You know what, I was wrong about Lewis. He is an Asshole after all. One word-pity. I freaking hate pity.
The people you trust can either break you, hurt you, or define you. Then there are those who are Grenades.
I knew that Lewis was a grenade, but yet I thought all grenades had faults, but Lewis, he had no faults. He was a grenade that was going to explode and obliterate me. A complete grenade- an explosion- a broken porcelain doll.
I was the porcelain doll, fragile, and ready to break when she fell. And that explosion made me break while I fell.
I was in a short trance, ignoring the faults, wondering along, until I stepped on the grenade. Lewis-well, he broke me, more than he ever has. Made me feel more pain than I've ever felt. But I guess that's the thing about pain, it demands to be felt. And I will always have that pain, always.
Lewis-
Don't tell me things out of pity, tell me things out of reality.
YOU ARE READING
The Pocket Boy
Short StoryMy life story and how one boy scarred me forever, and how loosing friends didn't define me. Three Pocket Boys, two past, one present.