All the shades of Purple

01. Amethyst Dream

The room was bathed in shades of purple, a sanctuary of calm amidst a storm of memories. Asher Greene tossed and turned in his bed, the familiar nightmare gripping him once more. His dreams pulled him back to that fateful night, the night that changed everything.

They were hiding under the bed, twin hearts pounding in unison. Asher clutched his brother Jayden's hand, trying to keep him calm. Their identical faces were marked by the same fear, a mirror image of each other's terror. Their mother's screams echoed through the small, grimy apartment, a haunting symphony of terror. Arsenio's men had found her, the money she stole a death sentence.

The door to their room burst open. Arsenio himself loomed in the doorway, his shadow stretching across the floor. He was a large man, imposing, with a face hardened by years of cruelty. He dragged their mother into the room, throwing her to the ground.

"You thought you could steal from me?" His voice was a growl, dripping with malice.

The boys watched in horror as Arsenio pulled out a gun. The sound of the gunshot was deafening, and their mother's body crumpled lifelessly to the floor. Jayden stifled a scream, but Asher held him tighter, willing him to stay silent.

Arsenio's cold eyes scanned the room until they locked onto the bed. He crouched down, peering underneath.

"Well, well. What do we have here?" He smiled, a terrifying smile. "Come out, boys."

With trembling limbs, Asher pushed Jayden behind him and crawled out from under the bed. He stood up, facing Arsenio with as much courage as a seven-year-old could muster.

"Take me," Asher said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Leave my brother alone."

Arsenio's smile widened. "Brave little soldier, aren't you? Fine, you'll do."

He grabbed Asher roughly, dragging him away. Jayden cried out, reaching for his brother, but another of Arsenio's men held him back. Asher's last sight of his twin was Jayden's tear-streaked face, the bond between them shattered in an instant.

Asher woke with a start, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. He sat up in bed, the soft purple hues of his room a stark contrast to the horrors of his dream. He wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced around, grounding himself in the present.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, stretching out the tension from his muscles. His room was a haven, decorated in various shades of purple that soothed his troubled mind. Posters of vintage rock bands adorned the walls, and his sketchbook lay open on his desk, filled with intricate drawings of flowers and portraits.

Asher got dressed, slipping into his usual attire of baggy pants, metalhead boots, and a black hoodie. He pulled the hood up, adjusting the face mask that covered the scar marring his otherwise delicate features. He glanced in the mirror, his pale blue eyes staring back at him, a reminder of the past he could never escape.

He grabbed his purple backpack and slipped out of his room, avoiding breakfast. Samantha Greene, his adoptive mother, was already at work, leaving the house quiet and still. He stepped outside, lighting a cigarette as he walked to his car, a classic black 1967 Chevy Impala. It was a sleek beast of a machine, its polished exterior a stark contrast to the turmoil within him.

He turned on the radio, letting the familiar strains of Led Zeppelin's "Stairway to Heaven" fill the car. The haunting melody matched his mood, the lyrics resonating with the echoes of his nightmare. As he drove to school, the music drowned out the remnants of his dream, if only for a moment.

The school was a four-level building with a brick facade, surrounded by a vast, green front yard where students gathered before classes. Asher parked his car and stepped out, ignoring the stares that followed him. His reputation as a freak preceded him, and he preferred it that way.

He walked across the yard, his eyes scanning the familiar faces of students who either feared or despised him. He made his way to his locker, intending to grab his books for his first lesson, History. As he approached, he noticed a boy struggling to pick up a scattered pile of books on the floor.

The boy had delicate features, coal-black hair tipped with blue, and a shy demeanor. Asher's heart skipped a beat. He felt a strange sense of familiarity, a connection he couldn't explain. Against his usual instincts, he bent down to help.

"Thanks," the boy mumbled, his voice soft.

Asher looked up, and their eyes met. The shock of recognition hit him like a punch to the gut. The boy's face was a mirror of his own, save for the scar and piercings. Jayden. It had to be.

Panic surged through him, and he dropped the books, backing away. Without a word, he turned and ran, his mind racing. He burst into the nearest restroom and splashed cold water on his face, trying to calm his tumultuous thoughts.

Could it really be him? After all these years? The possibility both thrilled and terrified him.

The bell rang, signaling the start of the first class. Asher took a deep breath and made his way to History. He slipped into his seat, his mind still reeling. When the teacher, Mr. Thompson, entered, he barely registered the introduction until he heard a familiar name.

"We have a new student today. Jayden Lovegood."

Asher's heart pounded as Jayden walked into the classroom, looking nervous. He took a seat a few rows away from Asher, unaware of the storm brewing within his twin.

Asher's thoughts raced. He had to know for sure. He had to find a way to confirm if this boy was really his brother. His mind flashed back to their shared past, the bond they once had. Could it be rekindled after all these years?

Determined, Asher resolved to uncover the truth. He watched Jayden from a distance, memories and emotions swirling within him. One way or another, he would find out if this was truly his long-lost brother.