F.L.Y.N.N [ Book no.1 of "The Fouling Damned duo"]

prologue | life hurts

HE WAS SOMEONE who was feared by many. 

His father was part of the C.R.I.M.S.O.N. Mafia from downtown. This was the part of downtown that was not shown in the city hall cameras, the part of town where the police had no access. All the members drove a red Chevrolet Colorado and sported colored tattoos and the biggest, over-the-top gold jewelry.

He didn't care for any of it though.

He was more interested in ways to be invisible. His eyes closed in deep thought. A thought that could never really be stopped. The stop of his palms leading their way to his temples, about to scratch his head in disgust. UGH.

" This hurts. My life hurts." It was like he was robbed of his soul, robbed of his pain: his terrifying kryptonite.

That day he was in a fight with his father's mafia, the Crimsons, as they like to call themselves. Although, spell the word out in a form of the C.R.I.M.S.O.N. acronym and that's what the whole organization is really called.

 His right foot throbbed from the pain that the co-leader of the mafia, Jace, decided today was a good day to stalk him from behind towards his apartment only to demand the unpaid money he owed him for several months.

If one thing was certain, it was the throbbing of his heart against-against once more- his chest. But wait...It wasn't his chest that was on fire, it was his right foot.

"Crap. Shit, this pain hurts like hell." He scolded himself, wondering when the pain will stop, and when will this hell end.

It hurts like hell.

That hell to him was just a metaphor for him not getting what he wanted. All he wanted was to be loved and be a "normal" guy who'd get shit done when he wanted it and when he could and fast. That hell to him was just another word for his life, his inevitable never-ending PAIN and yeah she thinks he's a C-R-E-E-P and yeah he's probably just as unattractive as the rest of the guys who've ever tried to get with her.  

After all, instead of branding new Jordans like the other guys, he was branding the latest looks in the category of the "unattractive creep". Speaking of categories, today's things on the to-do list for Axel Tremblay was to get home.

Yes, home.

Home for him was a small two-bedroom studio complex down the New York City Blvd. Ever since that day, he decided to get a place of his own-an exact three states away, fourteen hours and sixteen minutes away from Illinois- he'd never call his "real" home any worthy of a home. He shifted his feet as best as he could, down the paved sidewalk.

Another time in a world that wasn't called "crazy" Axel was his counterpart, hence Axel his real birth-righted name. Now, thanks to a few busted knives and shady masks that were found off the black market, he was his own persona.

A persona that was no longer a person; but an enigmatic, secretive version of himself. The him that not even the police nor the mafia knew about.

While the mafia killed them for an exchange of revenge that piled into more money for their credit accounts, he killed people, not just for the fun of it, but for the ability to lurk out of the deafening cave.

It's not like he was the only one who was insane. She was too. Why would she pop into his life like it was some kind of game? Pop-goes-the-weasel.

Those kinds of games.

With her long, wavy brown hair and bucked-yellow-teeth, she was the type who you'd read in stories where the main protagonist has a glow up!

Or, when the main protagonist was invisible, then became beautiful. While the rest of them called her stupid and ugly-mother-fucker, he only thought of her as his queen.

From the very beginning. The very beginning was when he took him out of his deep dark thoughts, the enigmatic "cave".

That moment Axel met her she was like the light that was peeking out of a cave when it's past midnight and you need to sleep soon; she would pound her fists against the walls metaphorically.

This was like how Axel's mind was wired to rotate back-and-forth-back-and-forth just so he could stay awake to hear her pounding. He would've then (if he was actually in a CAVE) pulled out his secret weapon; his what-do-you-call a shotgun; a device of sorts, along with his second secretive weapon, a device of sorts a pocket-full-of happiness digital polaroid camera.

The one thing that would make him forget all of his insecurities, and terrible thoughts of self-harm.

It was a stupid idea. He was stupid.

But it's not like he was entirely stupid.

To think that the girl who flounced 'round the schoolyard helping teach kids-as her pastime hobby- was being manipulated by just opening her mouth and uttering a simple "hi" to Axel.

He was like his weapon; only that he too could be too easily manipulated by those around him.

The cave was Axel's definition of the word l-o-n-e-l-y Spell out the letters of the words slowly and all one would get is a jumble of misplaced vowels and consonants stacked together to spell out a word.

A word.

Just a word.

The more that Axel tried, the more that he couldn't seem to open up. How do people interact with each other less awkwardly?

He always thought out loud to himself: "Life doesn't just speak nor tell-a-tale for someone who's weariness prologues them."

But, what was his worry?

His worry was that deep down that enigmatic, make-believe nonexistent cave, it was sinking deeper, deeper still. It was creating a never ending hole beneath his heart, trying to make him succumb to his devilish desires. What desires?

Why it is evil itself, as it ties his thoughts like a ball of string.

*****

It was past midnight again.

The indigo sky was an ombre of dark blue and light hues of purple woven in the never ending sky, as it painted the darkness of emotion that was within his mind, his very heart.

The stars were sprinkled across the sky, lighting up every area of the dark sky. He looked above and sighed to himself. 

Who am I kidding?

Who am I kidding?!

Life hurts, and even so, he had the drive to recall:

Everything... And how this all started.

He starts to remember his childhood.