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Black Lily Petals

Max Jolene



 

  Black Lily Petals

  By

  Max Jolene

  Text copyright 2016 by Max Jolene

  All rights reserved. Expert as permitted under the U.S Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission of the author.

  There is no paperback version of this book as of 2016.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Black Lily Petals: a novel / Max Jolene

  Summary: A young timid actress suspects her new love has a devious plan to murder her. After countless visits to the hospital and hallucinations she is convinced that she is the one causing these new problems. She is conflicted with her own mental demons as she tries to figure out his intentions. Is he trying to hurt her or is her anxiety problems to blame?

  Contents

  1. The White Lily

  2. Anxious

  3. Trouble

  4. Cry Baby

  5. Timid

  6. Guilty

  7. Eighteen

  8. Infidelity

  9. Liars

  10. Durling

  11. Schizophrenia

  12. Courage

  13. Sedation

  14. Redemption

  15. Abused

  16. Redo

  17. Acid

  18. Glitter

  19. Truce

  20. The Black Lily

  Prologue

  ***

  We looked identical but she was covered in blood.

  My mother had tears in her eyes and she said, “this is the fifth time, doctor.”

  She would not look me in the eyes nor hold my hands.

  “I'm so fragile.”

  But, I was not.

  “I hurt her.

  I heard the voices tell me so.”

  I loved my sister.

  I think my mom holds a grudge being stuck with me.

  I just cannot remember.

  I couldn't remember putting the knife to her skin.

  ***

  Chapter 1 | The White Lily

  “Ah!”

  The scream of my mother startled me awake from my repetitious dream. She screamed again and I put my hands over my ears.

  She had the same tantrum over one-hundred times a week. The rage inside me began to build up as her screams grew louder and echoed off the walls.

  I searched my pocket for my Tylenol and swallowed it without water. With my hands still over my ears, I began to hum to block out her screams for attention.

  My eyes closed and I pretended to sleep as I heard her loud feet skipping down the stairs. She walked over to me and threw her handbag onto my lap. I jumped up and grabbed her by her frail shoulders.

  “What is it now?” I screamed. “You’re driving me insane!”

  With the little power I had, I shoved her back. I watched her tall slender frame collapse to the floor. She would enjoy that I had said slender instead of curvy. She thanked her past modeling career for the figure she had.

  She twirled her bony fingers through her loose brown hair that flowed with perfection down her back. She searched the room, and her demonic brown eyes made eye contact with me. She had eyes so immense no one held eye contact with her for long. However, I did—I always did.

  “Lily, I’m going to call the police on you,” she whispered as she tried to stand to her feet. “You hit me!”

  “I did not hit you!”

  “Yes you did,” she cried and rubbed her red cheeks. “You hurt me; just like you hurt your sister!”

  “I wish I could just leave you.”

  She rubbed her cold hands over my cheek. “Oh, Lily, you’re stuck with me forever. Every time you try to leave me—you always come back!”

  I shoved her back again, “I’m leaving you soon.”

  “But you have to take care of me.”

  I could not believe a bat like her, thought I would help a mother as evil as she. The presence of her made me regurgitate. Everyday we argued over nonsense and I was becoming psychically ill.

  Things had gotten beyond words with her. When I was thirteen, her anger had the best of her. All I remembered was a big punch in the face and falling down our fancy stairs. My sister said the reason our mother got red carpet on our stairs was so my blood could blend in if it ever happened again. Maybe she was right, because it happened a year later. That time I ended up in the emergency room. Word was I fell down the stairs from being clumsy.

  She did not even deserve the title mother. She had never been anywhere close to a mother. Her name was Kathy; a name which stayed with her until the hearse was outside her door.

  “Fine then!” Kathy jumped to her feet and dusted off her evening gown. She ran back up the stairs and waited for me to start some drama. Ha, as if I had not been through that. Puh-lease. She had done much better than that.

  At my sixteenth-birthday party, I was doing this television special for MTV—cameras were everywhere! Kathy was so jealous of me that night. One: because I was the one getting the attention she ached for and two: because it was my party. It wasn’t my fault she was a washed up model. So, later that night when we were about to cut the cake, Kathy stood next to me. I read her face—she was up to no good. She was ready to make a scene. She stood there while smiling from ear to ear as I began to cut my cake.

  “Oops!” She slipped and spilled red wine all over my birthday dress in front of everyone.

  She laughed. They laughed. The whole world laughed at me. Ha, but that fiasco was not the last thing. Then, she said something immature. “Oh baby, you looked like a pregnant cow in that dress anyway; I did you a favor.” Then, she walked away and acted as if nothing had happened. The next thing I knew, she was in a room giving an interview of the whole event to earn some nippy cash. That night I packed all my bags and left her. Unfortunately, I couldn't survive in the outside world without her and I came back home in tears. She sheltered me in ways that were wrong, but I liked to believe she did it for my sanity. I needed her and somehow she favored it.

  I came back to reality and walked into the kitchen. “Paul!” I shouted for my personal assistant, who was two feet away from me. “Kathy is at it again! I swear I’m going to end up killing her.”

  “Okay, I’ll get her pills,” he said in a low but hearing voice. He headed toward the stainless steel refrigerator to get her pills. She was on medication for the “not too sane” for ten years and she still did not know it. She thought the medications were for my sister, Leslie, because she had some issues of her own. However, she moved out when we were sixteen and we hadn't seen her since. I guess Kathy thought Paul was mailing her the medication.

  “So, what drink should I slip the pills into this time?” Paul said while trying to make eye contact with me.

  Paul looked as if he just left an audition to be on either Sesame Street or a dance show. He had gulps of sweat sliding down his forehead, which made the zits on his skin vivid. I had no idea for what reason he was sweating because it was only forty degrees. He had a big furry sweater on that any sane person would think he was dressed as Elmo. His cheetah print jeans put a smile on my face; it reminded me of when my sister and I bought them for him two years ago.

  Unpredictable was his middle name and I loved him more than an assistant. I loved him so much that he had ten million in his name from me. He had been one of my best friends since I was five years old, so he knew Kathy before she went insane.

  “Put them in wine. Kathy loves her wine!” I leaned across the island reaching for the pack of cigarettes and the newspaper. I pulled one cigarett
e out and stuck it in my mouth. I did not light it; I just let it sit there on the edge of my tongue—kind of chewing it. “They still haven’t found the Marlon hit-n-run guy yet?” I sighed, happy that I was not on the entertainment page in the newspaper.

  “What makes you think it’s a guy?” Paul said.

  “Well, I’m just saying.”

  The Marlon hit-n-run case had been all over the media for the past few months. Marlon was a new child actor who had a future ahead of him. However, his life ended short when some idiot crashed into him and left him to die. If his story wasn’t making headlines, I was.

  Paul snatched the newspaper, changing the subject. “Hey no cigarettes, Lily, remember,” he fussed while stirring the pills in the wine. “Give them!” While trying to snatch the cigarettes from me, he nearly spilled all the wine on the island.

  “I know!” I said. “It’s not even lit.” I rolled my eyes and spun my chair like how I would do when I was six.

  “Hmm…well…” he gave me a stiff look as if he were going to slap me. His serious faces always made me want to laugh. He knew it too—but, I held in my laugh.

  “Oh go on; you know you want to,” he grinned. “I’ll keep the seriousness for other people I work with.”

  “You do that,” I laughed and thought about something else to discuss. “You didn’t tell me how your two months of art camp went.”

  “It’s not art camp…that sounds so amateur.”

  “You seem awfully happy these days…I assume it went well.”

  “It did.”

  “Are you gonna give me details?”

  “Little did I know that the entire time was dedicated to Andy Warhol. So, I had too…”

  I blanked out as Paul blabbered about stuff I could care less about. I did not care much about his art stories; I was just hoping he would not leave me without an assistant for another two months. I was flabbergasted when he just up and left me one day for art camp. He did not give me a reason and he knew it was unprofessional to do something like that. I didn’t care how close we were; my work came first.

  “So, did you meet someone special?” I said, coming back to reality.

  Paul smiled like a little girl who just met her match. “Maybe.”

  “You did? Who…”

  “Let’s just say, we are still in touch.”

  “So, I’ll meet this special person soon?”

  “Sooner than later.”

  I winked and clapped my hands for him. “Why do you look all sweaty and red?” I put the cigarette into a napkin—it begun to taste rotten.

  He touched his face. “Aw my face is red?”

  “No, your shirt; you look like an overgrown Elmo.” I laughed and spun around in my chair again; this time almost falling onto the tile floor.

  “Dammit, Lily, stop it!” Kathy came downstairs into the kitchen with her hand on her head—over exaggerating a headache. “I swear you get on my nerves! I can’t—”

  Paul cut her off by putting the glass of wine in her face. The scent of the engaging red wine calmed her down and if you had x-ray vision you could see the ecstasy swim through her veins. There was a moment of silence when she took her first sip. I smiled at Paul for achieving another Kathy moment. She took the cup and slurped it down in one swallow.

  “The both of you should leave!” She pushed me off the chair as if she were telling a dog to get off the sofa. “And remember Paul, about today? You didn’t forget did you?”

  “Uh yeah,” Paul said as he glanced at me. “I remembered.”

  “Remember what?” I said.

  “Oh nothing, Lily,” Kathy smiled. “Now, leave! All you guys do is sit here and talk! You said you want to leave me? Then, learn how to live in the outside world! People don't bite...well, unless they're on bath salts!” She picked up a cigarette and stuck it in her mouth. She did not light it; she let it hang there like a tooth pick.

  I must have gotten that from her.