Well, it seems I have a few of you interested in the story anyway. That makes me happy. It's always nice to be asked to post more reading material. This book is actually complete, but I'd never post all of it on a place as unsecure as dA. Still, I hope you enjoy, and I hope Aaron drags you down into the depths of his pain...

Thanks again to the following clubs for featuring some of my work...









Now...onto part 4 (which is actually just the end of Chapter 2)






I ignored the first insult.

I felt a pull at my heart, a wrenching, tears forming in each eye. I wasn’t hurt by the childish name-calling, but because this man had truly lost all sense of love. It was clearly evident in the tone of his voice. I had been there, but I had been strong enough to survive the velocity, the impact, and the rebirth through the teeth of utter madness.

“Are you fucking deaf, asshole?” he blurted, amplifying his voice as if he truly thought I was deaf.

Surely people were now staring. I kept my gaze locked upon the artificial fireplace, mesmerized by the dance of the digital flames, hoping this aggressor would simply calm himself and go back to his magazine.

It wasn’t as if I wasn’t used to people looking at me. Kane’s name had been the first visible scar I inflicted, a constant reminder of the boy that I had loved so very much. Should I ever suffer from Alzheimer’s, ever have a frontal lobotomy, or ever survive brain damage that forces me to forget everything that had happened in my life, I wanted to make sure I’d always remember Kane’s name.

In fact, I remembered watching a movie once where a man had tattooed the name of his wife’s killer on his body because he suffered from anterograde amnesia, and he wanted to make sure he never forgot. Similarly, this was just as important.

No, stares didn’t bother me. I inflicted pain upon myself ten thousand times worse than anything these empty husks could aim my way. I was simply trying to avoid the inevitable confrontation that I knew was forthcoming, a confrontation that I knew would ruin these three people’s lives.

Again, I could have stood and exited and café, but I chose not to. I lived in service to all human beings, and so I would walk the path that was laid out before me, taking each step with certainty. It wasn’t always an easy choice to make, but I did what I thought needed be done.

“You’re scaring my little girl,” he continued, his voice still at a volume that was sure to attract as much attention as possible. “Halloween isn’t for another two weeks. Why don’t you find some place to hide until then?”

Laughter in the room.

Poor, misguided souls. If only they could see the beauty I saw, or appreciate the world as I did. There was so much to see, to feel, to enjoy. Most people’s lives were so empty and shallow, but they could be so much more with hardly any effort at all.

I felt sorrow for them. Those of us that had fallen, that had crossed the threshold into the abysmal darkness, liked to be called the “Lost,” but it was these people who were lost. These people couldn’t see past their own sickly flesh, let alone deep into the souls of those around them.

Seeing the opportunity to shed some enlightenment, I took the chance. This miserable creature needed guidance, so I would try to provide some, just as my Lady had provided it for me when I needed it most. It was a last, desperate act to do something good before I did something terrible.

“Some have said that life is a journey, and along the path we walk there will be many confusing and dangerous trails,” I began, refusing to turn my attention his way just yet. I wanted to speak my peace without having to look into his eyes, because I knew I would see nothing but anger inside of them. His malevolence might have caused me to reevaluate my decision to try and help him, so I continued to speak, my eyes on the electronic fireplace. “The trails we choose and the choices we make along the way are what define us as human beings. Enlightenment will come to those who pick the most righteous of paths, those who live not just for themselves but for the sake of everything around them. Peace shall come to their souls, and when it is time for their souls to pass, they shall dance among the stars.

“The man who stumbles across a rock and then leaves it for someone else to trip over has chosen to live for the betterment of only himself, while the man who trips over that same rock and moves it aside for the safety of those to follow has chosen to live for the betterment of others. Yet there is a third kind of entity, a third choice, the most rare and spiritual of them all. The man who trips over the rock, picks it up, and takes his time to find a spot where the rock will serve a more suitable purpose not only lives for others, he lives for all.”

I turned to him.

The confused look on his face could only be described as “ priceless,” but amusement was beyond me. Sometimes, it only took one precious moment of enlightenment to change someone’s entire life. Sadly, it hadn’t happened for this primitive being.

I quoted, as I oftentimes did, “‘Men are equal; it is not birth but virtue that makes the difference.’

“You ought to learn to live for your wife and child, and not just for yourself. By living for them and through them, you will find more meaning, more happiness, and more beauty is this limited time we have on earth. It is not our time on this tortured plane of existence that matters the most, but our time spent amongst the stars, our time standing beside the Divine Entity, the Creator, the Nameless One, or whatever you should choose to call the giver of life. Your time in this flesh is but a mere trial, a training program, a test of the soul. Should you fail, you will be reborn to suffer it all over again, as many times as it takes for you to get it right, and the worse you fail, the harder each successive trial shall become.”

Another look of confusion crossed his face. He put down his magazine.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he roared, venom dripping from his lips. His face was turning crimson. His aura expanded out from his body in a violent, rusty red wave. “Are you a fucking wiseass or something?”

The wife was a beautiful woman with soft brown eyes and dark brown hair. She was hiding her innocent daughter behind her, shielding her from the onslaught. She understood how volatile her husband’s temper was and assumed there would be a fight.

Looking into her eyes, I tried to convey with a look how sorry I felt for her. Her expression changed, almost as if she understood what I was trying to portray, yet she didn’t understand why.

Turning back to the husband, I flicked a look toward his hand. My heart ached because I was about to ruin these people’s lives, but it had to be done. None of life’s lessons were learned easily. More often than not, the most efficient way to accomplish something in life was to take the hardest, most dangerous road one could think of and overcome each of the obstacles along the way.

“There is a soft scent on your fingertips. It is subtle, perhaps because you had tried to wash it off, but I happen to have a very keen sense of smell,” I responded.

That caught his interest. He hadn’t known anyone could smell it. His gaze flicked quickly toward his wife, hoping she wasn’t paying attention to my spiel, but his anger had already done the job of grabbing everyone’s attention.

“The fragrance is a mixture of cherry and vanilla, something that reminds me of a body spray they sell at one of the stores in the mall.”

“Shut the fuck up, asshole!” he screamed, perhaps thinking that his irate tone would frighten me into silence.

The automotive magazine was forgotten. Fists clenched and unclenched. He was beyond pissed. He couldn’t afford to let his secret be revealed, but his wife and daughter deserved more than what he had to offer. He was living for himself, but at the moment, I was living for them. They wouldn’t see it that way, but I was doing what was right for them, for their future, for their sanity. This could have gone on for decades, and the two might never have caught wind of it.

“No, let him talk, Bill,” the wife interjected. Now she understood the look I had given her. She likely thought I was lying, but she was curious, and curiosity had to be satiated one way or the other. “ Please, go on.”

“Come on, Bobbi, don’t listen to this piece of shit.”

“Yet your wife is wearing a very expensive perfume named after one of the newer pop stars, one of the youths whose innocent flesh can be seen plastered all over the television and in men’s magazines,” I continued, ignoring the husband’s incessant insults. His words meant nothing to me. The time for words had already passed, and the only ones that would have done him any good were words of apology and confession, both of which seemed far beyond his physical and moral capabilities. “ Perhaps the scent of her perfume is too strong for her to notice the subtle scent of your fingertips, but rest assured, I can smell it.”

“That’s enough out of you, fuckface! It’s time to take it outside!” Bill yelled as he stood tall.

He could hit me all he wanted. I wouldn’t fight back. I would take the pain upon myself to spare him some of the torture he would have to endure in the next life. This was a trapped soul, someone who had no understanding whatsoever of life, someone who was doomed to be reborn again and again until he could come to that point of understanding, of enlightenment. This was a soul who would be trapped in flesh for centuries, and I felt true pity for him on a scale he would never comprehend.

The wife shot to her feet and grabbed his hand. He tried to pull away but he wasn’t quick enough. He hadn’t expected her to act, but the fact that I knew exactly what kind of perfume she was wearing forced her hand.

“So what the hell is that smell?” she asked. She seemed surprised that I had been right, but she was too hurt to let it show. Tears threatened, glazing her eyes in sadness.

Jade was pretending to be interested in her puzzle, but I knew she heard every word. She could hear the anger in the tones of her parents’ voices. She probably didn’t understand, but someday she would, and she would remember.

Tears formed in my eyes as I thought of the child’s pain. I wished it could have been different for her, but she didn’t need this monster to look up to for the rest of her life.

“Nothing, babe,” Bill said, wiping his hands on his pants as though it would rid him of the smell, of the guilt, of the blood that tainted his very core. Lies spewed like razors in a desperate attempt to cut the cords of guilt hooked into his flesh. “It’s probably just the soap they have here in the restroom. This clown is just pulling some shit out of his ass to try and embarrass me. Don’t listen to him.”

“Why make it any worse for her than it is already going to be?” I asked, tears falling down my cheeks for the wife and child. He looked at me stupidly. He couldn’t comprehend why I was crying.

“Shut your lying fucking mouth, shit-for-brains!”

He pulled away from his wife and turned to me. He was a gigantic fissile atomic nucleus and my words were the neutron careening toward him at blinding speed. His aura had reached its boiling point. Every action had to have consequence—a reaction of some sort—even when simply trying to do something right for someone.

“I do not lie. I will even speak her name if I must,” I responded, ready and willing to take the full onslaught of the nuclear explosion.

A second light in the room popped somewhere behind me, glass breaking apart and falling onto the tiled floor. The door opened to admit a new customer, and as it did, a mischievous imp tumbled through the air to whisper in my ear. The door shut and the breeze died, but not before I was rewarded with the name I sought.

“Fuck you” was all Bill said in return. “Come on, Bobbi, let’s get the hell away from this freak.”

The wife didn’t move. She stared at me. She didn’t know whether to believe me or not. She wanted to believe her husband. She wanted to believe that he had been faithful to her. She wanted to believe all the things that would make her life easier, but they wouldn’t be the truth.

“Tell me her name,” she asked. There was sadness in her eyes that only made me cry even more as I nodded. I cried for her heart, for her daughter, and for the lives that would be torn apart. If I spoke the name of someone she knew, then love would be lost in the span of a single heartbeat.

But Bill didn’t deserve her love. He deserved nothing.

“Teresa,” I said.

A giant fist hit me in the face, but I had been ready for it. I took the blow without flinching.

Bobbi burst into tears, and as she cried, her poor little angel cried as well. Jade may not have understood why, but hearing her mother cry had made her cry. The puzzle that had occupied her mind only moments before was now forgotten.

My tears returned twofold and I pawed at them futilely as I stood. I cried not for my own pain, but for the pain Bobbi and Jade would have to endure over the coming months, as they fought their way through a divorce instead of celebrating the coming holidays with their friends and family.

“God damn you! My own fucking sister! How could you fucking do this to me? How could you do this to Jade? How could you ruin all that we have? You fucking asshole!” the wife yelled, rivers of sorrow bursting through the floodgates. The rest faded away as I exited the café, eyes of all sorts following me through the door.

The pumpkin-flavored latte tasted like ash, but I refused to throw away something that had been taken from the earth in order to nourish me. I drank it without tasting. It was warm, and it took the chill from my veins as I meandered the cold October streets.
Lights went low, traffic thinned, and the night air grew a bite uncommon for the time of year, but not unanticipated. Living in this part of the country, one had to expect abnormal weather patterns at any time of the year.

Walking with purpose, I made my way toward my shop, but the night was still young, and my Lady seemed in a playful mood. A streetlight exploded after I was ten feet from it, glass shattering and falling into the road.

Sighing, I turned back, collecting as much of the glass as I safely could. I found a trash barrel outside of a closing store further up the street and cast most of the waste into it.

Looking long and hard at one jagged shard of glass, I took it to my flesh. I gasped the shard with my left hand, clenching my fist as tightly as I could. Glass cut into my palm until blood dripped onto the pavement below, and then I tossed the makeshift dagger into the trash with the rest.

“For Bobbi and Jade,” I whispered. I hung my head and kissed the pentacle that dangled from my dog collar. “May they find the peace, happiness, and love that they both deserve.”

I turned from the trash barrel, from the closing store with its curious employees, and from the shattered remains of a love that once was. Tears sprang to my eyes as I thought of what those two would have to go through, and I didn’t bother to wipe them away. I let them flow freely and submersed myself in the agony of it. They deserved more, but that was all this poor soul could offer.