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I USED TO FEAR THE SUN, almost as much as I feared what lay in the dark. I knew it brought forward something I did not want; another day.
I had lost who I was among the thick branches, and viridescent evergreens coating the remnants of what once was so dearly, my home — Georgia. After each layer of skin had either been shed or ripped from me, I was left raw and obliterated. Exposed to totality as none different than those dead of which walked among my homeland. I was the same. A kindred spirit, with the monsters. Our souls clung to whatever subconscious left in our bodies, begging to be set free. Wanting mercy for the pain we had endured each day.
That was what brought me to the everlasting fear. The aureated golden warmth trickling through the skyline, filling the airspace with light. The oncoming hours. It spoke to me, and it whispered silent nothings. The quiet breeze in the morning — it told me that loneliness would follow until the day my heart would succumb in my chest. Internally, I was already aware. The wind did not need to say so. My essence was corrupt. I brought forth an everlasting force of death, magnetizing itself to anyone who neared me. The sun planting itself just above reach; it said that I would never find peace in my lifetime — not even in the heavens, for the chance that there was one. I did not deserve it, but instead had earned my place down here, set to rot in the sins of eternity. Each day was a recurring reminder in this regard.
In this mundane world, I felt homesick without having to part from home. I began spending my hours missing what I had before it was even gone, just so that the pain of losing it would be much lessened. The only thing I found to ever grow to fear was myself. What I grew capable of, and whatever I was not capable of. The white and black between morality became so blurred that I had been roaming in a vast place of grey possibility for a long while. When one did not have something left to be deprived of, they simply stopped fighting. It was easier that way; to not try.
That was why it was so simple to take the extended hand which Brian had offered that scared girl I once was. Covered in blood and dirt, lost, and a starving pulsation inside of me. Brought in with the promise of food, water, and complete stability, I was his to keep. A trigger finger, when the time came that he would charge the prison. We both wanted something, and the other had given word to provide for that need.
