This is a twisted story of a twisted family with a twisted life. And I have the most twisted one of all.

What a joy.

Maybe this is just another clichéd story, maybe it isn't. These are life's truths. You don't believe me? I don't blame you. I used to think the same way, until two months ago.

It had been a normal day. I was hanging out with my friends, also known as the social rejects. That could seem depressing to some, but I don't see anything wrong with them. They were wonderful, and, in my eyes, perfect.

Oh, how innocent I was.

But I didn't worry about it, and I needn't have, because he came. He showed me everything there was to know about life. They called him a geek; a freak, but I knew that he wasn't. He was just… different.

I got to know him, and… that was that. My façade of guardedness evaporated. Despite everything he said about love not existing, I fell in love. With him. Those few weeks were so blissful. I should have known that it was too good to be true.

Why? Because my mother found out about him. Now, most mothers are either overjoyed or become overprotective when they find out that their children are in a relationship, but mine was just furious.

Yes, she has dated and been heartbroken. Yes, she has been married and divorced. Yes, when she thought that she had finally found the man of her dreams, he died.

But does she have to think that, just because her life had gone awry, others' would too? Does she have to keep me from seeing him ever again?

I look out of my window at the snow tumbling down out of the sky. Under the glow of the night sky, it seems so much like the colour of his eyes.

I want to stare into his icy-blue eyes. I want to listen to his soft voice. I want to hear what he has to say. But most of all, I want to be with him.

An idea occurs to me and I don't even stop to contemplate it. The urge to see him is too strong. It's easy. I can just slip out, and my mother wouldn't even notice till late, by which time I would be back. I lower myself onto the ledge, only to find myself falling.

I awake to find my mom peering anxiously at me. She is worried about me. Well, so miracles do occur.

"I found you outside," she whispers. "Why did you jump?"

"I didn't jump. I was trying to find my freedom, which you apparently aren't going to give me!"

She figures out what I mean right away. "You. Risked. Your. Life. For. Him?" she says, her face the epitome of fury.

As I start to reply, the doorbell rings. "Jessie? You in here? Horrible rumours have been spreading about you. Are you okay?" comes a voice. His voice.

My mother recognises it, too. The door is banged open by her. He takes a step back as he notices my mother's fierce gaze.

"I just came her to-"

"To what? To corrupt my daughter further? To kill her?" she screams.


"I'll tell you what to do. Die."

Screams, followed by a vicious silence. My boyfriend is lying dead on the floor, and my mother still looks insane.

I drop to my knees, but I can't cry. I don't even feel sad, just numb. My boyfriend is dead, a knife plunged into his stomach, and all I do is stare at the wall. Oh, god. What a monster I must be.

"I guess you're going to report me, then," my mother states in a matter-of-fact tone, without even the slightest trace of guilt.

I choke, and finally manage to get the words out.

"No. I'm not going to. Whatever you did, I need you."

What am I saying?

My mother looks surprised. Awestruck. Ecstatic, even.

Then I realise what that sounded like.

"No!" I blurted out. "What I mean is, I need your financial support. Why would I ever want to know you as a mom? Have you ever been there for me? NEVER. And you- you killed- killed him."

The grief hits now and I'm reduced to sobs. My mother's face takes on a cold, hard, mask.

"You won't need any financial support, honey," she states.


I'm answered by a cold, hard knife plunging into my chest. Everything horrible I've ever done flashes before my eyes. It's complicated, the way I manage to remember every single detail, every single second in slow motion in less than a second. Pain fills me, rendering me unable to think. I'm bleeding, inside and out. I know that I'm going to die, that my mother won't take me to the hospital. Why am I suddenly unable to see? I resist death with every ounce of strength I have, but I cannot do so for long. I will die. I know it.

I can't breathe now. I have no will to fight. I am dead. Death is not how I envisioned it to be. I had always dreamed of eternal sleep. However, this is different. I cannot see, but I can comprehend. I cannot hear, but I know what you are saying. I can feel, just in a different way. I am not physically present, but I am there.

I am there when you whisper, "Oh, Jessie."

I am there as you gather all your courage to do something that you would never have dared to do when I was alive: kiss me firmly on the lips, leaving an imprint that, even in death, will never fade away.