His Mask

Chapter Two

The steps were even but dragged as they barely lifted off of the stained concrete pavement.

Everyone around was rushing or stopping to talk. Some were simply bopping their heads to music, maybe even dancing a little.

However the steps dragged and the lips curved into the smile covering what was eating him alive, he said his goodbyes as he'd learned to continue doing, as if it were the best day in the world.

He turned the block that led to a rainbow worth of colors.

Number two fifty seven being red, was appropriately paired with old Ms. Telly.

The next being a burnt orange was Mr. Willows' and his fiancé.

The pale yellow after the orange belonged to a family of five with two on the way, the Perez family.

After them, the pink home was owned by Donny and Maxwell, or as they were better known, Max and Don.

The only house that had ever been owned by the same family throughout the years was at the end. It was a four story lavender home with white shutters and a black door.

At the end of the observation the feet's owner had stopped at a doorway and knocked.

"Yes Nicholas, you can come in."

"Thanks."

"You know this is absolutely insane, this voice, this person I am, it irks me more than the others."

"Yes Dime, I know, you've been telling me since my first day of high school."

"Well if you would hurry and find her I could stop having to change, I could finally be myself and you," He pointed the sword at Nicholas and then went back to sharpening it, "you can stop relocating, finally." The previous voice slipping in and mixing with the one currently narrating Dime. The current being nurturing and sweet, the old being stern, harsh even, was an awkward mix.

"I'm sorry, it's kind of hard to figure out where she is, if you would help me th-"

Dime dropped the knife, not quite angry, but the heart that beated, the heart that had lived a million years, dropped. Nick regretted telling him, he had heard this a million times before. In every language he had to learn, in every type of slang he knew, he had told him. "No, Nicholas, you know I can't even point her out to you, the consequences were made clear, years ago. Many years ago."

They both fished through their memories, how they had gotten into this, how their only way out was her, was his love.

"It's just, I feel nothing!" He said making eye contact, "I have loved her for so long, and yet, I'm empty!" He threw up his arms, frustrated, angry, longing, "I wouldn't even wish this upon the witch that had cursed us. It's too much for one to bear. Entirely too much." Dime began to process what he'd said, Nick went on a tangent somewhere that no one else could voice their opinions.

His hope was fading more and more with each year, decade, and century that passed. The horrible part was she always suffered a worse fate. He could feel it. He could feel the anger, the rage that sometimes radiated off her skin. When she was in danger, when she feared was even worse. He wished he could always simply appear and save her. It brought him to do horrid things. Things that if he simply had one lifetime he would fear the consequences. But he didn't, those years were especially hard for him. She'd endured more hurt than the whole world will ever know, he simply could feel what she had felt toward horrible things, her negativity, brought on by her world, hurt him as well. When there was nothing, he knew she was happy, but in place of nothing quickly came loneliness, this was the worst of all, he knew she was out there, she was totally and utterly alone.