Bzzz.
My hand automatically swings to my pocket and my eyes to the front of the room. Is the teacher looking? No? Good.
The screen flickers to life. I glance down just as the text appears on my phone screen.
Yeah, 6pm works for me. I’d like the chance to shower and whatnot after class.
The monotone voice drones on about the importance of studying for the potential pop quiz that may or may not be next Monday. Another student raises their hand and the teacher turns his back towards me. I seize the moment and quickly type out a response.
You know, it’s just a stupid movie project. You to tally don’t have to watch it with me. I don’t want to scar you for life. Supposedly, The Witch is really intense.
*totally
The typo dents my ego a little. Get a hold of yourself, Jasmine. God, why do I get so nervous talking to him? Almost three months of actual dating and I was still worried he didn’t really like me. Even though he insists that we should be open with each other, I have a nagging feeling that he’d dump me if I say or ask the wrong thing.
The clock on the wall insists on ticking persistently and I find myself unable to resist counting the seconds until he responds.
1...2...3...4...5...
I shouldn’t be so unsure of myself. He wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t really want to be around. Watching a movie together was his idea in the first place. Stop being paranoid.
I take a deep breath. In and out. I force myself to listen to the words that painstakingly slide out of my instructor’s mouth.
“...however, I will not be printing your homework for the next three…”
...22...23...24...25...26...
“...equations will be included on the cheat sheet that — should you print it out — is allowed with you on the midterm, final, and any pop quiz that we might have. It’s a small price to pay considering….”
...48...49...
Bzzz.
...50.
Bzzz.
My phone is in my hand before I bother checking for teacher’s glare.
Well, honestly, I don’t know anything about American Literature from colonial times, but it’s intriguing and I haven’t seen you in a week.
I’ll order a pizza so we can snack while we analyze. Pepperoni and mushroom sound good? ;)
A sigh escapes my lips and the girl to my right gives me a strange look before passing me the stack of worksheets that are circling the classroom. As I take one, I glance at the teacher. He is oblivious to the fact that everyone is already packing up and continues to march on with his lecture, though technically his time ended two minutes ago.
“...get that done, and you’ll be in fine shape for Monday. See you all then.”
I pack my bag slowly and wait for the others in my row to pass behind me before I pull out my chair which restricts the pathway to the door.
The walk home is a long one tonight. The sun begins to redden and dip behind the tops of the tallest pines. The maple, birch, and ash trees have begun their dramatic descent into hibernation before winter, each having a strong blush of oranges, yellows, and reds. The wind picks up and a shiver runs through my spine. Rain was forecasted for tonight, which is why Harper suggested we stay in rather than go out to the poetry reading as originally planned. The rain didn’t bother me, but I wasn’t in the mood for arguing. The poetry slam was every Friday night; there would be another one.
As I’m walking, I consider my options. What do I say to someone who has given me such happiness? How do I explain what I am feeling? It seems almost impossible that any other person could understand my train of thought at this point and the last thing I want to do is make him feel like it’s his fault. He is very much not part of the problem, but he could be considered the trigger that made it apparent to me that there was a problem. Harper always had a knack for simultaneously calming me and kick-starting my brain. I felt like he was a precious discovery inside a locked treasure chest and I was the sunken ship that trapped him, keeping him hidden away from the world.
The wind surges around me again, running right through my knitted sweater and forcing me to shiver again. I can’t help being cold sometimes, even though I deeply enjoy autumn. It’s almost as if the world creates a cold front only when I walk out the front door or open a window. I gaze around at the forest that I walk through to get home every day and I find myself thinking about the way people used to live. The first English colonies to settle here had literally nothing left from their journey and almost nothing to capture or gather when they arrived in that winter. They were completely isolated with each other and their innermost thoughts — and I knew first-hand how scary that could be. They may have screwed the Native Americans, but they were brave in a way. They believed in their faith so much that they decided to risk their everything for happiness and peace. I doubt I’d ever have that much faith or trust in anything. It takes a special person to do that.
Bzzz.
I retrieve my phone from the depths of my pocket to see that I’ve received a text.
Emmett: “Hey u in class rn? I wanna call.”
I hadn’t talked to Emmett in a while and I figured if anyone could take my mind off things, she could.
“You can call me whenever you want.”
Bzzz. Bz. Bz. Bzzz. Bz. Bz. Bzzz
I cautiously swipe at my phone screen to answer. “Emmy?” I ask.
Kshh kirkshhhhh.
“Emmett!”
“...Jasmine?”
“Yes?”
“Ha-ha! Sorry, I hit the button and didn’t expect you to answer so soon. What's up?” She casually replies.
“Well, I just left the campus and I'm walking home. What about you?”
“Dude same! I’ve got great timing. You had math, right? It has to be better my Econ class.”
“I doubt it. What’s wrong with Econ? Don't tell me you're switching majors again.”
“No. Really, it’s just the terrible teacher. ‘Class, now don't forget that you've got to carry your numbers, even in these college-level classes. Your answer might come out differently!’ No! Like, seriously?” Emmett’s eye roll was audible from the next state over.
“Wow, a teacher being condescending. That's new.” I retort.
“Shut up, I'm exaggerating! But it's bad.”
“Yeah, my math class isn't exactly a slice of pie either.”
“Mm mm, love me some pie.”
I chuckle. “But besides that, classes are good?”
“Of course, they aren’t. This is harder than I’ve ever worked in my life.”
I pause, waiting for her. “...but?” I cautiously inquire.
She sighs. “But it’s finally feeling like I can actually become a veterinarian. Like, the academic support lady built a map-plan-thing of the classes I need to take and it’s going to be a rough six years, but it’s like I finally have direction.”
“You know, I felt the same way my first year. It’s something about seeing all the steps written out on paper that makes you really feel that it’s achievable. I’m glad you feel better about the grand scheme of things. To be honest, I was a bit worried about you hating college. It isn’t for everyone and you struggled with high school so much, but I’m glad to hear that you’re being challenged.”
“That is a huge understatement.”
“Maybe, but I’ll stop nagging you.”
“Thank God! I was about to say you sound like Mom” I could hear the smirk on her face.
“Anyway, what did you call about?”
“Just to talk, man. About life in Flag. How's Harper?”
Dammit. “He's doing great. Still talking about last weekend, but it’s funny ‘cause we were all obviously really stressed about all of it and he wanted to go to forget about the stress of his classes. For a “laid-back state” California life is insane. But that trip was probably the most spontaneous thing he’s done for a long time, save the midnight run for fries and shakes a few weeks back. It was his first concert; did I tell you that?” The thought brings Harper’s face to mind and I start grinning like an idiot. She’d punch me right now if she could see me.
“Nah, but that’s great. It was awesome. Like, actually awesome.”
“Yeah it was! Easily my favorite so far.”
“Where is he, by the way?”
“Harper? He’s at his apartment. We’re going to meet up later to watch a movie for class.”
“Nice, nice. Dang, never thought I’d actually miss the guy. He’s hilarious.
I smile a little harder. “Yeah, he really is.”
“How are you guys doing, by the way?”
“Well, I can’t speak for him, but I think pretty good. We work together pretty well and our personalities are similar enough to where we aren’t fighting all the time. My only complaint is that I don’t see him as much now that we’re both in school. We hang out at least once a week and talk everyday so it’s not all bad. I know he’s busy.”
“Yeah, he is.” There is a slight sigh before she continues. “Kind of weird that it took you so long to figure out that you guys were into each other.”
She hadn’t mentioned that before. “What do you mean?” I asked.
“Like, all that time, and you guys never did anything about it.”
I force myself to take the calm path. “Well, we both had some rough emotional patches then and we just worked better as friends. I never expected it to go any further, but when he asked I found myself wanting to try it out.”
“He likes you more than you like him, huh?”
“What? No.”
“Uh, yeah. He’s obviously into you, but you seem distant. I mean, I think that you guys are cute and stuff but it just seems kinda one-sided. I mean, you guys weren’t here long, but I picked up that vibe.”
“That's not completely true.”
“Well, from what I've seen, yeah.”
“Hey man, we were only there two nights-”
“Look, just hear me out, alright? Like, when you lost the tickets, you got stressed out and kept it to yourself until the last second and it made things way worse. When stuff like that happens, you tend to try and control everything and no one can help if you’re going to be like that. Harper’s your boyfriend - you’ve got to trust him. He doesn’t want you to trust fall, just talk to him about stuff. ‘Cause right now he just goes along with it and that isn't what you need. You need a punch in the face to snap you out of it.”
Her pause indicates to me that she just realized how that sounds.
“Well, not really, but you know what I mean. It doesn't help that he's really passive and non-confrontational. If you don’t break the habit, you’ll just end up pushing him away. It's like you aren’t willing to compromise with him and it's not fair ‘cause he’s a really nice guy. Now, I know that you guys literally drove all night to get here and you were exhausted and Mom was freaking out on you for getting here so late and the money thing and the school thing and whatever, but that doesn't mean it's okay to give you a pass on being b****y and secretive. Again, it's just my opinion but I think you should talk to him about it. I don't know, I would.”
“You've got a point. I was exhausted.”
“Okay man, real talk. I only brought this up ‘cause I want you to be happy. Harper is a nice guy but if you can’t trust him, it’d be better to break it off now than to let it drag out and end in really bad stuff later.”
“Fine, you’re right about the trust thing.” That was hard for me to say. And since we were already discussing it.... “But I was already planning on having a discussion with Harper later tonight about it all. As much as I hate to admit it, I think you’ve got a point.”
“Well, yeah. I have the unfortunate privilege of being your sister and knowing you for my entire life. Harper has only known you for a split second compared to me.”
“Seven years isn't a split second to anyone, dude.”
“Yeah well, what I'm saying is, you guys don't work as well as you might think. I mean, you guys are adorable, but the trust thing is gunna be a problem later.”
“Yeah, you're probably right.” I say, with a sigh.
“Which is wh-”
Suddenly an angry shrill voice pierced through the phone. “Emmett! Who are you talking to?”
“Ugh. It’s Mom again. Literally, I just talked to her. Sorry man, gotta go.”
Beep beep beep.
The line goes dead and I pause my walking for a second and sigh.
Should I tell him?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I plop down on the leather sofa with a large slice of pepperoni pizza, post-mushroom removal. As I pick a warm, crisp pepperoni off a slice, I look over towards the kitchen where Harper is digging around in the cabinets for red pepper flakes. With the soft acoustic music playlist from my phone, the whole scene is the most peaceful thing that I had experienced in a week.
I smile, drinking in the moment. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad would it be if we just ate without the crushed red pepper? I’m starving.” Harper glances over at me and I quickly inhale the pepperoni and pout to make a point.
He makes a sympathetic face but then shakes his head. “Absolutely not. I know it’s around here somewhere and I will find it. What is pizza without parmesan cheese and red pepper bits? It’s a disgrace, that’s what it is.”
I smile at his persistence and, for a moment, I’m convinced that this could go on. Why would it be so bad to drag this out? He doesn’t seem to be hurting as I imagine him to be and the whole thing makes my heart swell but… it’s almost as if something isn’t quite right. The shadow falls over me again, the inner nagging voice telling me that he doesn’t want to hurt my feelings so he isn’t going to say anything until the damage is done.
I snap out of my thoughts and notice that Harper is staring at me. He gives me an odd look, both quizzical and analytical; he is trying to figure out what I’m thinking. I glance away from his gaze to put my full attention into pulling another pepperoni off my pizza and popping it into my mouth. I hear his footsteps approaching me. I look up to see him in front of me, eyes full of concern. He smiles and gives me an awkward hug that forces my neutral face into a light smile.
“What was that for?”
“You know why. Something’s bothering you.”
Damn. Always one step ahead of me.
“I’m prepared to talk about what’s bothering you when you are ready.”
It’s tempting to get it off my chest, but the night is still young and I hate seeing him upset. “Let’s just see what’s so great about this movie, alright?”
He pulls away, slightly disappointed, but sits down next to me, plate in hand, and hits play.
The first part of the movie drags on and on as it attempts to build tension. It’s easy to gather that it wants to be a horror film. Old timey colonial America, middle of the woods in the heart of autumn - I mean, come on. Harper compliments the camera angles and genuine feel of the on-site filming but, besides that, there isn’t much else going for the movie. I become slightly invested in the eldest daughter of the Puritan couple, Thomasin. She is thirteen and struggling with her self-doubt, pride, and snarkiness — not unlike myself — because she isn’t allowed to have those traits according to her parents’ Puritan beliefs. I hadn’t realized that Puritans believed so strongly in everyone being completely corrupt and that there was no guarantee that anyone is going to be able to get into heaven. I balked when Thomasin was first blamed at being the actual witch. It was just a childish accusation from a younger sibling, but circumstantial evidence adds up and eventually her parents buy into the idea. She is at odds with her family, her life hanging in the balance of who believes her and who doesn’t. She’s losing... They don’t trust her… Why don’t they…?
It is so desperately cold. The frigid air blows through my little farming village and even my heavy winter dress and petticoat cannot withstand it. A crowd of people is approaching from down the way. Their sounds are disoriented and angry so I turn and try sprinting away, yet somehow, they are in front of me again. They all break into a run and swarm me. Suddenly, I am struggling as their hands try to pull me apart in sheer anger. Their fingers are as winter’s most unforgiving wind on my limbs: cold, unforgiving and relentless. I fight them, kicking, clawing, screaming, but for every one I knock down or pushed away, two more push closer. I know that there is nothing I can do to win but I must try. Asher needs me.
The world begins to slide as one of them tackles me. I hit the ground with a thud, the air completely escaping my lungs as a lump of a man lands hard on top of me. When the darkness clears, I am lying on my stomach on the road, my arms being bound behind my back with rope. I can feel that my left arm is twisted at an angle that it shouldn’t be, and my left knee is in blinding sharp pain, but I no longer care. I knew that it was too late for me and it would not do to waste time trying to save a lost cause. The important thing was that they know not where he is. They shan’t know. I would rather die endlessly for all eternity.
With my hands and feet restrained and my mouth gagged, someone grips my shoulders and jerks me upward to stand on my own. My knee screams in anguish and I fall back to the ground, limp. Pairs of hands tear at my arms and drag me back to my feet, this time keeping a firm grip. Lazily, I have the thought that my knee is no longer able to function. I look down. There is a knife that has been driven through my knee in the frenzy of the crowd. It is gruesome, yet my only irritation is that it hinders me from standing tall in front of Them.
A small circle clears around me as the mob shifts. A man takes a step towards me. He is tall, thin, and has a grim face. There is a fire in His eyes that can only be hatred for the witch that they believe me to be. How dare I live as a human? How dare I exist in peace?
He addresses the crowd, but I can’t understand what He is saying. The language is garbled and incomprehensible. He talks with His hands, gesturing towards me with His fierce, explosive eyes. He points to the top of the hill, just outside of the town — the Gallows. The sweeping motions of His arms coupled with His words’ increase in volume implies the meaning behind them. The crowd begins to move.
My hands now have an additional rope tied to them, this one tied to the Man’s horse. He rides down the street and begins to ascend the steep hill. I can’t keep up with His pace on my bad knee and I end up being dragged along the path. My nose is broken after a few minutes, leaving a trail of blood after me. The mob’s murmuring grows into meager shouts then to guttural screams. The crowd smells my sin and will not cease until I pay for it. 
The tears that are streaming down my face are not attributed to my current physical state. Asher, my Asher. He’ll live, but for how long? He is my only regret, but, alas, the only thing that made living bearable.
The hangman’s rope has been strung and I lay in front of the stage, still tied to the horse, beaten, bleeding, and broken. In the distance, the rosy dawn breaks through the horizon line and the shadows of more people marching down the street come into view. With them, a strange looking shadow...
No. No, it can’t be.
I scream his name, but my gag makes it impossible for the words to be understood. He comes padding into view, leash held by the mob. The tears are renewed as I experience a pain that I didn’t know possible. I am writhing on the ground. Asher sits, like the good boy he is, and lays down. His sweet eyes meet mine and he sits up again, excitement present on his face. His golden coat gleams in the morning sun and his tail furiously wags behind him.
He doesn’t know what is going to happen. He doesn’t know that this always happens to the things that are forbidden, things that aren’t supposed to exist, things that make me happy. I can’t see him properly now — my eyes are too full of tears.
The Man walks over to me. He reaches down — cold hands suddenly gripping my throat — and growls. The noise is inhumane, deep and unholy. I try to stop myself from crying, but I have not the strength to resist the pure emotion pouring from my soul. He lifts me up by my neck. As I gasp for air, my tears cease. I realize I have nothing left in myself.
It’s over. He’s won.
He turns my head to face the Gallows where Asher is being guided up the stage. The hangman takes the leash.
NO! Wait!
I close my eyes, and, with my last breath, scream.
Suddenly I hear the God-awful sound-
“Jasmine! Jasmine, wake up!”
My eyes pop open and I am staring straight at Harper. I am crying and shivering violently. He wraps me in his arms, and, somehow, the pain lessens.
“Okay, we aren’t watching horror movies ever again, alright?”
I release a light chuckle through the tears. Of course, it could only be Harper who could make me laugh at a time like this. My sobs increase and he pulls me closer. It takes me a while before I can get the words out.
“Harper, promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“Promise me that you aren’t faking this. That this relationship is something that you think actually has a chance of working out. Why- how could you be with someone like me? I’m broken and annoying. I’ve hurt so many people in the past with my carelessness and selfishness. I can’t make up my mind half the time and you use so much patience with me, how do you stand it? I am not what you deserve. You could so do much better.”
He pulls back from me and looks me dead in the eyes.
There was a slight pause before the response.
“So?”
I balked - I wasn’t prepared for that answer. What I am supposed to say to that?
I decide to settle on something before the pause gets too long. “So, why don’t you?”
“You aren’t any worse than anyone else out there, and personally I feel lucky to have you. So, what if you’re ‘broken’? Everyone has gone through rough times in their life. It’s a part of finding out who you are and what your purpose is in life. I had to go through it a few years back, by myself. I’m not going to leave you because you aren’t “perfect”, but I’m also not going to stay to fix you. I’ll help you through it and support you because I believe in you, because you deserve the opportunity of growth, and well frankly because I want to see that growth in you.”
Suddenly, I can breathe again. I nod. Okay, deep breaths. Just tell him.
“Harper, I was going to break up with you tonight.”
He blinks.
“Why?”
I can’t meet his eyes. “I feel like I’m smothering you, holding you back. You don’t need that in your life.”
“You don’t get to tell me what I need.”
Tears brim my eyes again and I look down at my hands, beginning to pick at my nails. He gently lifts my chin so that my eyes meet his.
“I don’t want you to experience this alone. We’re doing this together, alright?”
I nod again, and he smiles.
Suddenly, it dawned on me exactly what Harper meant by being open with each other. I hadn’t really been happy the last few months because a relationship couldn’t possibly be healthy with harbored feelings like mine. Why did I keep these feelings? If he was willing to listen, and if it would relieve the stress, I didn’t have anything to lose by expressing them. Even if I lost our relationship, why would I want to go back? That’s not living, not really.
It was in that moment that I was absolutely certain he was being honest with me. He kisses my forehead. “Tell me about the dream.”
So, I did.