XIX

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(OFFICIAL TRAILER UP ABOVE)

Sadness is hating someone you once loved.

"Take a green one before bed, the blue one with each meal, and a pink one in the morning." The good doctor smiles,  looking down at little Paradise. Parker stands by her side, a warm had on her cold shoulder.

"And these pills. They'll make her happy?" Parker asks, eyeing the array of Technicolor drugs.

"You don't make people happy son, you give them the ability to choose to be happy by regulating the dopamine levels in the brain." the doctor sighs, placing the pills in Parker's empty hand.

"Layman's terms sir?" Parker asks, confused.

"I'll have to work at it. Some people have to try to be happy, maybe you'll never fully understand, but happiness doesn't come naturally to most people." Paradise seeths angrily.

Parker found it hard to be angry back.

Any emotion she showed that wasn't sadness was welcome to him.

Even frustration.

Even Anger.

Even Hatred.

It's sad really, how something that once made someone love you.

Made someone fall for you.

Made someone feel like they would
die for you.

Makes them hate you.

Makes them walk away from you.

Makes them feel like they are dying when they're with you.

The knowledge that someone can love you for something, and then that same something can make them hate you... Is heartbreaking.

And if anyone knows heartbreak. Its Paradise.

Paradise was no longer an ellaborate ruse of large shirts and baggy pants and long sleeves rubbing against new cuts and playing with sickly looking greenish mashed potatoes and lying on the cold, dirty, cracked linoleum floor in a puddle of her own tears. And angry red slashes on wrists, and the sadness that was held in each of the purple bruises that littered her perfectly imperfect face and icey blue eyes that reminded a certain boy of frozen lakes and clear skies, and dark circles under those eyes that were cold, but not hateful, with words that were a symphony of melody and beautiful harmony.

She would always be the girl who's father was an angry drunken junkie liar, and though he was a terrible father and a horrible human being, Paradise was a daddy's girl.

She was still just a depressed, stressed, hot mess, who enjoyed the burn of alcohol in her throat and the feeling of numbness that came with it, but hated hangovers.

But now something had changed.

Something big.

She hated Parker.

His warm brown eyes now remind her of being ignored and tearful goodbyes.

She hates the boy that looks like kindness, but smells of cigarettes and mistakes.

She hates that voice that is sweet and silky, but sounds of deceit.

His blonde curls are unruly and untamed, sweeping over his pale forehead, giving him a boyish look, but Paradise is not fooled. He looks like kindness, but smells of cigarettes and mistakes.

He was nothing more then the boy with the brown eyes that once reminded her of hot chocolate and warm mahogany fires that burn a little too bright.

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