Baylee Rose & Dillon Masen

“Baylee! Where are you at?! This isn't funny!!" Dillon shouted in fits of maniacal laughter, chasing after me, searching vehemently. Our English Bulldog, Elijah, barked loudly, making me clamp my hand over his slobbery, pink jaw, a giggle escaping my plump lips. “Ooo, I heard that, luv, you're in trouble now!!" Dillon yelled. I cursed, standing from my spot in our cramped, walk in cupboard, grabbing randomly at our large supply of totally unnecessary condiments. I snapped open the caps, aiming them at the cupboard door. It creaked open slowly and I began squirting. The smell of mayonnaise and syrup invaded my nostrils as I squeezed the contents of the bottles onto a sopping wet Dillon. “Ew! Stop it, Baylee!!" He protested, jumping out of the way. He lunged forward, snatching the bottles from my hands and hugged me close to his stinky figure. “Mmm, I love you soooo much!!" He chuckled deeply in my ear. I squealed and pushed him away. “Stop it! You're gonna mess my favorite shirt up!" Dillon continued to laugh at me. “That's what you get for soaking me! And attacking me with syrup and mayonnaise!" I bit his not condiment covered ear and he yelped girlishly, hopping back. I scooted up the stairs and locked myself in our clean room. I began searching for a new shirt, reminiscing to our first date, we've been dating for a year now. A smile came to my face as I saw his side of the closet, a total disaster. My clothes were all color coordinated and perfectly hung. We were polar opposites. And perfect together. I slid on a baby blue blouse, complete with ruffles and all. Then the house began to shake viciously. We lived in L.A., we were used to earthquakes, but this was extreme. I stumbled to the door, listening to Dillon beat on it hard, yelling my name. “Baylee! Open the door, luv!" I fumbled with the lock and jerked it open. He yanked me under the frame as the house continued shaking. He held me protective as always, even in our smallest of shakes. “Are you okay?" He panted in my ear. I nodded, clutching him closer. I heard Elijah whimper and pushed Dillon back, taking off in Elijah's direction. I knew it was stupid, but that dog was family to me, I'd let him get hurt just as quickly as I would let Dillon get hurt. I heard Dillon dashing madly behind me as I reached Elijah. He was stuck between one of my bookcases and the floor, blood seeping from his mouth. He was dead. Cold, not moving, my poor baby. I stood shakily, sobbing silently, searching for Dillon. And I found him. Oh my God. No. He was lying on the floor, blood oozing from his cracked skull. My hand shot to my mouth, just as the shaking ceased, as if the earthquake was happy now that she'd taken everything I loved dearly from me. My hands shook violently as I dialed 911. I was barely able to whisper what happened to the operator. I gathered Dillon in my arms, applying pressure to the wound, just like I learned in medical school. All of the other information evaded my jumbled mind as I held him in my arms. “D-Dillon. Talk to me. P-please." I mumbled over and over. His eyes opened, he was on the brink of death. “Baylee. U-under m-my f-fav...orite tux. Check." His voice was so low. Less than 15 minutes ago he was so much better. Alive. Breathing. Laughing. “Please, don't d-die!!" I screamed, rocking him back and forth. I'm not sure how much longer until the front door slammed open loudly, startling me. The paramedics filed in. They dragged Dillon's nearly lifeless form across the hardwood floors, leaving me absolutely distraught at the sight. Dillon was my life, my everything. I snapped out of my inner turmoil and slipped on the nearest shoes. Then I heard the ambulance leave. I jumped up, fully intending to chase it down the road when I remembered Dillon's words. I slowly moved to the closet, searching for his favorite suit, the one he was going to wear to dinner tomorrow night with the family. I patted the suit until I felt a lump in the fabric, I tugged at the pocket when a box dropped into my hands. A ring box. He was going to propose!! If you wouldn't have killed him, a snide voice in my head snapped. Those words were my breaking. I killed Dillon. I didn't deserve to live. Bile rose in my closed throat, making me gag. I bent over, spilling the contents of my stomach onto the floor, tears slipping down my face as I simultaneously threw up and sobbed. Once my stomach was empty I dialed Danielle, Dillon's sister and my best friend's, phone number. “Hello?" She sang into the phone, her voice cheerful, as always. “It's Dillon. I think... I killed him." I could barely get the words out before the waterworks started again. “Baylee, Baylee, where is Dillon? Are you alone? I'm on my way to your house now. This is your home phone, right?" I didn't respond, I just curled up on our bed, stroking the pillow Dillon slept on. It had Elijah's fur on it, too.
FLASHBACK
(That morning)
I stretched my hands over my head, yawning loudly. My tiny fists collided with a big, fluffy figure. I rolled my eyes, realizing it was Elijah, propped up underneath Dillon's neck. “Did you decide to sleep with Daddy night? Hm?" I patted his soft fur, watching a lazy smile cross his muzzle. He made a noise of what sounded like approval. I snickered at my boys; Dillon being the funniest though. Dillon had his head nudged underneath Elijah's, cuddling with the dog. He wore a childish look on his face as he slept, his stubble just there, just like I preferred, his messy, brown, shoulder-length hair spread around in a crazy disarray. “Oh, Sleeping Beauty, wake up." I whispered, my fingertips dragging through his hair. He barely stirred. I huffed in aggravation, mockingly. I planted a light kiss to his cheek. “I'm hungry. I don't wanna burn the house down again." I teased as he groaned. “Baylee?"
“Yes, handsome?"
“Go to sleep." I giggled, peppering his face with kisses. He wrapped his arms around me, drawing me closer to him, so my head was on his chest. Then he tickled me. I squealed, demanding he release me, but he was relentless, soon Elijah joined in, double teaming me.

PRESENT

“Baylee, come on. We're at the hospital now." Hm? Danielle? When did she get here? How did I get in the car? I didn't ask, I just followed. I was lifeless. Just like Dillon. I felt someone take my hand, leading me who knows where. I didn't fight, there wasn't any point in it. A door opened and my unseeing eyes opened. Dillon, laying there, his body still. My breath caught in my throat, making breathing a chore. Danielle gripped my arm tightly and we cried with one another. My Dillon. Dead. I pushed the bile back down, besides there was nothing left. My feet moved without permission, dragging me to his side. I clutched his cold hand in my own, the tears slipping down my cheeks in silence. I knew what had to be done. We couldn't be separated. “ I need a ride home." I told Danielle, my voice monotone, lacking anything, but the pain that swallowed me whole. She tossed me the keys. I didn't even move to catch them. The nurse, who I had been oblivious to, passed them to me, a tender smile on her face. Or was it sympathy? I didn't care. I only wanted my escape. “I'll get Frank to come and get me." She murmured through her tears. Frank was her husband. And Dillon's best friend. Danielle wouldn't be alone. I would be happy. And all of my problems would vanish. I drove myself home, not caring about the danger that could cause. Once home I went to Elijah, stroking his blood matted fur. Usually, blood was revolting to me, but today, it just didn't seem to bother me. “I'm going to see you and Daddy soon, boy. Tell him I love him. Hm, I wonder if you can talk in the afterlife." I mused, standing to my feet. I suppose I would find out soon. Walking slowly to the closet, I slipped the ring onto my finger smiling a small, melancholy smile. Pretty scarves lined the door and I selectively chose the one Dillon liked the best on me. I dressed in my grandest ball gown, grooming myself to perfection. Mr hair hung in ringlets around me, a shiny clip holding my hair out of my face. My make up resembled that of a model- only the best for my Dillon. Then as I stood on my bathtub ledge, the scarf secured tight around my neck, I bent my knees, soon the aching hole in my chest would be gone. And with that final thought...
I jumped.