Chapter 11

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You'll see who the guy in the picure is as you read...

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It’s been two days… two days of dis-familiar thoughts and feelings. I am starting to feel like a different person, like I’m dying and being reborn by the dirtily clean action of Obsidian’s mouth. A mouth with gracefully heavy words and intentions, sharp animalistic teeth, a body that seemed to take a part of me, no that did take a part of me… I can feel it, something’s gone, ‘it’s’ gone.    

He changed me, when he took my blood something happened because everything I think of now links back to him, even to the smallest of importance.

I have no idea as to why my mind is being corrupted from the inside, everything is being iced over and then heated up leaving me in this thawing contradiction, but all I know is that it’s a strong emotion I’m starting to feel but what that emotion is I don’t know.

I want to be near him, I want to service him by giving him all I have and it is killing me. Does he know it hurts, will he watch as my insides distorts as a reaction to his existence? Will he watch as I drown from my own self, as I swallow the blue flames he spits out?

 These hot and cold but still black and white feelings I have, how do I get rid of them, why didn’t he tell me how to soothe the burn he gave? The look he gave me so different that night, I’m starving for it like that first bite of a foreign food.

You’re so unsure of it but the taste… that bittersweet taste you accept it because nothing’s ever perfect, it’s like that but imagine not being able to take a second bite, that second bite that you use as confirmation as to you liking it…

Why do I feel like I now need him but don’t want him because of that need… the torturing thought of needing someone you shouldn’t like salt to an unknowing baby wound but then pleasing it by giving it candy.

The uncomforting comfort only making you want to take action... You always want what you’re running from, it’s always been that way and always will.

I’ve been scared to go outside for the past two days in fear that, that thing will reappear or more of it. That ugly realer than life thing, it exists, things like those actually live, and I can’t get rid of this anxiety that replaced the little bravery I possessed.

There’s nothing to say, nothing do about it, nothing to feel, there is just nothingness as my sole condolence, this emptiness rains pity on my soul. Angry, afraid, sorry to and for myself I feel defeated… the lost battle from within shuts itself in on me, the results only cause misery all caused by his eyes, they haunt me when I sleep… they taunt me when I am awake.

Please just fade away… when I count to ten just allow this whole reality to become a fictional dream which I will forget through time, Damien the little boy with the electric eyes, that night…the beasty being, but most of all the beautiful creature who saved my life but then took it away in a matter of minutes… please forget those scorching arctic blue eyes with their unrealistic hue, those words of silky thorns.

 Fail to remember, disregard, let it trickle into an oblivion, his lips, his touch, and his bite…one…two…three…four…five…six…if I just believe hard enough…seven…eight…nine…

‘Beep,’ ‘beep’ ‘beep’ ‘beep’

I jump out of my thoughts and see my phone; I forgot I even had one for these past couple of days. I read Mekhi and for the first time in my life his name seemed to be the longest thing I ever read in my entire life.

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