There was a boy. No, more a teen than a boy. But as far as he was concerned, he was a boy. We will call him the boy with the scarf, for the sake of simplicity. The boy with the scarf never lived a very complicated life, and he never really wanted too. He was happy in his home, sitting at his laptop, playing his games. He went outside, down to a local park with some swings and would go for hours on end, letting passerby's think what they may of a high school student sitting on a swing at a playground. There were days where he lost track of time, staying at the park until late at night, reading and swinging. But the most important days were when people came up to him. They always asked what he was doing, how old he was with the inevitable 'Bit old to be swinging?' following.
But what always stumped him was when they asked him his name. You see, the boy with the scarf hadn't ever thought very highly of himself. And some may say he had lost who he truly was. Because he didn't even think he deserved a name. So, he always told those who asked his name to call him the boy with the scarf, a name that soon became infamous. And most people he knew called him that. Except for one girl.
This girl,who's name rang out as...Let's call her Lexie. Lexie was the boy with the scarf's everything. She gave him the light in his world that he never had before. She gave his world color and magic, she made him feel alive, and she gave him experiences no one else had. She even made him feel loved, with that first kiss they shared in the park on a day when she was the only one to come by. It made the boy with the scarf that maybe he did have a name, the one she called him: Wonder.
That all changed almost as fast as it had started. Lexie saw the boy's innocence and how he poured his heart out for her. And she used it. She used every drop of it. Everyday she would ask him for help on her homework. And he would say yes. And every day she would ask him to buy her something. And he would say yes. The boy with the scarf, Wonder...He would give his world for her, and then some. Soon it became more extreme. Lexie had taken the boy to a party, holding his hand the whole way. Wonder didn't like parties, he didn't like people. He loved Lexie, and he trusted her. He would do what she wanted because she cared about him just as much as he cared about her.
Right?
The night of the party saw the boy with the scarf's torture. Lexie asked him to kiss every boy and girl there, even when she was totally sober. When Wonder hesitated, she did what she always did.
"You love me, don't you?"
"I just wanna see what it's like, I still love you!"
"I'll kiss you right after!"
"Why don't you love me?"
"You don't trust me!"
"Why don't you trust me!?"
She always did this, and Wonder started to see it...He trusted her more than anything in the world, he was sure he always would, too. He knew that he could trust her more than his own parents, Wonder could always come to her for help and for care and for love. At least, he felt all that before this.
And so as Wonder watched in horror as his girlfriend screamed in his face, and tugged every string and manipulated him like putty to let her kiss every person there except him, not even once...The boy with the scarf's old ways came back to him.
The hours upon days upon weeks spent happily playing his games, drinking energy drinks and staying up late. The hours spent and time lost of him swinging and reading his favorite books and comics. All the time he could've spent doing that if he hadn't been giving Lexie everything she asked for. All because he thought she would be willing to do the same, when, boiled down she didn't give a damn about his life. She only cared when it could bother her, or affect her. She never cared about how he felt, what he did, what she put him through.
So the boy with the scarf dropped his name, and put on a face. A smile that he held until the end of the party, and out the door, until he got to his car. He went to give Lexie a hug goodbye, which was returned with a shove and a hiss of false claims, accusations, and hatreds spat at him. But he kept his smile. The boy with the scarf got in his car and drove back home.
Lexie was the kind of person to take the death of someone else in her life as an insult to her, and never look back at the context. Why fix anything when someone would just get what she wanted for her? It was only the next morning that she realized that person wasn't there, he hadn't followed her back home like usual. Because she wouldn't let him. But she didn't see it that way, and she would make sure no one else did either. And it was around that time that, back at the home of the boy with the scarf, that he was grabbing something out of a case.
He took a deep breath. He started thinking of the years he spent breaking himself for this girl. Every wasted second, penny, breath, kiss, hug and sweet nothing that was the truth, as far as he was concerned. All because he thought she cared. He let his breath out, and raised the gun to his head.
The moment he felt the cold barrel hit his skin, he felt everything he did come rushing back to him, all at once. Every wasted second and all the wastedimeandallthetimehecouldvespentdoingsomethingelse,andtheringinggrew,itgotlouderandlouderuntilitwasshoutingathim!
And the last thing he saw, was the image of a boy, swinging and reading his favorite book. Maybe someday he'd get all that time back.
Then everything went black.