DollMaker

Trust Me, Trust No One- Chapter 8

There's nothing left.

Max ruffled his scruffy hair, the water dripping down his bare shoulder. He finally decided to go outside. Part of him hoped that Hero was still out here, and that they would take a walk.

The other part doubted she would care.

He could feel each raindrop kiss his skin sweetly. He cherished the rain; it was an important symbol of sorrow to him. He found it stupid, but it still held on to him. Max's covered his face with his hands. He didn't know why, but he wasn't going to let go.

Let go of something that never existed.

Max never cried, and he was most certainly not going to breakdown now. His eyes were worn down and the scars that ran across his chest were even clearer than before. It seemed that the past becomes much clearer in the future.

Future.

Did he even have one?

Max shook his head, running away from these doubtful thoughts. Uncertainty was an unnecessary feeling that irked him.

Max pushed the door and inched closer inside. "I hope I don't wake anyone.", he stammered.

The room was pitch black, with noises that killed Max in his sleep. Max stretched his long fingers to try and feel something there. There was nothing.

Nothing.

Max's emotions went wild and his grin became to wide to contain. He had the strange sensation as if he was falling. The wind breezing through his hair. He could the embrace of nothing as he closed his eyes. The rush he got from it was amazingly strong.

A tiny wick of a flame crawled across the room over to him. "You're awake?", a harmonious voice whispered. Max crashed back into reality. "Yes, Master Owen."

"How come you're wet? Weren't you asleep in your room?"

"I was asleep, but I was curious to see if Hero was outside."

"She's sound asleep in her room, there's no need to worry for her."

"Oh.", Max said slipping his somewhat of a shirt back on. "I'll wait 'til morning comes."

Owen smiled lightly in the dark and took Max to his room. Owen still worried for Hero and Max. They were so fragile, and they needed the undivided attention. Then again, Hero refuses to believe in Owen. Max loves his attention but he was slowly losing himself.

Everything that Owen had ever been taught was put into one phrase, "Trust is the beauty of the rock you stand on."

Up until now, Owen never understood the saying. Trust and beauty were two completely different things. However, when put together were the simple combination called Owen Quinn Dark.

His mother would tell him that every time he'd speak condescendingly to himself. It amused him to hear his mother call him beautiful.

Beauty.

Beauty, he'd never let go of it. Beauty defined Owen's way of being, and everything he did. Beauty was such a pleasure to his senses.

Owen fell asleep slowly, his arms wrapped tightly around his invisible company.