Solitude

A Solitary Rememberance

Alexander King

Since my mum died I had separated myself from people. The only people I loved were my family. I cut myself out of the world, truly hating anyone that tried to get close to me.

I lost a part of myself when my mum died.

When I became CEO of King Industries, taking over from my dad, that hate only increased. I realised people only wanted to get close to me because of my power, fame and money. They were using me. They were gold diggers, selfish and fake.

The ice in my heart caused by mums death only spread when I became CEO, the ice spread across my body like a glacier. I was cold hearted, rude, mean and any other negative adjective and verb.

My employees were afraid of me, rightfully so, and I was seen as a cold-hearted monster who made people cry. I was happy with that description, I was proud.

That was until Zeus ran off and started sniffing a small brown and white dog who barely reached his upper thigh and a tiny, brown haired woman with the innocence of a child and the beauty of a goddess but a mouth of an annoying girl who couldn't stop herself from constantly riling me up and asking nosy questions.

That woman was like me, she knew the pain losing a mother installed on your life and she didn't know who I was. She didn't see me as Alexander King, she knew Alex.

This woman loved her dog more than anyone else on the planet. She spent the majority of her life indoors and alone, with no one but her Cocker Spaniel, who was the smartest dog I had ever met. She was ordinary, someone you might walk past and not even notice but when you do notice her, you ask yourself how could you not have noticed her before?

Her anxiety ruled her life. The first time we went on a walk together purposely, she had an anxiety attack. I froze, not knowing what to do or what to say but her dog didn't. As soon as he looked back and saw her hyperventilating on the floor he ran to her, he calmed her and saved her.

As I spent time with her I realised she wasn't the stupid and and annoying girl I thought her to be at first meeting. She was smart, wise, inquisitive, kind, caring when she had no reason to be. She saw the good in people, she saw the good in me. She was the best of humanity and she changed my life.

But then I ruined it. I reverted back to my old self and charged at her without letting her explain. I was living through the pain of losing my best friend and the love of my life but this was so much worse than I could ever have imagined. It was like being shot in the head but the bullet didn't kill me. I was in constant pain, writhing in agony. I lost the love of my life but she was still in front of me, just not knowing who I was.

It was torture. Absolute and agonising torture.

I knew I deserved it though. I caused her pain so this was mine.

"I don't know why we're doing this. It seems stupid." She complained again, her voice whiny and her lips set in a pout.

"It's your birthday." I answer simply, fighting the urge to kiss her pout away.

She huffs. "I don't celebrate my birthday."

I know because you're dad was an alcoholic and abusive prick who didn't let you live your life.