His Sour Lemon #3.1

The Lone Dove: #3.1

A legacy is what they called it. A contract supplied within my own grid, my own inheritance. An inheritance made of punishment, blood and pain, it's all I knew and it's all I was branded to see. I never once looked in a mirror, just watching the eyes I hated, the slithering coldness of a rare colour, of a rare shade. Silver. Sour silver.

Being a nine year old in frozen tears, looking up at a man who aided in creating me, discouraged and humiliated me, and turned me into something I wanted no part of. Was it so hard to ask for a guardian to show me the way out of this cognitive, sticky and silver lining of a world so narrowed and so concentrated in a battle of life.

That contract set me free, but placed me in another eternal cage...my inheritance. Blood money. An enterprise previously run on fear and I was seen as a continuum of my donor's line. I lived up to it, before knowing my Elite. Before creating The Elite.

I was consumed and resolved, I let the air get the best of me and I didn't see her coming, I didn't even think of it, her name was irrelevant, she was 'Lemon' to me and the sourest of them all. Her bite and bark was grating. Melanie Myers did more than challenge me, corrupt me and forced on a new change, a different me that I hadn't known was possible.

I knew fear like the back of my hand and when I saw it in amethyst eyes, a shade I could never forget, I latched onto it and vowed to eradicate it but I lost sight, I lost the brink of sanity when it came to the sour lemon I could not understand. Her stubborn behaviour struck a demonic voice, a demon that wanted to protect, instead of destroy.

I was too late, falling for her wasn't a part of my pathway, it wasn't a future I saw, I saw myself alone, a silver storm with nothing to calm it's nature, but she...my sour lemon...she tore me to pieces and demanded silence...she didn't see what that demand, what that order did to me until I wanted nothing more than to drown in my lemon light.