Anchor- A Troyler Story.

-Prologue-

In 2004 on the 26th of December tragedy struck Southeast Asia.

   Troye could feel himself collapsing with the exhaustion, tiredness lapping at his senses like gentle waves rolling on a beach and washing away the sand. His eyes darted around like unsettled prey and he could feel his heart hurling itself at his chest like waves crashing against a cliff. The pain was searing through his leg but the pain in his heart was the only thing taking over his attention. His breath tore from his chest in a ragged staccato. He picked up the speed of his running.

 

Over 230,000 people died.

 

   Tyler felt another piteous breath tumble down the cracks in his lips. His eyes fluttered shut once again, the bright light glaring down at him in disapproval. He had kept them open for so long just in case he caught sight of him. Every time he saw brown curls his heart skipped in his chest but the disappointed poured through his veins every time. His mind was like burnt paper, black around the edges as he could only make out a few words in the middle. He had so much to fight for but he had a heart wrenching feeling that this was one fight he was going to lose.

Over half a million people were injured.

 

    Troye ignored the cries of people and blood curdling screams around him. The stale stench of false hope was in the air tinged with the smell of blood. He ran into several people but none even lived up to the pain he felt when he lost sight of his blond hair. He gripped the note in his hand tighter as he began to dodge furious people. He wanted so badly to fall to the ground and tear the note into thousands of tiny pieces but that note was the most precious things he owned at that moment. The sun was beginning to envelop him with a drenching sweat and he gritted his teeth as another jolt of pain speared him. He let out a whimper as he skidded round a corner.

141,000 people lost their homes.

 

   Tyler let his head fall to the side, his cheek crinkling the uncomfortable paper underneath him. He wished he could feel the crinkle of his own bedsheets again and the warmth radiating off the body next to him. Instead he looked at the bed a few inches away from him. The person on the bed seemed to be oblivious to his gaze as she yet again lifted up a crinkled note in her hand and read it, letting it drop to her side afterwards. Like the times she had done this before she let out a staggered breath as one tear dripped down her dirty cheeks. Tyler could only watch on in horror as her breathing went shallow and there was no one to help her.

Over 45,000 people were missing.

 

   Troye could feel his feet beginning to burn as he turned yet another corner, coming to a halt in the middle of a crowd. His eyes swiped this way and that as he searched for an indication, a sign, anything to show he could be here. Instead he was met with several bodies aligned on beds, some on floors as they cried for help. Troye could feel his breathing escalate as pure trepidation shot through him, more powerful than a bullet, tearing his skin. He had already lost them; he couldn't lose him as well. The sound of the news reporter's voice startled him as she announced a figure. He let out a choked sob and covered his face with his hands. With all his strength he let out a scream.

"Tyler!"

This is a story of a family. It is a story of tragedy, hopelessness and fear.

Tyler's eyes shot open.

But most of all it is a story about love.