The Saviors of Maria

Prologue (revised)

"Prologue"

Addiction can be fatal, as many know. It's starts by giving you the illusion of grandeur, an invincibility that you don't have. It soon consumes you like a wildfire and takes its toll on not only your physical self but also your soul. It can make you feel happy one day and then cruelly punish you for it the next. The cycle continues on until the addiction finally takes your life painfully and prematurely.

Take a look at Eugene Bosworth, for instance. Called Buzz by his large horde friends, he often turns to the society-approved toxin known as alcohol for "stress relief" and had first tasted ethanol at the age of fourteen, despite the fact that the legal age in every state in "the land of the free" is twenty-one. He enjoyed it immensely and drank five bottles of whiskey one Sunday afternoon when he was eighteen, and in his haze, he decided it was a perfectly good idea to take a drive.

Meanwhile, Peter Brennan, called Pup by his small friend group consisting of Arthur Kirby and Violet Monroe, has started to get ready to go to a church meeting for Confirmation. He had gelled his fiery red hair into a small bouffant, and he delicately applied mascara to his light-colored lashes that framed his dark brown eyes that look as if they have no pupils. He had an addiction once, but he had broken that cycle many years ago. He is as sober as any other man, so sober he has never taken a sip of the addictive poison in his life.

Buzz was driving along the road, his friends smoking marijuana in the backseat, covering the scent of it by drinking an excessive amount of alcohol. The volume on the radio was deafening as they all laughed with each other for no logical reason. The cars around them blare their horns at the rowdy drunkards.

Meanwhile, Pup entered the kitchen and poured his coffee from the brewer. He added his usual amount of milk and sugar and gulped it all down without taking a breath. His adopted mother, Sharon, was staring down at her newspaper when he entered but glanced up for merely a second before she found something to complain about.

"Are you really going in that?" She nagged. "Don't you remember last time you wore makeup to small group? Your teacher emailed me about reparative therapy."

"She was the only one that cared, Ma." Pup sighed. "Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself."

Sharon sighed, leaning back in the dining room chair.

"I may not have given birth to you, but I am your mother." She says sternly. "You remember what happened to Arthur's uncle."

"I'm not Arthur's uncle! I'm fine!" Pup protested. "Speaking of, I need to pick him up."

"Can't he drive himself?" Sharon asked him.

"Trust me, you do not want Arthur behind the wheel of a car." He exclaimed, horrified.

He slammed the door behind him as he exited the kitchen. Sharon sighed to herself and continued reading the newspaper. Buzz and his friends are still very much alive, barely scraping trees along the road. Pup started his car and backed out of the driveway, still unaware of the gang.

Pup pulled up in front of Arthur's house, a place with many memories, both euphoric and melancholy. He could almost hear the laughter of their younger selves running around the yard chasing each other in a time before the mess and complications of puberty took its toll on their minds and hearts. He temporarily dismissed all those memories as he blared the car horn in a syncopated rhythm to signal his arrival.

Arthur exited immediately, knocking on the door frame twice before closing the front door behind him. His lithe frame was hidden under a large hoodie and jeans. The bright sun casted shadows on his dark features, revealing red streaks in his coffee brown locks as well as the sharpness of his jaw and cheekbones. Arthur and Pup were both seniors, and the inquisitive young scholar was still dressed like an eighth grader. Pup chuckled under his breath as he rushed toward the car using an odd combination of a skip and a run.

"Are you serious, Arthur?" Pup exclaimed, raising his eyebrows.

"What?" Arthur responded, dazed.

"Couldn't you wear something more appropriate than a hoodie and jeans?" Pup suggested. "What happened to those slacks you wore to one of my recitals?"

"Those slacks are evil." He replied with a grunt. "They torture me."

"Pain is beauty." Pup sing-songed, a coy grin on his face.

Arthur grunts in response as he struggles with the seatbelt. Arthur tugged and tugged at the belt without success. Pup temporarily unbuckles his to assist him. He calmly buckles his best friend's seatbelt without strain or difficulty.

"Thank you." He mumbles to him.

"What would you do without me?" Pup asked playfully as he backed out onto the road.

"Without you, I would already have my doctorate." Arthur replied truthfully.

"I'm well aware." Pup said with a gulp, brow furrowed.

Meanwhile, just a handful of blocks away, the boys were still up and kicking, causing mild havoc. The worst was yet to come.

"You should put your seatbelt on." Arthur reminded Pup before he was too far up the street.

"Oh, yeah, of course." Pup exclaimed, buckling his seatbelt.

"Well, now, what would you do without me?"

Pup stopped at the stop sign ahead, taking a deep breath. He eyed young Arthur from his peripheral vision, noticing his antsy demeanor. Arthur scratched at his thighs, rocking back and forth in the seat. He knew Arthur well enough to know that when he has something on his mind, he gets the jitters.

"Pup?" Arthur stuttered, something he also does when he has something important to say.

"Yeah, Arthur?" Pup cued, his thoughts wandering where he thought would never be likely in reality.

"In my experiments, I have gathered some...interesting data." Arthur stammered. "It is now official; I am not like everyone else."

"Of course you're not." Pup responds, chuckling under his breath. "Everyone is unique, you know."

"Yes, but, sometimes, one is too different, and it causes scandal." Arthur counters as his voice cracked, tapping his feet on the floor. "You should know that by now."

"What do you mean, Arthur?" Pup asks innocently.

Buzz has turned onto the street perpendicular to the two friends. He had reached around a hundred miles an hour at that moment.

"I had thought what I had was a strength, but it comes with its own weakness without the advantage of societal approval that the alternative has." Arthur tried to explain.

Pup couldn't quite grasp the meaning behind his words, but he knew they were important.

"Some results of the experiments were rather peculiar, especially the data in which you were a variable, an important one at that." He continued, his vocal rhythm uneven.

Pup couldn't speak as he trembled, his breath staggered. He looked at Arthur, shock present in his eyes. The very next moment, Buzz and his friends turned and crashed into Pup's car. His heart raced as the car rolled into the ditch. Glass scattered around him chaotically. It all moved too fast for Pup to properly make out Arthur's condition. Arthur's silence was a heavy weight on that fast-paced moment in time.

"Arthur!" He yelled before the car stopped rolling. "If you die, I'll kill you!"

The car landed front first into the ditch as Pup lost all feeling in his legs. He heard sirens in the distance as his vision faded.