Death's Letter

What happens when a soul is split between 3 people instead of two? A cursed triangle of torment and misery is what the universe has in store for Victoria, Xander, and Niall. Will Xander take his medication and get help? or will he continue to influence Victoria with self harm?

When Niall is presented with a letter he believes he has met his soul mate, though he has already met one of them before. . . .will they end up happy or will the universe work its magic and cause people their lives?

-this story is also on wattpad


3. Some jello and Law and Order marathons

Author's note: HELLO :) we meet again . . . so will we find out what happened to Victoria? and what about Xander? I mean that was SOME pretty bad stuff . . . .anyway I would very much appreciate it if you leave me comments telling me if you like what im posting. THANK YOU. I hope you like this chapter! . . .


I tried to pick myself up. I look down at myself to assess the damage that had been done. My clothes were filthy and had some tears. Did I dare look underneath? I slowly peeled my shirt away from my stomach; it hurt so much to move. I was covered with bruises. My skin was several different shades of black, blue and yellow. I looked and I felt horrible. I brought my hands up to my face. It felt scaly and rough. My face was covered with my dried blood. I started to fully stand up but the pain was so much at first that it made my head spin. Eventually the pain subsided into a numb feeling. With my body like jello, I started my long trek home. I don’t even think it was walking it was mostly severe limping.



I was so tired. Maybe I could just take a nap right here on the side of the road. The asphalt looked oh so comfy. I finally gave in and let my body collapse onto the cool concrete. I could definitely lay here and sleep awhile. It didn’t take long for me to be in a dreamless standstill.



Sirens. I can hear them but I can’t make my eyes open. I try to bring my hands to my face to see what’s the matter but I can’t, my body won’t respond. What’s wrong with me?


“Don’t worry the ambulance is almost here!” I hear a voice, panicked.


Why did someone need an ambulance? What happened? I was fine; it was just a beating by Xander, I was used to it. I WAS fine, right? Oh whatever. I just want to fall back asleep. Maybe forever, yeah that sounds nice. I give in to my body’s desires and the world fades out once again.



The next time I was somewhat coherent I heard a voice talking. No, VOICES. Some of them speaking with panic others were screaming.

“She’s hemorrhaging internally. She needs a blood transfusion, STAT!”

“Several of her ribs are broken at crucial angles that will most likely puncture her organs if they haven’t already.”  

“We need to get her to the ICU now!”


Then I stopped hearing them. All of the voices, the sound of rapid shuffling feet, the hum and beep of different equipment, gone. All of it just stopped.



A bright light appeared, it shown at such intensity that I could feel myself begin to burn up. My skin felt like it was tingling with warmth. I had to look away in fear I would literally burn up from looking at it. However I couldn’t, I felt compelled to keep looking, to just watch. It was absolutely dazzling and magnificent.


Does anyone really know what the gates of heaven actually look like? Or even the gates of hell for that matter? People would say that they look very different. After all that’s how they are always depicted, so that’s how we think they actually appear to us in reality. The gates of hell would be surrounded by hot flames, hot steam making you sweat like crazy. The smell of deceit, betrayal, and pure evil would be lingering everywhere and making its way into your nostrils. And heaven would be sitting on the fluffiest of clouds, clouds that would be the purest of whites. Angels with the loveliest of wings and most beautiful of features would all have their place next to God. Everyone and everything as we know it to be would be wrong. In fact they are both really quite similar, exactly the same. When you see the light it means heaven, right? Light equals good, does it not? Well maybe it doesn’t . . .



“You have to help her!”


“Ma’am we are doing everything we can, she didn’t respond to the dosage of adrenaline we gave her.”



“Then give her more, you have to save her!”


“We’re trying ma’am.”


“Doctor the defibrillator is on and we are ready to start.”


“Thank you nurse” he paused “this is our last resort; if this doesn’t work we will have to accept the fact that she might be gone. Now if you excuse me I have to go and try to save your daughter.”


My heart had stopped for 10 minutes. The doctors said that I was deprived of oxygen long enough for there to be some sort of damage. It was quite unusual they said. There was no damage, they had several different doctors come and run tests over and over and still there was no damage to my brain whatsoever. There was basically a 0% chance that I would live without any permanent damage. I had come back from the dead. I had DIED. Everyone gets a miracle, but just one. I had thought that I already used mine when I found Niall.



Xander’s POV:


I roused and rolled myself out of bed. I sit on the edge trying to convince my brain it was time to wake up for the day. I rest my hands on my thighs feeling the cotton material of my boxers. I noticed that my knuckles were slightly scabbed over. There were some scrapes and cuts, I quickly dismissed this however and stood up.


I walked out of my room and into the kitchen. I took a glass out of the cupboard and opened the fridge to receive some orange juice. After pouring myself a glass I went to the medicine drawer. Whenever I opened it I was always welcomed with a multitude of prescriptions. I took out my most recent and tapped the container releasing several small white pills into my palm. I tossed them into my mouth and took a swig of the juice.



I hated doing this every morning. Why couldn't I be normal? Maybe she would have loved me back if I was. But instead I'm a monstrosity who hides behind drugs.



 I haven't seen her in awhile though I've always tried to call. She never picked up. That was expected after what I did to her.




I was at home, alone. My mother was at work and my dad is never around, he left us when I was 7. I tried to call Victoria a few minutes ago but she didn't answer. Maybe she was busy or something, I brushed it off, surely I wasn't the only one she hung out with.


I decided to pop in a DVD and make some popcorn. Normally I would be writing songs and playing chord after chord but I had a massive writers block at the moment and couldn't locate my guitar. It was a strange thing for me, having writers block. On any other day I could write song after song, though sometimes they sucked, and whenever I needed help I would shoot Victoria a message. She could help me get out of any writing funk. That's why I had called her but she failed to pick up the phone, again.


I plopped myself down on the couch with my bowl of popcorn and started to watch Paranormal Activity. I could rarely watch these kinds of things with Victoria, they scared her shitless. I tried telling her that it was just Hollywood and that it wasn't real, she just glared at me while sticking out her little, pink tongue.

I barely got 5 minutes into the movie when my head started to hurt like crazy. I could hear my blood pulsing and throbbing in my ears. I put my head between my knees in hopes it would stop the severe migraine. A white searing pain engulfed my mind as it shut down for a moment. I immediately knew what was coming my way next, what did I do this time?


Gruesome memories flooded into my mind. I watched them with horror. I saw my guitar as I smashed it to smithereens. I saw how I turned to face Victoria and shoved her causing her to topple off of the hood of the car. I saw how I swung what was left of my beloved 6 string at her causing her to bleed and start to run. I saw the fear in her eyes and how she knew I had failed her. She begged me to take my medicine no matter what, I swore on my grave and I disappointed her. . . Again.


Soon the pain subsided and I could open my eyes again. I felt so low. I always felt miserable after I had a revelation of my actions when I didn't take my damn meds. It were times like these that made me want to end it all, it would save her from being hurt by me again and again, over and over.



I walked into the bathroom in hopes of taking a hot shower. I stepped onto the fury mat that decorated the floor and looked up into the mirror. I was startled with what littered my face. I looked at the long scratches down my cheeks and put my hands up slowly. I touched my face carefully. I was afraid that this was some sort of horror flick where what I was seeing wasn't real. I rubbed my thumb over the scratch and was presented with some pain. These were recent but the fact that they were scabbed proved that it wasn't as recent as I thought.


I no longer had the appetite for a shower; I trudged into my bedroom and sat on the bed once more. I was really confused, what happened to me?


I carefully got back up and pulled open the top drawer and pulled out a t-shirt, jeans and a beanie. I pulled the clothes on over my body, giving me a new layer. I just finished adjusting the beanie on my head when I heard a rushed knock on the front door. I quickly sprint for the door and yelled an assuring 'I'm coming!' To the person on the other side. I put my hand on the knob and opened the door. I smiled at my guests who I couldn't see due to the bright morning sun. Soon my eyes adapted and I found myself face to face with a police officer.


Police officer’s POV:


I had just been sent out by my captain with an arrest warrant because there was nobody else available to do the job. Honestly doing this sort of thing didn’t even phase me anymore, its gets to a point where there are so many people in cuffs that all of the faces start to blend together. I’m not affected by how much crime there is, with the things I have to witness everyday nothing in this world surprises me.


This time was a little different and I was somewhat shocked with the information I was given. From what I had found out about the situation was that a teenage girl was recovered from the side of the road. According to the report and hospital record, it wasn’t a standard hit and run. Somebody had intentionally beaten this girl to a pulp for what seemed to be no reason and left her there to die.

I could relate to what her parents were going through, I had a little girl of my own at home.


Inside my skull thoughts fought with each other constantly, this job wasn’t as easy as it looked, thoughts of right and wrong, thoughts of justice and immorality, all of them trying to gain some sort of dominance. In the back of my mind I kept thinking about the kind of person who could do such a thing to another being. These were familiar thoughts that filled my head, I was no stranger to them and they were no stranger to me.


I saw the report and I saw the pictures of the girl, they made me sick. Her face was covered with dried blood and was swollen at such intensity that it looked alien. The rest of her body was plastered with bruises, the dark splotches littering her delicate skin. I cannot even fathom the amount of pain the girl had and was still experiencing. What kind of person would do that?


Only some kind of sick bastard could do that to a woman. Of course with my current profession I would have to ban these thoughts, I have to put thoughts like these on the backburner. Everyone is innocent until proven guilty, at least that’s the law. At times it can be such complete bullshit.


I pulled onto the road, carefully listening to the voice of the GPS. The street was empty, much like a ghost town. I didn’t see a single soul though it seemed like a relatively nice neighborhood. I could have sworn I saw a tumbleweed, though I doubt it considering the climate we reside in. It was probably just my imagination getting the best of me, sometimes it has a mind of its own. Right now I was imagining the sick being I would be cuffing in a matter of minutes.

The GPS’s voice rang out in the silent car, momentarily startling me as it signaled my arrival at the programmed destination. I quickly composed myself and reached my hand over to flick it off as I pulled into the driveway. It looked like nobody was home, just my luck.



I got out of my car and slammed the door shut. As I walked up to the door I began to feel a little “off”, something wasn’t quite right. I pushed these thoughts away and I pounded my fist on the door in hopes of somebody being home. Just before I put my fist on the wooden barrier again I hear a voice from inside along with the faint thuds of feet. I looked down and noticed the doorknob begin to turn and I started to prepare myself for what was to come and who was to appear in front of me.

A moment later the door was creaked open causing my eyes to flicker upwards once more. I found myself looking at a teenage boy wearing a free hugs t-shirt. He was smiling and I found myself a little guilty for what I was about to do.



Days had begun to pass. I was bombarded with reporters for the local news stations asking me what had happened, I refused to talk, refused to tell them anything. The only way they had found out who my attacker had been was by using the blood and skin cells I had under my fingernails from when I had tried to fight back. From what I could understand I was the top story on every local news channel. The story was about how a teenage boy beat up a defenseless girl. They made him look like an absolute monster. He was going on trial and there was a possibility of jail time. He didn’t deserve that . . .



Xander’s POV:


The police officer looked me up and down and then took ahold of my forearm. His grip was tight as he yanked it behind my back and swiftly took ahold of my other wrist. I could feel cool metal digging into my skin. He had cuffed me.


"What's this about?" I asked genuinely confused.


Completely ignoring my question he continued by informing me of my rights.


"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against -" I cut him off and finished his statement.

"-will be held against me in a court of law. I have the right to an attorney. If I cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for me." He looked at me with a quizzical look and then decided to speak up as he shoved me into the backseat of the police car.


"Been through this before I take it."


I shook my head in response. I only knew the Miranda rights for two reasons. Number one: Victoria makes me watch Law and Order-SVU marathons with her. Number two: everyone should know them.


I looked up and into the rear view mirror meeting the police officers gaze. He was an older gentleman, roughly in his fifties and looked like a nice guy. I pondered this for a moment wondering if I could get in trouble, not that I already wasn't, for talking to him. I decided to take my chances, what did I have to lose?


"Excuse me, but can I ask why I'm being arrested?"


Before answering the man looked at me through the mirror. His stare was hard at first but then softened as he saw that I was completely oblivious to the reason of my being taken into custody. He looked as though he was about to answer me but quickly stopped himself and shook his head causing his salt and pepper hair to ruffle.


It was worth a try.



Later after we arrived at the courthouse I was escorted to a cell and was to remain there until told otherwise, not that I could leave due to the fact it was locked. I sat down on the hard wooden bench that was against the far back wall. I leaned my head back in the concrete bricks and closed my eyes. I had no idea what was going on. It was probably some mix up, a mistaken identity of sorts. That kind of thing happened all the time, right?


A moment later I was disturbed from my thoughts by the jingling of keys and the screech of metal scraping against metal. A tall, broad shouldered man walked in and threw something at me , spun on his heel shutting and locking the door behind him, leaving without a word.


 I took the material in my hands and inspected what I was given by the silent man. I held a gray pair of scrubs. There was also a plastic bag. I sat there with the goodies in my hands wondering what I was supposed to do with them. They didn't REALLY think that just because I knew my rights meant that I knew the drill, that I could do this kind of thing in my sleep?

 I heard some footsteps, they got louder and louder as they approached the cell. The pounding of the shoes ceased abruptly and I looked up to see what had caused this. I saw a man in a suit and tie, he seemed rather annoyed to be here. He looked at me and said "You're supposed to put your street clothes in the bag and put the scrubs on. For you being here often you sure put up a good act. You seem like you have no idea what you're doing."

"I don't" I said bluntly with no emotion, unable to process what was happening. My statement surprised him and his face showed how confounded  he really was.


"Really? Well they made it sound like you've done this thing before, multiple times for that matter."


"Yeah only because I knew my Miranda Rights. I watch Law and Order with my friend, hence why I know them, not because I 'know the drill'." I said trying to explain myself to this man. I paused a moment "Are you my lawyer?"

"Yes, now get changed. We have to be at your hearing in 10 minutes." He said obviously trying to rush me. I decided not to push the man and hurry my ass up with stripping from my street clothes and putting on the bland scrubs. It was quite the task to do considering I was still wearing handcuffs. Eventually mister I-went-to-law-school decided to help with my freaking t-shirt.


Once we had finally gotten my shirt on, which concluded with us demanding of my being un-cuffed, we walked down a series of hallways. When I passed people they would either look at me as if I were trash or they would see right through me. I was a person just like them, why couldn't they see that? It was because I actually wasn't a person, I wasn't human, but a monster.




We were about 5 minutes into my hearing, trial, whatever it was. I would finally get to find out why I was arrested, and why I was here in the first place.


I was listening intently to what the judge began saying before I was interrupted with a shrill ringing in my ears. My blood pulsed and rushed to my brain causing me to scream out in pain. My headaches varied in degree of pain, and this one was by far the worst I had ever experienced. I clutched my head in my hands and screeched, I was in so much hurt that I couldn't even hear myself. Soon I felt myself being hauled off by two security guards. Finally the world went blank and I relaxed in their grip, hanging limply in their hands.



I tried to sit up but was forced to lay back down when my head started to spin. I opened my eyes and found myself blinded with light making me squint. There was still a faint ringing in my ears. My memories played over and over again before me, much like a cheap cartoon background. I was disgusted with myself, I deserved to die. It was now that I curled up into a ball, clutching my knees to my chest, and did something that I haven't done in awhile. I cried, I just let the tears stream down my cheeks, soaking the pillow my head was resting on. You can call me a pussy, but how could someone not completely breakdown after they saw what I kept seeing, a constant reminder of how dangerous I was to the people I loved.

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