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This is the Death of MeThe hunger within that claws the cage that is my stomach. Cage the beast. Make
it angry. Play Pandora. Back to the beginning, repeat step one.
Deadly repetition never ends. Misery becomes my saturation. Drink the wine of
lust and pretend its love. Close my eyes and believe. It's all good.
This leaves an empty place inside, one that only you can fill. But who are you and
why do I feel the need to swim the ocean for you?
Compulsions drive my actions, gives me no control to this story's end. The quill in
Bloodlines - ProloguePrologue
Beams of light reflected across the old ruins. Minuscule particles embedded the weathered stones, causing the stones to have a shimmered glow of a thousand colors. Many years of elemental exposure had reduced towering columns to mere stumps, grand walls to waist high inconveniences. Age had allowed the forest to overcome the ruins. Great oaks had torn apart the stone with immense root systems and brush had cluttered the grounds. Peace that only time could bring whispered through the ruins, mixed with the slightest hint of sorrow.
A young boy, not a day over eleven, hid behind a larger section of the ruined walls. Back pressed against the crumbling stone, the boy sat motionless with his arms wrapped tightly around his knees. Long, deep, breaths escaped his lips, leaving no trace of sound. His dark blue eyes stared intensely at the bush that tucked him against the old wall segment.
At the boy
Nine TimesI saw him nine times.
The first time we were both sitting in the room together, getting ready to take the math test that would determine our placement. I was scatterbrained and throwing things around, trying to find the pencils that I had known I would need but had still just tossed in my purse. He was lounging backwards in his chair, looking for all the world as though he didn’t have a single care in the world, including the upcoming test. It annoyed me, that I was frantic and ready to scream, while someone else could be that relaxed.
I tested out of the class.
I don’t know if he did.
The second time I saw him, it was a few months after I arrived on campus. He was the one rushing and frantic this time, running across the square. He was probably late for class, though I had no way of knowing for sure. I was already lost in my own thoughts and ideas, deciding on my major and convincing people that yes, this is what I really want to do with my life. If they weren
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