--------------------------------------------------------------------------------- His fingers closed around the object, holding it in a firm grip for a few seconds before he threw it across the room. It bounced off the wall, landing on the floor a few feet in from of him. The figure was made of plastic, so unlike the other objects he had thrown at the wall, it wouldn’t break. He could throw it against that wall a thousand times and the figure would always stay the same. Never changing, always there. Always right there. He turned around, searching the room from something else to throw. Something else that he could shatter against the wall. Something that would break into a thousand pieces. He didn’t care about the shards of glass that were all over his room. Didn’t care about the shards that cut themselves into his feet as he walked over them in his search for something else to throw. He felt the pain, savored the pain, needed the pain. Right now that pain was all he had. A physical pain that dulled the emotional one. Dulled the pain that came with loosing everything. The everything he had had. The everything that had walked out the door. The everything that had left him here, alone with his thoughts, his memories, and his glass. The one he didn’t wish to think about. The one he wanted to go
away. The one he knew would never go away. The one he knew would one
day drive him insane, if it hadn’t already. The one a small piece
of plastic had caused.
|
|
© WHYTEknight 2002-2008. This story is fiction, which means it is not true, none of this is real. Any actions similar to reality is just a coincidence. This story may be based on real people, but it is not about real events. I do not know the Backstreet Boys, nor am I in any way affiliated with them, their friends, family or management. Again, this is a work on fiction, I made it up! |
| Return to fadedsouls.net |