Bitter Sweet
Chapter 1: Bitter
The howling wind echoed in the dark, empty streets of the alleyway. Dark clouds invaded the skies, tainting the clear horizon. A flash of white light illuminated the dark, overcast sky and a loud thundering cackle followed, announcing the arrival of the impending rain.
I shut my eyelids tight, tilted my head towards the sky and felt the first drop of tears fall onto my face. I stood there, rooted to the ground, for a good five minutes, feeling the cold trail of rain run down my skin. My white shirt clung onto my skin; the black mass of hair matted onto my forehead. I was drenched from head to toe, but still, I did not budge, allowing the cold liquid to pound mercilessly onto my skin and the searing coldness to embrace me.
A chilly wind swept by, ruffling the fallen autumn leaves, in a soft whisper. Four quiet but powerful words. A mind-blowing secret. I shivered slightly. The words were barely audible. But it was loud enough for me to hear - and feel the stinging sensation of the breeze biting into my skin.
You are not needed.
You are not needed.
You are NOT needed.
Blankly, I blinked as I allowed the taunting words to slowly sink in. Realization hit me. Hard. It was as if an invisible force had hit me in the gut and made my legs go weak. And the next thing I knew, I was on my knees.
My fingers dug into my palm as I felt the coppery liquid escaping from my veins. I felt the unwanted tears well up in my eyes, threatening to fall. But I forced back the suppressed tears that blurred my vision. That threatened to shatter the porcelain mask. My mask.
It would have been so easy to just let go and break free of that brittle facade that I had took so much pains to build.
But I was not about to give in.
And I was not about to admit it.
That unmistakable truth.
That it -
... it hurt.
It still does. After two long, tormenting years.
I had lived everyday in misery and dread. And longing. For me, time seemed to be at a stand still. Every minute seemed like an hour, every hour seemed like a day, every day seemed like a month. And everyday is just a mundane routine of boredom when I supposedly savour the role of being a bully, a gangster. Someone tough. Someone who was needed. That no one dared to go against. That everyone would be at his feet whether they liked it or not. Someone whom no one could hurt.
No one could hurt?
I almost laughed at the bitter irony of the statement. Sure, I was tough physically. I could rough up a few good-for-nothings and have a few useless bums worshipping the ground that I walk on. But that wasn't the respect that I wanted, unfortunately. However, that was probably the only kind of respect that I would ever get. And I had to be contented, even though I know that probably would never have sufficed. Because - because I wanted something else, something so much more than that. And that was the only thing that I probably ever wanted. The only thing. That one single thing. Even after so long, I refuse to even admit what it is. Because it was the only thing that could penetrate my defenses and - and hurt me. And my pride wouldn't let me.
Pride. Yes, that's what this is all about.
I hated it and yet, I protected it.
It was the only damn thing that got in the way.
It was a simple thing and yet such a manipulative thing.
It deceived me. But I let myself be led on.
It made me twice the arrogant bastard that I am and even more self-conscious than before. It made cold, hard and unfeeling and yet, it made me hurt twice as bad. But I concealed it well enough and took it well enough - I took it out on someone else. Some arrogant jerk who thinks he's all that when he's not, and I made him believe he's not. Some foolish asshole who needed help wiping off that cheesy smile plastered on his face, so I helped him. Someone or anyone who felt joy and laughter from it, and I wasn't about to let them feel it. Because I was deprived of it.
And it was then that I vowed never to be hurt; never to let anyone hurt me. And never to cry again. I kept to my promise most of the time, but somehow, the pain and misery had always managed to slip past my defenses and break me up. But I swore never to cry again. That's the least I could do. And I wouldn't break that promise. Even if it is to myself.
The thundering cackle rumbled in the distance, snapping me out of my reverie. And the rain continued to pound relentlessly onto the ground. It was a little contradicting as I watched the small droplets break into smaller fragments when it came into contact with the ground. Just like glass fragments. Fragile.
I grunted as I picked myself up unsteadily from the ground. The crimson red from my palm staining the ground. Wearily, I staggered my way towards my motorbike. It would have been dangerous to ride now, as the rain did not seem to stop. If anything, it continued to pound even more heavily than before. But it didn't matter. Nothing matters now.