Chapter 1
Ethan
I was dreaming…
The wind howled violently, making the vines of the enormous willow beat against the fragile glass of the second floor bedroom window, coinciding with the powerful pouring raindrops pounding furiously on the solid tin-coated roof of the large antique building.
I watch myself lay tossing and turning beneath the sheets that lay gently caressed every inch of my body like a woman of the night.
Unable to dismiss the desires of my body, every drop of perspiration slid slickly down my neck into the puddle now forming on my chest.
My imagination making me leap from scenario to scenario, flipping through my mind, causing me to moan uncontrollably with convincing passion of what was happening.
Every rumble of thunder and flash of luminescent lightning matched the energy of my actions caused by the trepidation of my wanted, but at the same time unwanted, visitor.
At a never before peak, reaching new levels of temptation, I let the emotion flood from my body in waves, felt only before in circumstances of pure, self-induced pleasure. This visitor, one of a kind, relentlessly attacking the simple, gentle mind of the victim, leaving an everlasting imprint on the body as final adjustments are made and goodbyes are welcome.
…my eyes open to the scene of the newly soaked sheets that caressed every inch of my body that was once a pure soul but was now tainted by the desire of a tainted imagination.
Anthony
Staring out the window of the worn-out van, thoughts of a sibling, a best friend, lying motionless, broken, in the comfort of a hospital bed, surrounded by the sound of pain and misery flooding the wretched building.
Tears forming at the corners of my swollen eyes cause the immediate action of wiping them away.
I was mourning the loss of my father and the near death experience of my older brother, Matthew, in the arms of our heartbroken mother.
My phone rang, wanting to be answered, but unable to be touched, so it stayed unanswered.
The pain of losing half of my once happy family leads to unbearable thoughts of taking what I had now and leaving the world behind, but the strength needed to perform this task is left unfound, keeping me alive. For now.
Jason
Everyday laughter filled the Victorian home of my, always joyful, family that happily counted the days until the end of the holiday season and the start of the New Year.
But not now. The flames of the fireplace invisibly warm the hearts of my entire family as they lay nestled in the confines of their beds and sleep, except me.
I lay wide awake staring intensely at my bare ceiling. The subject of my thoughts being deep, and unbelievably confusing; why am I what I am? My heart fluttered with this thought. Why do I like who I like? My heart pounded roughly with that thought. The thought of being with the man I loved. I shivered as I thought of him, and quietly wondered if he was thinking of me too as I rolled over and closed my eyes for the first time that night.
Allison
'Voicemail', I thought to myself as I closed my phone.
This had been the fourth time I had called Anthony in the last twenty-four hours and every time I got his voicemail. His ridiculously childish voicemail.
'Heyy! You've reached my voicemail! Don't cry though! Just leave a message and I'll call you as soon as I can! Have a super duper day!'
But that was my problem. I wanted to cry every time I heard that voicemail.
That voicemail.
That voice.
How could THAT voice betray me?
That beautiful, harmonious voice.
It was only that one night with him but I felt a connection. A connection that I couldn't explain at all.
But everything had changed. There was only one thing to do. The test couldn't lie, and even if it could. It couldn't lie over and over. Not the six times I tested it.
Even if he did answer his phone, how would I tell him? What would I do? These were questions that I
asked myself but I didn't know the answers.
The lonely phone lay motionless by my bed, silent with no connection to the one it desired to connect to.
I lay quiet, whimpering, with my hand placed gently on my unchanged stomach, caressing his child.
Alana
The blood draining from the self inflicted wounds rushes to the floor with tremendous speed.
Pain for one, pleasure for the other.
The tainted spirit, once bright but now hell-bound, holding the weapon.
The destruction of life, the destruction of sanity, the destruction of a soul.
Something small can cause so much pain, but with every stroke and every strike of the child's hand, pleasure is made. The scars from my past match the scars on my arms, but the newest now the deepest.
The bruises, darker than usual, cover my arms and legs, covered by the dark loose material now soaked with the warm liquid that runs through my veins.
Laying, surrounded by silence, whimpering, finally in pain