The Burns

by DanieLovesYou

We don't know a lot about Zachary Goode or the Blackthorne Boys, but maybe there's a reason for that. The pulse of anger beats heavier where no love thrives, and so we never heal. No scars, no pain, just the burns. A preface to the Gallagher Girl Series, a story before the story, if you will. Read it, if you please. Completed.

1. Chapter 1: Introduction

I know what ur thinking. "Nat u've got two stories to finsiha n now ur starting a new one?"

Well yes I am.

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Explanation for this story: You know I wrote "A Day with the Boys" which is frankly a happy story of the Blackthorne Boys. We all like to believe that. But that's no the reality. It is a school for assassins. And I felt that I needed to do something so people would see that there is a dark and light side to everything. But this story is gray. The boys are walking dead people. No emotions. And this is all in Zach's POV.

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THE BURNS

CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTION

I've always wondered why my life was this way. It's something I'll do until the day I may die. And if my life stays this way, it might be very soon.

And the worst part is that everyone knows. Everyone knows what kind of people we are. What we have done, what we cannot do. We can't hold ourselves back, from anything. We kill without thinking. We are merely by-standers of life. Only going through motions, no feelings. Never feelings.

But of course I was that one exception. The only one who ever loved.

The only one who could love.

We were known for not having hearts, and though we can play any role, we have no real emotions, no real purpose in our lives. Maybe once upon a time we did, but I think that time is well gone. But I wish that one day we will open your eyes to see the beauty that is in our lives. I have tried and failed to open their eyes. So I left. I blame myself if they were to end up as monsters. Only myself. Because what I did was selfish. But I couldn't help it.

And as I watch the ash pile grow larger and larger, I can't help think this was my entire fault. No one else. I had done this to them. I could have stopped this, but I didn't. I only hope one day they'll get it right.

The scars on us represent what we've done, but the black tattoo represents what we have become. And I hate what we have become. If only I could erase it all. The memories, the cries, the secrets, the tears, the lies, especially my own.

But there was still a chance. A chance because the fire is now over. The flames have died down. They weren't going to hurt us anymore.

And all that was left was the burns.

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SO any reviews on that, I'm really trying to write more, but I'm finding my self forcing the other stories. So I'm taking a short break and try writing these stories again before the end of November.

Nat