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The stars seemed to shine brighter, brighter than usual. Blinding almost, the reflation of the sky projected onto the ground below. Making it seem like I was walking on the stars, walking alone in the sky. My heart sutures with each step I take. I was given a matt green rubber bracelet the other day. But my nerves are up, unable to stop. The rubber flakes from my bracelet surround my feet. She just make me so nervous, I didn’t like it. After a few seconds passed, my bracelet was no longer held together. She, she is the one; the one worth fighting for, the one worth crying for, and the one worth killing for.
I placed down a bright yellow rose on the first step. Then stood by the big oak tree next to their mailbox. It hides me pretty good, haven't been spotted yet. She wore a yellow dress today with a little yellow rose in her hair, which I left her the night before. She would take anyone's breath away. Just like that. She has been receiving yellow roses for about seventeen days now, which is four hundred and eight hours, making it one million, four hundred and sixty-eight thousand, eight hundred seconds since the first flower. Now if I don’t stop by next year it would be thirty-one million five hundred fifty-six thousand nine hundred twenty six seconds. But if it was a leap year then it would be thirty-one million five hundred fifty-six thousand nine hundred twenty-six seconds. I am good at numbers.
“Hello?” a soft whisper stretched through the leaves.
There she was, her head tilted slightly which caught the light of the moon. Her eyes are so beautiful. Blue like the sky, no. Blue, blue like the deep dark sea, no. Blue like blood, yes. Not the red blood you see, the blood you see when you stare at your wrist. That's the blue, her eyes are perfect.
“I don’t know why you keep leaving me these, but… thank you.”
Her hair is like silk, it’s shines within the light. She flips her hair behind her shoulder and starts for the door. But she stops before reaching the handle. This is the first time she has ever done this, I didn’t mind it though. My precious…
Oops. She turned around starting to head to the stairs. She stops at the last step then freezes. Her eyes squint as a smile spreads across her face.
“Am I only getting yellow roses?”
She stood there for awhile then repeated herself. A few more steps forward and then stops again.
“Alright, I understand. Just to let you know I figured out your hiding spot about seven roses ago.”
OK that’s it, I turned around and started to walk down “Smith Street”. Luckily she didn’t follow me, all she did was go back inside. At this time I made my way down “Cherry Lane” I stopped at house thirty-four, which so happens to have yellow roses in their front yard, it’s been abandoned for about three years now. I picked one up and moved down the street. Since it’s ten forty-two at night and I live with a ninety-eight year old grandma, nobody in the house was awake. Which makes it easy to sneak in and out at night.
As I make my way down the stairs the next day I wondered something. What if she found out who I am? Would she still like me for the flowers or hate me all of a sudden? Once again I made it back to her house. Placed a vibrant yellow rose on the first step. What a dream to relive this every day. This time as she walks down the stairs, her usual carefree steps were heavy. Her dreamy blue blood eyes were filled with this, this terror. Her usual bright colored dress seemed to be dull and sad.
“My mother is sick, but you probably know that already. She has a few more weeks at least.”
She went down to pick up the rose then stopped. While looking up, her eyes filmed over with fear. Standing back up she took a few steps down, still looking around.
“Why won’t you let me see you? Do I know you that's why? If you care for me so much won’t you comfort me?”
Instead of going in she went and picked up the rose.
“I love roses, but I figure you know that. Also I guess you know my favorite color is yellow.”
She pulls off one pedal. She holds it in her hand for a about three thousand seconds, making it three minutes. Three thousand and one.
“You know I won’t get mad at you if you’re older than me. If you're twenty five that's fine, I will wait two years.”
Tears started to leak out of her eyes. She takes one step forward while still looking for me.
“We are twenty-six million six hundred twenty-nine thousand two hundred seconds apart, which is ten months, eight days, and five hours.”
What have I just done? The rose drifts from her hand, each pedal fights against gravity's force. Till it had no more strength, it laid there lifeless. That was my fault.
“Shi-” before I can even finish, I was halfway down the road.
“NO, don’t run wait. Let’s talk this out”
That’s when it happened, everything just went still. I missed it by seven seconds. But she didn’t have the chance. A red Chevrolet pickup truck, can go about 60 miles per hour within six point three seconds. Till they hit a girl. The worst part about the whole thing was he stopped just to see if she was dead. Then he left, didn’t call anyone or anything. She was treated like another roadkill. Her blood blue eyes turned red, while her blond locks got stained. Gravity won, now she lays lifeless.
“I am sorry, Judith, I loved you.”
Before you start attacking me, yes, I did call the police. It took them one thousand eight hundredth seconds, adding up to thirty minutes to arrive. Her funeral was Monday April fifth, it was sunny out with no clouds spotted. Everyone left after four, I stayed to keep her company for a few more minutes. It turned out to be ten, six hundred seconds.
“I was going to stop at twenty-five. That’s how many were killed, but you figured that when you saw me. Twenty-five roses for my twenty-five sins. I fell in love with you. I needed to show you that there was more to me than you already knew. Now you understand why the killing stopped about five months back, that's when I saw you. That’s when I fell in love. Don’t worry you will see me in two hours, make it one hundred twenty seconds. That’s how long it will take to get home and do what needs to be done.”
Twenty-six yellow roses lay on Judith’s casket. None laid on mine.