Volume IX: The Art of Sauntering Vaguely

6. Forever Twenty-One

Her name was Dacien.

She was Linkon’s baby sister.

And one of the toughest girls on the street at the time.

What Linkon didn’t know...was that she was Colt’s girl also. She didn’t “get caught” by our side. She was always on our side. The really funny thing about this way was that none of the lines were clear; everything was blurry, slightly out of context. Just barely out of focus. That’s what made this war so dangerous. There were no clear-cut sides. No definite rules. The opposition’s ruler hid in the shadows. We were left to wonder. If there was anyone above Linkon, that is. It could’ve been a lie.

Anything could’ve been a lie. Nothing clear. Nothing real.

The only thing that I know to be true is this - I knew Linkon once, from another time, another place, another life. From the person that I used to be - a person that I no longer was. I had escaped from it a long time ago. I had escaped his piercing eyes, fingers that felt so soft but could hold on like a vice. I had walked out. Away. And I had come here. And every time I thought about him, I could feel a tear sneak down my cheek. No matter how hard I tried, how far I ran away...he would always be there. And I would always be his. There was no escaping it. I was his from the time I was orphaned onto the street. He was my master. My owner, my creator. I owed my existence to him.

And I was the pup that bit the hand that fed her.

And instead of taking the punches, I ran away. And I’ve been running ever since. Headlong...right back to the start.

Linkon Ransom and his sister, Dacien. He was older than me. I had never met her before the day they dragged her in. I heard about her. The free tiger. But I’d never seen her until just then. At that very moment. Linkon made me what I am. While his sister roamed free, I bore her chains. He needed control, and I was born into his waiting bonds. And it was from his caged realm of life that I broke out, that I learned what it is to run. And I came to define freedom. I lived where I could, how I had to. And nothing else mattered.    

It’s tattooed on my body somewhere. It’s up to you to figure out where. It says simply:

“Courtesy of Linkon Ransom. Upon death, send my compliments.”

He was the most handsome thing you’d ever see. The kind of badass guy that the young girls fall in love with. And he knew it. That’s how he got away with murder. He was like a father figure to me until I got older. When he decided I was better suited to serve him in other ways.

Mr. Linkon Ransom was my first kiss. The first guy I ever slept with. The first guy to leave bruises too dark and deep to cover. The first one to break bones or crack ribs.  The first guy to scar me forever. But he couldn’t keep me. In the end, he lost. Just like we all do.

I had good reason to hate him. I had a million good reasons. And the fact that even his sister was against him only drove my point home. It was just there. For all to see. He was a jerk. As compassionate as he tried to be, as sweet and innocent as he tries to portray himself, he’s acting for an invisible audience. Sure, maybe he cleaned up. But I’ll never erase the images from my mind. No. More than images - memories. Actual events. Things that happened. Things that he said. To me. About me. It’s all real. Very real. And I can’t escape it; no matter how many times I pack up my life, or how many places I take it. It’ll still be there, haunting me.

To be damned.

Either which way.

Every which way.

That’s just how the game was running these days. No rules. Everything that might’ve been real...wasn’t. That’s life. The lines are blurry. Nothing clear-cut. I don’t know. I was getting used to a world where nothing was clearly defined. That’s just how it was. I might’ve been raised in a realm where the rules were always changing. Maybe. I’m not entirely sure. I’m never entirely sure about anything. What’s the point in being positive? Humans are creatures of indecision, ideas created from thin air...and we survive. That’s life. The world keeps spinning. That’s just the way it goes.