LITERARY|Whitewashed Wishes

Whitewashed Wishes

(The Teal Ribbons Sequel)

by Jennica Lianne

“Hold on, and you can rest easy with me, Autumn.”

The teal ribbon seemed endless, extending further down the river, making it more than enough to help me pull myself back up to the surface. But I also caught a glimpse of something else.

Its color started to fade away before my eyes, turning into a dirty shade of white. Everything seemed so unreal, it’s probably the effect of endlessly running in such an inhumane state for so long.

That’s when I decided to grab hold of the lengthy object with all my might.

“That’s it, Autumn! I knew you could trust me—”

But life for my messiah and I turned dark in an instant.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Calling the case of People vs. Autumn Gomez.”

Oaths were sworn, all but figures of the law were seated, and seconds of silence surrounded the courtroom. I was quite thankful to have Maxwell Lauper, my trusted lawyer (whom I met through a family acquaintance) to represent me, again. Yes, this isn’t really my first time getting in trouble, especially if they’re all for the right reasons.

My young mind can never comprehend what lawyers squabble about, but I somehow came to my senses after about an hour. I was being cross-examined.

“Miss Gomez, can you say that you were acquainted with Demian Moniquer?” the district attorney began.

“He met me when I was still a civilized soul, that is, before I started running away from this world full of wretches like him.” I answered honestly. After all, no matter how I put it, the truth was the only thing I ever knew.

“How did you happen to run so far into the middle of nowhere?”

“Men have always been chasing me, it’s nothing new to me. It’s as if I’m the fairest of them all, but mind you, I’m no narcissistic fairytale queen. Hearing such things makes me sick.”

“What could possibly be the grudges that would compel you to murder him?” the questioning continued.

“Self-defense? I really don’t know what to say about this, as anything that would come out of my mouth would eventually be spun around to not go in my favor. ” I scoffed.

“But he tried to save you.” was what my interrogator said next.

“So he could eventually make me his little first lady once he inherits his dying mother’s estate.” I added to her sentence, rolling my eyes.

“You knew our mother was dying, and he needed you!” A different voice bellowed. It was Desmond, Demian’s older brother.

“You lot are rich enough to afford any caretaker, don’t waste your breath!” I laughed.

“I did not care at all whether I was handling a tycoon’s precious little heir or a tramp in tattered clothes—you exploit anyone for your own benefit like it’s your goddamned pastime!”

“I had dreams of my own, Desmond. I wanted to become a fine physician myself. However, I don’t remember taking up a job offer so ahead of time. You princes had all the time in the world, and yet your best solution was to gather women who suit your taste and make them take your mother in as their charity case? Don’t give me that crap! I’ll have you know that those ligature marks I gave him were nothing compared to the scars that I continue to live with, some that I’ve had even before I knew Demian!”

“He and your mother were merely stuck in a race to meet their demise—I just made it easier by letting him go first.”

I slowly rose from my seat with my hands in the air, wearing the most menacing grin on my face.

“Your Honor, the jury, and all who are with us today, let it be known that the youngest son of the prominent landowner, Madame Mirasol Moniquer, is just like any other man that I and any of you have met throughout our lives. They fabricate comfort, kindness, and amusement to the damaged, thinking that they are licensed to heal. So the moment I realized that such was the case, and that they reeked of the nasty scent of spoiled, self-centered children, that was when I acquired such a license to kill.”

“And any of you may give me an extra count of misandry as you please,” I smirked, “so long as it’s associated with fiends like them, I can even take that as a compliment.”

“Maxwell, dear,” I turned to my lawyer. “I thank you for all the work you have put out for me all these years. But if it’s to follow this scripted show, I’ll comply this time. I already improvised too ahead of time and killed the perpetrator, anyway.” I embraced my lifelong ally for the last time and gave him a peck on the cheek.

Such was the enactment of my guilty charge. And as I find myself behind bars, I still find some amusement in thinking that wherever their beloved Demian may be now, I hope he still sees that though he was whitewashed from the face of the earth…

...the autumn will eternally glow in the bloodiest, most beautiful shade of red.