed my black hoodie, threw it over my head and left. There wasn’t much time before I made it into town. When I pushed my fingers into the large pocket in the front of my hoodie I found my gloves. An aching feeling that wound around my soul at yet another idiotic action of emotions I wasn’t equipped to handle. The accident. My bike. The gloves I had cherished as a second layer of skin. I pulled them on feeling the familiar weight and pull of them, my fingers flexing of their own accord. Satisfied with the fit I continued walking.

Marriage. The word tormented my mind, pounding against my chest like a cruel reminder of a past longing I can't forget, echoing through the depths of my soul with every restless beat. My feet pounded relentlessly against the cold concrete as I hurried toward the gym, each step fueled by an overwhelming rush of emotion. At first, I believed that working out might be my escape, my way to find peace amidst the chaos within me— but I was too restless, too storm-tossed to find solace in mere movement. I slipped quietly through the back door into the supply closet, my hands trembling as I pulled open the cool, metallic doors. My heart pounding, I reached for a syringe on the bottom shelf, clutching it like a lifeline. Turning toward the small black mini fridge off to the side, I felt the weight of my desperation and hope collide in that fleeting moment— searching for some kind of relief, some spark to quiet the chaos inside. Drugs seem like the simplest escape, the only way I can fall into sleep when everything else feels overwhelming and impossible to endure.