Escape

Dust covered her fingertips as they glided across the walls. The wooden planks creaked as her weight shifted with each step she took. Green vines peaked in from the outside uninvited. Mirror shards decorated the ground signifying a story lost to time.

All the while there was only one word she could think of to describe this place—an escape.

Just like there was only one word he could think of as he looked around the place—escape.

He had to escape. It was a prison disguised as a beautiful mansion.

He knew he should be grateful. Not many people had a mansion to themselves much less one that was designed by the greatest architecture money could hire and built with only the best materials. He knew that he should appreciate what he had. But he could care less.

He didn’t ask for this life. He didn’t ask for a life at all.

She imagined a different life where she wasn’t always on the run.

Perhaps one where she was the owner of a beautiful mansion such as this one. Oh what she would give to be born into a life of riches and luxury.

But the paintings on the walls continued to mock her. It reminded her that there were people who lived luxurious lives and that she wasn’t one of them.

Of all the paintings, however, one stood out. It was the last painting of multiple rows. It depicted a young boy, no older than 18. The first thing she noticed was that he looked sad. Whoever he was, he must’ve been the last owner of this house. The second thing that she noticed was that there was a golden plate hanging below covered in a heavy layer of dust. She blew on it once before using her fingers to remove the remaining dust.

“Xavier Ilyroa IV,” she read aloud.

He heard someone say his name before realizing that there was no one else here. For the first time in what felt like forever he was truly alone. He couldn’t figure out whether it was a good thing or not.

It felt nice not having someone constantly breathing down his neck, observing and judging everything he did. But the fact that this was only temporary lingered in the back of his head. In a few days time, he would be forced to spend the rest of his life with a woman he did not know. And then he would never be alone.

Xavier missed his younger days where his only worries were schoolwork. Now, he was forced into a marriage he did not want and an oil company he did not care for. He never asked to be born in this family. He didn’t ask to be born at all.

He glanced at the table where his father had left an image of the girl he was to wed. She was pretty—he’d give her that. But she wasn’t what he wanted. She wasn’t Julius.

Why must they live in a world where lovers can not be lovers because of their sex?

“I miss you Julius.” It was a confession meant for no one but himself.

Jules had never known her family. She was abandoned at the age of two. The police had discovered her crying in the swing set of a public park. She had been malnourished and neglected. Her story had made headlines.

TODDLER LEFT TO DIE—ABANDONED AT PARK

These were the words that dictated her life. After hearing her story, many couples wanted to adopt her. But after the story died down, she was quickly forgotten about and left to the foster system. So she stayed there.

Until she didn’t.

It’s what brought her to this abandoned building. Jules was looking for an escape and she had found it. She had tasted her first taste of freedom and now she was addicted. There was no one to tell her what to do. And even if they tried, she didn’t have to. She was free. She was happy. This was her safe place.

Every door she entered was a mystery waiting to be uncovered and discovered. Adrenaline rushed through her as she made her way to the second floor, excited to see what laid in store for her. And that’s when she saw it.

The mirror. It was broken and she assumed that it was also the source of the glass shards she had seen earlier. She stared at the mirror, expecting to see her reflection stare back.

She was only half right. Someone was staring back. It just wasn’t her reflection.

He was hallucinating. He had to be. Because when he glanced at the mirror, he saw wanted he wanted to see—it was Julius!

But at the same time, it wasn’t. His features were softer than he remembered. He was shorter too, and his hair was longer. The clothes he wore looked so different, too different. Something was wrong. The clothes he wore all looked wrong. Like it was from a different time period.

It didn’t matter. Because it was only a hallucination to begin with. Why must he give himself false hope? Why must the gods tempt him with the only thing he cannot have in this life.

His fist made impact with the mirror. The sound of glass shattering echoed in the vast but empty building. Adrenaline rushed through him numbing the pain from his hands. If only it numbed the emotional pain as well.

Xavier was furious. He was filled with raw anger.

(He didn’t want to admit that behind the anger was a boy who was in pain.)

Blood dripped down his hand onto the wooden floors.

Jules noticed that there was blood on the ground. There was no denying its distinctive metallic smell. It was a dark red that blended in with the darkness of the oak floors. But there was no denying that the substance was blood. The blood had created a trail with a splattering pattern. What had happened here? Why was this house abandoned—untouched for decades?

She wanted to find out so made the decision to follow the trail. It led her up the stairs to the second floor and in front of two twin doors.

With some difficulty she pushed the doors opened and she glanced inside.

She cried.

“Xavier! It’s me. It’s Julius.” She collapsed as she recalled her memories from another lifetime. It was no use now. There was nothing she could do but stare at the corpse of her past lover.

Xavier smiled. Julius was finally here even if he was a few lifetimes too late.