Shattered Memories

A worn book was placed in the giant's waiting lap. He looked up into the aged sapphire eyes, silently requesting an explanation. The withered hands pulled open the leather, nodding to hte small text inside.

My baby boy,
Loved through and through,
Forever in our thoughts

The hazel eyes watered slightly and he understood. This was his past; his entire life was now held firmly between his fingertips. The page flipped, revealing a black and white photo. Eyes steeled themselves as the book – his childhood - was slammed.
Startled blue met dark green. “W...why?”
“It's not my place,” was the stotic reply given. There was an underlying tone of saddness in his hazel orbs that did not go unoticed by the elder. Both heads turned down, one to better view the other and another to escape the questioning gaze.
“You will regret that choice.” Hair whipped around delicate features to view the speaker. Hazel turned murderous as the tall man stormed out of the small room and into the afternoon air. The older one turned to scold the girl but held her tongue.
“He forsook us all. What makes you think he'll accept us again?!” The woman fell to the ground with a barely audible thud. “It`s too late.”
A wiry arm wrapped around the distraught person`s shoulder, silently agreeing and offering her support. “It`s not too late....not for him.”

*                *                *                *                *                *                *              *

The wind whistled around the lone figure, sending chills through his large frame. He stumbled and barely griped his large hand against the building. Fuzzy hazel blurred his surroundings, blending the colours to become a perfect blur.
Rain dripped from the sky, it`s soft pitter-plop joining the wind in some sort of chaotic harmony. His hand slipped from the solid wood and time seemed to freeze. His body made a barely audible thud as it hit the soft dirt of the road. Shaky arms pushed his chest from the mud and he paused. His face was reflecting back at him, disturbed only by the ripples of stray raindrops.
The bags under his hazel orbs didn`t shock him. Nor did his nose or messy hair. The eyes – once so full of life and emotion – were staring at him, past him, haunting his very existance. They seemed dead compared to his tanned skin or even his strangly hair.
He pushed himself forward to break the trance he had put himself in. His backside landed in one of the small puddles surrounding him. A scream loosed itself from his throat, crying not at the vision but at his very life. Shouts informed him that this was no place to vent his frusteration.
The tall, lanky frame pushed itself from the mud and grudgingly trudged forward. He took a few steps before veering off to the side, landing himself in an alley. Shaky hands retrieved the book from his belt and threw it across the narrow opening with a primative grunt.
He stared at it accusingly until his eyes got dry. When he blinked all the anger was gone, replaced with an unsurmountable saddness. Muscled legs propelled him forward until the binding was right at his feet. The tall man reached down to grasp the worn book.
It slid open to the middle, showing a picture of a busty brunette clinging onto a younger version of himself. They were both happily smiling covered in mud. The caption caught his attention;

 

To Delila and Cybron;

May your smiles never fade

His muscled relaxed and his eyes slid closed. He flipped the book over so that it hid the picture. Right now, it was too much for his tired mind. His large hands opened the book once more, this time from the front. The end someone would normally start from. The pictures of him as a baby were easily flipped past, ignoring the time in his life when he was most innocent. He froze at one of him, no more than 4, was sitting between two people. Most likely his parents.
Family is forever
His eyes slid shut as the picture stirred something he had forgotten about ; the pain of bieng alone. Page after page he went through, each picture`s meaning blurring together. The writing seemed almost too perfect to be true. Every drop of ink perfectly placed. They were mocking him, daring him to think otherwise.
The book clattered to the ground with unearthly noise. It took a moment to get what had happened. He had dropped it. The picture started at him. His own eyes seemed to pierce his heart. Exactly as they had done before. That wasn`t what bothered him most though.
No, not even close.
Delila`s carefree smile shone as bright as it would have if she was before him. Her eyes glimmering with unspoken love and courage. He was unable to look away from this defining moment, captured perfectly in this photograph.
It was the day he had first killed.
The night she had confessed.
The hour his mind had shattered.
He backed away from the bound hell. His inner voices lashing out at him, causing him to panic. Breathing stopped for a few seconds as he struggled to remember how his lungs worked. The images flutted through his mind, one after another. Their captions blended in some insane melody.
He hit the ground and remained there until it stopped. There was no warning, nor was there any transition period. It was just over. Plain and simple. He forced his frame over to his personal book of innocence. It had left that day. He flipped the album shut, knowing automatically there was no more in it.
They hadn`t bothered after he died inside. What was the point, after all? Delila was dead. By his own hand nonetheless. It had been a meaningless death everyone had said. Something unnessicary. Brought about by a demon in disguise.
He did what any scared person would`ve done; he ran. That was why he was here. He had ran and ran and ran until he could go no further. His movements didn`t reach his broken mind but he knew they were being made.
When he fell asleep that night, the book, his memories, was clutched tightly to his chest.

Author's Note

My picture making skills are on vacation, please excuse the horrible banner.