The Book Of Jude

Chapter Seventeen: Paradise Lost

'For now the thought both of lost happiness and lasting pain torments him'

John Milton, Paradise Lost, Lines 54-56

"No!" Jude heard herself yell, but as if she was observing the scene from very far away. She watched, disassociated from everything, and she saw Lex, with Darcy by his side, sprint from a nearby point to his friend's side. She watched as Lex cradled Rhys' head in his lap and called frantically for help. Crowds began to gather around the pair, as two large men did their best to restrain the frantic driver. Jude looked up at the woman they were barely able to hang onto. She was blonde and very young--eighteen, Jude guessed.

After a few more moments of aloof observation, something snapped in Jude's mind. She should be there by Rhys' side as he lay on the ground, probably in pain...probably...

"Oh, God," she whispered hoarsely as she slammed back into reality. Pulling her feet from where they seemed planted, she raced over to the street and pushed through the crowd. Kneeling by him, she took his hand. "Rhys, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Dry sobs rocked her small body. Someone placed a hand on her shoulder--Lex, probably, she reasoned. But she neither saw nor heard anything after that except Rhys lying silently on the ground at her knees.

Flashing lights. People backing away from them. A man speaking to her and another bending over Rhys. Hands seized her around the arms and lifted her to her feet. She could not look at the person who had a vice grip around her arms and was shaking her. Her eyes were glued to Rhys as they placed him on a stretcher and then hoisted him into the back of an ambulance. The sound of the doors of the rig slamming closed behind her jolted her senses. She heard everything now--the high-pitched scream of the sirens, people bustling and shouting around them, Darcy whining at her side, Lex shaking her, willing her to listen to him.

She turned to face him finally. "I'm never going to see him again," she thought.

"Sure you will, doll." She was surprised at this, not aware that she'd spoken aloud. "But we have to go now, Jude."

She allowed an officer to usher her into the back seat of a police cruiser. Lex handed Darcy's lead to a friend standing nearby. "Marcus?" Jude wondered, numbly as Lex hopped in next to her and the car sped off, trailing the ambulance.

***

It all felt like an odd sort of dream. Everyone moved in slow motion. All sounds seemed like nothing more than faint echoes. Her limbs felt heavy, like trying to move under water. It took all her concentration just to force herself to breath. Her eyes forgot to blink. So she sat in the waiting room of the hospital, Lex in the cheap, plastic chair next to her. Not blinking, not moving, not hearing anything that was said to her, she just sat there, numb and waiting.

An eternity passed in a little under three hours. At the end of that eternity, a man dressed in white holding a clipboard, sat down and bowed his head. She knew what this meant. Enough movies showed doctors delivering bad news in this exact manner. Was there a manual for how to act when you tell someone that the only person they ever loved is dead?

The man had apparently spoken to her, but she was deaf to his voice, for in the next instance, Lex placed a hand on her shoulder and gently shook her.

"Jude, do you want to see him?" Did she want to see him? Hadn't she already done enough? "Jude?" Lex was trying to get her attention.

"I can't..." she managed to choke out before burying her face in her hands.

The doctor and Lex exchanged a few hushed words, so that she would not hear.

But the words were lost on her anyway. She didn't hear a single syllable, but she knew all the same. Rhys was never coming back to her. The doctor and Lex rose to talk privately, leaving Jude in the horrible plastic chairs alone.

This was her fault. This is what the truth gets you. Or maybe just the truth from her lips. She killed him, and he died hating her.

"Jude," Lex was now kneeling in front of her. "I told Marcus to drop Darcy off at Adda's. Do you want me to take you there?" Her cold hands were wrapped in his warm grasp.

"No." Her voice was strange and flat and dispassionate to her ears.

"You can't stay here, doll. C'mon, let's go."

"No!" She wrenched her hands away from him and side stepped him, heading for the automatic doors. She knew he was just as much at a loss as she was and that he was trying to help, but she couldn't help being angry at him, at everyone. "Leave me alone." She spun toward the door, breaking any grasp he had on her, and stormed out.

"Where are you going?" He called after her, but she had disappeared into the night.

Only the howl of the wind from an oncoming storm greeted his ears. Nothing more. She was gone...where, only God knows. But the self-destructive behavior she displayed alarmed him. Who knows what she would do next. But far be it for him to stop her.

"Mr. Innes?"

Lex turned back to the doctor. "Yeah?"He hung his head. The day had been so perfect. Who would have guessed that at the end of it, he would be arranging things alone after his best friend had died?

"You said he had no family?"

"Not that I am aware of. His parents died when he was young and his grandfather raised him--he's dead now, too. But, I think he'd already arranged to be buried with them all on their estate outside of Cardiff. I could call around for you, if you want." This is so morbid, Lex thought as he finished. How is it possible that I can calmly discuss burying a friend with a complete stranger?

"And the charges?"

"Against the girl?"

The doctor nodded.

Lex sighed heavily and looked toward the automatic glass doors that Jude had only moments ago disappeared through. She should be here, she should be doing this.

"If there is no one to press charges..." the doctor started.

Lex's eyes darted back to the doctor, who froze under his frigid and determined glare. "I will. Did the tests come back?"

Again the doctor nodded.

"She was...?"

"Intoxicated? Yes."

He hung his head again and sighed deeply. "How long can you..." he swallowed hard. "How long can you keep him here?"

The doctor placed a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. "We'll worry about that later."

Lex let his shoulders drop. He was exhausted.

"Would you like to see him?"

Lex nodded wearily.

The doctor led him down a corridor where he pushed open a pair of steel swinging doors. Rhys lie on a gurney in the middle of a sterile room bathed in harsh white lights. Lex walked up to his friend, noting how unreal everything felt. Rhys looked only as if he were asleep. The deep gash on his head and bruised cheek could have been merely war wounds from a particularly nasty game of rugby. But he knew it was all an illusion his heart was presenting him. He knew intellectually that his friend would never wake up, but he didn't want to believe it.

Taking a cold hand in his, the harsh reality could not be ignored. All make-believe was over--the world was cold and cruel and unforgiving. Even for good people like Rhys.

Lex looked into the sleeping face. "Goodnight, sweet Prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest."

***

The wind blew fiercely as the thunder cracked and lightning lit the sky in a white-purple glow for only moments at a time. She couldn't guess how long she'd been wandering down every street her feet led her. The bells had tolled from nearby towers announcing the hour a couple of times, but Jude had paid them no mind.

Exhaustion was the least from her mind as her feet simply continued to carry her in an aimless path around town. Once, she'd found herself on a street, staring across at the Commons, where, in only a few short minutes, she'd lost everything she'd ever held dear.

Her body was numb. If it weren't, she was sure she could produce tears enough to drown herself in. But crying was not something that came naturally to her. When she fell as a child, tears and sobs brought no aid to her, only harsh rebukes from Mrs. Bertram. And by the time she'd run away, she'd realized the value of hiding what she felt. Emotion was weakness that exposed a person to pain.

Why had she not held more firmly to that maxim? She could have saved herself all of this. But it was too late to change anything, and regret didn't fix things.

She passed a storefront with the lights still blazing inside. Stepping through the door, she realized why this establishment remained open so late into the night. It was a liquor store.

Staring at the long lines of bottles on the shelves, she quickly grabbed a clear one filled with equally clear liquid. If she couldn't drown in tears, she'd drown in Absolut.

The bottle produced a satisfying thunk as it hit the wood of the counter. "And a pack of cigarettes." Rough patches always seemed a bit more bearable with tobacco and a million other poisons in her system.

Her head felt heavy and she let it bow a little as she fished a few notes from her pocket. "Rough night?" An old, balding man with a huge barrel chest and a leather biker vest pulled tightly across it grunted at her.

Without picking up her head, her eyes darted up to meet his. Her cold stare was enough to silence him. "Keep the change," she spat as she threw the notes onto the counter and grabbed the bottle and cigs and made for the door.

She wasn't very far down the street, when large drops began to fall from the heavens. "Oh, perfect," she muttered through a cigarette perched between her lips. It was raining--and she'd forgotten to pick up a lighter or matches. It had been years since she'd quit smoking. When had she even started? It must have been a little after the start of fifth year, she mused, but her fuzzy head kept any thoughts from hanging around too long. Thank God for vodka.

She snapped her fingers and the cigarette began to glow softly in the darkness. A pinpoint of orange in a sea of black and indigo. The blue smoke rose as the rain fell down. A quarter of the bottle already gone, but the pain held on. She was no lightweight when it came to drinking--she'd even beat Rhys at a drinking game involving coins and an empty paper cup and little to no rules. What was her advantage then was her vice now. She wanted to slip over the edge of oblivion soon, but with every drink, the pain only grew more acute. A little more. A little more and she'd be gone, she hoped.

Half a bottle and the thoughts only grew more intense. Pain and sadness was only changed into rage with every drink, instead of sputtering and dying under the alcohol as it should. The rain would not abate. It beat down on her shoulders and the pavement. The bitter taste of vodka had long ago lost its sting, but the relentless raindrops were still punishing enough.

Only a few drinks left. The taste had gone from smooth to...nothing at all. A whole bottle and not a thought lost. The pain still clung to her, wrenching the heart she'd been trained to ignore. Looking up as the rain continued to fall in ruthless sheets all around her, she noticed that she had stopped beneath the shadow of a hulking stone structure. The lines of the arches, the masonry of the spire. This was a cathedral. A house of God.

Trembling from head to foot, she continued to stare at the building. Erected to house a relic, as were all cathedrals, with the purpose of drawing in pilgrims, these structures were the original tourist attraction. She wracked her brain to think of what this particular cathedral housed, but she couldn't even think of the name of the building. She wasn't even sure she knew where she was anymore.

Relics. A piece of a deceased saint imbued with healing powers. People supposedly journeyed for hundreds of miles to a place like this with hopes of being healed. She doubted her shattered world could easily be repaired by touching a finger bone that was rumored to make miracles happen. Nothing could bring Rhys back.

A sound of something shattering close to her broke her stare. Glancing down at her feet, she noticed that a glass bottle lay in crystalline shards on the sidewalk. The bottle must have slipped from her wet fingers. Oh, well. There were only a few drops left anyway. She lit another cigarette. Only one more left.

The door was open leading into the grand building. The warm glow of thousands of lighted candles beckoned her towards it. Jude refused to move, to give into the urge to seek sanctuary from the driving rain. The gothic arches of the doors and windows pointed to heaven, prompting all beholders' thoughts to do the same.

The tip of the cigarette glowed bright orange as she took another long drag and blew the smoke skyward--the only offering she would give. "Boy, you have everyone fooled don't you?" she said icily. "The biggest scam ever--'all things happen for a reason' and 'it is God's will'--you have one for everything. But the truth is you are just as vengeful as the next sinner, maybe even worse." She threw the smoldering remains of her cigarette onto the sidewalk and marched up to the stone steps. She wasn't going to let the arches and carvings intimidate her any longer. No one would push her around anymore, not Fate, not God, or whatever else one chose to call it. It was all the same lie to her.