Chapter 1: Flashback

foreshadow

This bitter sweetness, the touch of a warm hand. I don't want to let go. May it be tainted and red, I don't mind. Any hand was fine, but now I crave yours. Devilish boy, I am worse. The purity projected from my appearance is wretched within from the filth. No soap or water can cleanse the dirt. No matter how much I try to scrub it off, my pores seep all this dark fluid to the point I'm drowning. The air is unclean and I don't want to breathe, please hold my hands, I don't want to forget the pain you've brought and the impulsive lies you've said. I was fine then, and I'm fine now. Whatever, like a parasite I'll move on, from another to another to another till I find a body that won't die from my endearment. But I can't deny the feelings whom I first love and the memories of another who helped destroy me in my time of need. I was weak. I am weak. But I am strong. But what for? My friends, family, myself? Lost and confused, confused and lifeless.

If you told me you loved me, I'd believe you. My subconscious would ignore the bold warning signs but the aroma from the past still lingers around like a freshly baked eclair cooling down on the counter. Warm soft bread heats the melting chocolate on top and as you take your first bite, a surprise of vanilla pastry cream adds onto the flavor not over powering the sweetness to begin with. A treat so good you'd forget your surroundings, the uncultivated criminals and the worn down ghetto shop you're in. Unfortunately the eclair is gone and the remaining sweetness is too much. Gulp. No mater how much water you drink, the cream confection begins to irritate your mouth. The consequences begin; feelings of wanting to dislocate your jaw and rip off your tongue, or scrubbing away your taste buds. Anything to remove the bitter sweetness. If I cry for help who will come?