Story cover for Moving On by marshma110
Moving On
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Laufend, Zuerst veröffentlicht Apr. 12, 2018
I can remember when my mother told me about the tales she had of watching the big thick black clouds that electrified the air into submission. When it released its deadly white bullets into the ground beating the punishments and sins into crackling surface we call home.

I want to be able to experience that for myself without my past...
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DIABOLIC SERIES 3 All my life I've lost my breath. It would happen over the simplest things, if I stretched too high to catch a ball, lifted something for too long, if I sneezed, if I talked. Other times I would loose my breath because I had a panic attack, or was yelling or being yelled at, if I was exerting myself on a physical level. Having the wind knocked out of me is a familiar feeling. But I didn't truly know what it felt like to loose the air in my lungs, loose the feeling that has kept my alive my entire life. I didn't loose it when I fell in love, I didn't loose it when I found out one drunken night with the girl I love would mean a baby, I didn't loose it when I found out that I'd actually be a father. No, I lost that when she told me that she doesn't love me. When she spit in my face how much she can't stand me, how I've ruined her life, that she doesn't want me in any aspect. I'm not her 'type' whatever that means, seeing as she quite willingly had sex with me. Her saying this made this ugly, lonely and depressing thought hit my diaphragm. Violet Thompson is carrying my child. And she despises me for it. The way I came to this conclusion was simple, Nonnie- -that's what I call her, since her middle name's Noel and I wanted something to call her that if I shouted it in the middle of a crowd, only she would turn to and know it's me- -told me that all she wants is someone there. A father for her baby, a physical presence. Not a mind, personality. Not a person. A body. A shell. I've been a dead man walking. And I was that shell, was just a body... until I found him.
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