Protection

The sun was an egg yolk, sliding down the sky at a sardonically meticulous rate. The heavens were a vibrant, citrus-like splash of oranges, reds, and pinks; and yet, there was nothing calm about the fiery canvas above. The orb of light was bleeding. Every drop of its life was squeezed out onto the horizon in a wild explosion of sunset. Clouds covered up the root source of all the light. The haze successfully hid the sun behind many obscure masks, veiling the truth and natural with an overcastting cover. The reds bled deeper through the blanket of clouds, the oranges grew more furious, and the pinks louder. A brilliant flame sparked up in the sky, causing all the light to dance with the other tints and shades in a rambunctious cacophony of screaming color. Perhaps it might've been a tranquil scene in the eyes of another; however, straight away, Elias's view was excluded.

He had always been different; the boy knew that. Then again, it would be reasonably difficult not to be on familiar terms with the solitary thing that causes you daily neglect. His name, in the interim, was Elias, but that was merely the half of him. Soon, the fragile, meek, submissive young man would be overthrown by the cause of his idiosyncrasy. Amelia.

People would often stare, seeing a boy like Elias dressed in women's clothing. Little did they know of his abusive upbringing. His mother died when he was only five years of age. That left him in the custody of an aggressive and perverse step-father. The man was already abusive towards Elias's mother, and her death only caused him to channel his aggression towards young Eli. He beat him. He would force Elias to wear girls' clothes. No one ever really knew why he did it. All the police could settle on, was that this man was not in his right mind. What he did was undoubtedly sick. It was wrong.

Subconsciously, Elias created an alias through which he could be more confident after enduring such abuse. For him, it was a coping strategy. For the specialists, it was Dissociative Identity Disorder. When questioned about who he was, Elias had not the slightest idea. He agreed with himself to give a reasonable amount of thought to the question. The doctors said that there were special methods, and treatments that would take Amelia away from him. He did not want that. Amelia had always been there for Elias back in the days of his youth. He felt that she had taken the abuse for him. She was stronger. The doctors said that they could help him. There were things called psychotherapy, hypnosis, and electroconvulsive therapy that would supposedly help to rid Elias of Amelia forever. The specialists said that they could be able to reach the real Elias, and bring him out to stay. Amelia didn't want that. "Elias needs me", he would often say when in his Amelia state. Elias was hers.

Amelia was strong, indeed; but could not the same be said of a tyrant? Strength is neither good nor bad. The unveiling of ethics in such a thing as strength would depend on how such a sword would be wielded. Strong actions in themselves indicate nothing about the reasoning; and are, therefore, nothing without a purpose. Amelia's strength was a deceiving type; A sort similar to that of The Serpent. Elias knew Amelia to be his savior and a friend. But Amelia had dark ways, too. Strength will lead to greed; greed to possession; possession to an undying hunger for power; and ultimately, control. She was determined. After protecting Elias for so long, Amelia saw what she wanted. She would have it.

Elias was not unfamiliar with the more sinister side of his distant character. He noticed that after speaking with the doctors about the possibility of getting rid of Amelia, he had never been quite himself. Something was tugging at his being from the inside. Something he had never felt before. Hands, he had described, that were gripping his soul. They held onto it tightly and they never quite seemed to let go, nor did they ever loosen their grasp. Days upon days of increasingly firm claws began to choke him, desperate to seize his entire being.

Now, amidst the setting sun, the young man sat in deep thought. What should he do? If he would ever address this issue, the time was now. Elias had pushed it off to the side, kept it in the back of his mind, and had endeavored to procrastinate in every possible way up until now. Honestly, he had been taking into account what the doctors had mentioned. Maybe letting go of Amelia would help him; socially, anyways. Elias wasn't stupid. Perhaps, he thought, more people would understand him, and open their hearts to him if he were a single person instead of two. The doctors had explained to him several times, that others weren't comfortable with the aspect of uncertainty that came with being around Elias. He finally understood that Amelia was keeping him from having a normal life. His mind wandered to the possibility of agreeing to become properly medicated.

Immediately and unexpectedly, his body snapped back from his accustomed tentative stance, and straightened itself up into a confident, strong posture. The dying fire rekindled in his darkening eyes. What had eventually simmered down into embers woke up in a roaring of zest. Encircled by a smoggy obscurity, the flames grew stronger in what had been, for so long, the poor, conflicted, green eyes of Elias. But now, his mind jerked into that of another. The thoughts of doctors and medicine were abruptly discarded. Eyes grew darker still. Emotions of rage, jealousy, and hurt built up in the body. Then, from the lips that were no longer his, came a delicate, yet stern voice: "I've always protected you; but I'll take over from here."