Chapter 2Mature

“I sit alone in my bedroom.

Even though I’m here alone in this metal prison of a warehouse, I still lock the door.

I pretend there are people who care about me and I don’t want them walking in on me.

What my illusions allow is for me to be left alone.

But it’s still good to think there is someone who cares about you.

I think I’ve made a theory about this ‘fate’.

‘Fate’ brings people in your life…but you decided who you want to leave and who you want to stay.

Why am I so stupid?

I should’ve wondered with Mason when I had a chance.

I could tell he was like me.

Tired eyes…dark and heavy.

His hair was bleached white and was somewhat spiked but it suited his strong facial features well.

I remember the clothes he wore.

Baggy dark green pants, and a black long-sleeve tee with white stripes down the sleeves and one around the collar.

His lips…so perfect…and they had that kinda curve to it that was again suiting him.

Nice to know though…I met someone who did actually care…even just for that minute.

The distant thunder cracked, and lighting will soon streak the sky.

I’d do anything…just for once…get up courage to go out on a nice spring or summer day in the sun instead of being inside and trapped in the shade and darkness.

To be out in the sun…to smell flowers, relax in the soothing heat, and let warm breezes skim my face and blow through my brown hair. I want to see green, blue, yellow, pink, purple, and all other colors out there besides gray, black and white.

All I have are computer images of how beautiful the world can be.

This beautiful…yet this ugly world…

It’s hard to be on one side when the other is too powerful and then its conflict on your sense.

So many honest, great words are usually never heard.

To be honest, I think there are heard, but the words are listened to when the speaker dies.

That’s when people start listening…when you’re gone.

I looked up a song…the title caught my attention…‘Lighters’ by a trio…Eminem, Bruno Mars, and Royce Da59.

I let my tears fork down my cheek from my swollen eyes.

The words shook me…no…they connected with me from experience.

Think I’m violent?

I learn it from you.

I want there to be peace.

I want there to be love.

I want there to be happiness.

I don’t like to fight…another assumption you create in your feeble minds.

I want to show myself as I am, and be proud of myself…the thing is:

I have had no one compliment me. No one said to me, “You can do it!” or “We are, (or ‘I am’), so proud of you”.

I don’t know what I'm good at.

I don’t know how to do most things.

Lifting my finger off the mouse pad on my laptop I curled down my fingers and put my half-fist on my cheek and tears soaked into my hand as well.

The salt felt tingly on my skin…almost soothing.

I guess it means I'm tired and crying myself to sleep usually is what my body is use to.

You think I’m sad?

Well, you’re dead right there.

Think I’m depressed?

I don’t know. It depends on how far sadness goes I think.”


Christy went to bed.

She dreamt that for once in the world…no one killed for greed, power, or food.

But in reality…she might have to kill herself to have a smile in heaven.


“Sometimes…people run away, just to see if anyone cares to follow them.

I ran away because, I was tired a crying, sick of trying, even though I had a smile every day, it was fake, and I was slowly dying of misery.

Tomorrow, I go out, and if fate wants me to find Mason again then I will find him.

I have been too miserable for far too long to miss out on someone who can possibly give me a meaning of life.”


Christy woke the next morning, she slept, but she didn’t get rest.

She walked out in her baggy clothes to conceal herself and wondered the streets of New York going on two hours. She found an alley and laid back against the wall of a building and stared at the corner edge of the adjacent building. She hit her head against the building’s wall that she leaned against, and had her favorite Linkin Park song go through her head, Breaking The Habit.

“The funny thing about my habit is that I never truly broke them.”

Christy gave up. She turned the corner of the building and she rammed into another figure. She was about to fall backwards, then she was caught by her wrist and pulled into the strong silent embrace of something fast.

Everything around her muted, as she looked up she couldn’t believe her eyes.

“MASON! I actually found him! His hair still bleached pure white, and his face still striking.

His lips right at my forehead since he was a head taller than me.

His eyes still tired, but the deepest blue I have ever seen.”


“Christy?” he asked.

“Yes?” she replied.

“Wha-what are you doing out?” Mason asked.

“Just wondering.” she said.



“I guess fate, did want us to find each other again. And I believe you owe me a walk.” Mason said.

For once in Christy’s life…she smiled bright and wide, revealing her bright teeth. She never felt her cheekbones rise that high before, she never had felt her own eyes light up.

“Well, I’m on my way back…” Christy thought about the right word to say about the warehouse. She didn’t want it to look like she was troubled. Everything she could assume about Mason could be wrong, but she doesn’t want him to think of her as a weak person in the world.

“Back where? I’ll gladly walk there with ya. I actually need to hope it’s somewhere warm, or decent. Is it your home?” he asked.

“It’s where I live.” She explained vaguely.

Mason hesitated about how she said the sentence then agreed to walk with her, where she lives, instead of her home.

As they approached the warehouse, Christy was preparing to run away. She couldn’t take the admitting of that she lived nowhere, lived for nothing, and how she was nothing. As she was still beside Manson thought she began crying silently, then as she sped up her paste Manson gripped her wrist and she was trapped.

She kept her head down  with her hood shielding her face.

“Christy?” he asked.

Her face felt like it was about to scream from all the embarrassment and worthlessness she felt.

The End

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