Twisted Perfection

♛ two ♛

Chapter 2|Victim Or Victor

Something about me that you should know: I can be mean as fuck, sweet as candy, cold as ice, evil as hell or loyal like a soldier. It all depends on you.

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Memories are timeless treasures of the heart. They are a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are and the things you never want to lose.

They are the only thing that remains the same, even when the feelings fade, the places change and everyone walks away.

Sometimes they are your most beautiful dreams. But sometimes your best dreams are your worst nightmares.

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I let out a breathy sigh, still shaking from my outburst.

'I will always be here for you.' Her soft brown eyes searched my stormy blue ones. 'Don't forget that.'

'How can I believe that? After everything that's happened. How can I trust you won't leave?'

'Because I said so. Because I promise.' Her hand desperately sought out mine. 'You can trust me. We're best friends. We can always trust one another. A promise won't be broken. Can't be broken. Do you trust me?'

I stared at our hands and squeezed softly. 'Forever and always..'

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And sometimes, memories are like bullets. Some whiz by and only spook you. But others tear you apart and leave you in pieces.

When something bad happens, you have three choices. You can either let it define you, let it destroy you or you can let it strengthen you.

Every test of strength in our life makes us bitter or better. Every problem comes to break us or make us. The choice is ours whether we become Victim or Victor.

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'God. You are just hopeless. It's pathetic.'

She looked at me and rolled her eyes.

'It was probably a good thing in the end. Now she no longer has to suffer because of your ignorance.'

I couldn't breathe. I fell to my knees, tears forming in my blue grey eyes. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't be real. My hands lay helplessly by my sides.

'Oh grow up. Stop being childish. You're weak. Naive. Stupid. You are nothing..'

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So what do you do when those memories—those dark thoughts—still follow you? Do you succumb to the torture or do you take part in the internal war? Do you fight for control?

Can you fight for control?

Those memories continue to remind me of my foolishness and gullibility. Of the unbearable pain and suffering. Of the desolation and despair.