Black Roses {Skephalo}

Notes Of A Flower Boy [Day Thirteen]

Note:
The next few chapters will be a little confusing. Bear with me here...
'Notes of a flower boy' are important. They are all Zak's POV. They still have the day beside them.
They're a lot shorter, around 700 words. Split into a few parts.
There aren't any author's notes on them either to keep it more in-the-scene.
Love ya <3   ~ Owl

————— 18 days remaining —————

E̶̹̰̻͔̪͍̟̹͓͍͔̒͐͐̚͠Ȑ̶̫̬͍͇̖̝͙̳͓̣͜R̴̢̘͔̺͕͎͂̎̌̿̒͌͊̆̀͒̎͘͝Ǫ̵̡̪͍̤̻̮̇̓̎͠R̴͈̘̻̥̈́̋̊͊̌̓͑͊͘̚̚
̷̡̪̰̙̗̯̼̆̀̈͋͜
̶̡̣͕͖̤̲̫̣̼̲͕̈́̅́͆͊͛͐͊͐̉͝͝S̸̢̧̤̙̗̭͙̦̼̝͔͈̙̓̌̿͛͂̂ţ̷͕̯̪̊̈́͋̈̅̍̇̃̉̚͜â̵̡̹͍̬̝̌̂̎͐͝͠ť̵̛͇̩̩͑́̈́u̵̢̢͔͓̦̯̠͖̲̭̿̽͊͘͜s̴̰͙̼̭̊̍̊̾̇͊͆͂͊̑̕e̵͕͈͠s̸̳̯͕̗̃̉́̽̕͘ͅͅ ̶̨̻̲͎̝̩̲̬̱̦͕͑͑̐͊̾̏͘͝ŗ̶̯͙̎̍̑̊̌̌́͌͋̐̀͝ę̷̲͉͓̲̰͍͕͉̈v̸̨͚͚̗̺̲̙̇͂̐̒̏͘̚͜ǫ̴̫̳̞͕̈́k̶͇͎̐̌̓̈̓̇̐̓͋̃̊͂̅e̵̢͉͖̮̳̺̩͉̪̐̂̀̿͌͆͛͜d̴̢̛̛̘̫̖̪̳͚͔̹͎̱̮̓̊̐̄́̍̊͆̀̈͜͝.̵̨͕̝̮̗͐́̄̀̈́̍̾̈́͗̚͝͠ͅ ̵̮̦͚̤͈̺̬̺̞̤̜̭̃͛͌͘
̷͔̝͇͖̍̀̌
̴̜̉͋͑̂̋̐̆̕͝L̷̛͖̰̆̉̚o̸̧͓̯͔̲̝͉̣̩̼̾̃̎̈́a̸͖͓͌̌͊̎́͊̀̏̕͝d̴̡̰͉͕͙̲̮̰̞͎̝̞̆̂͋̉̚͝͝i̶̛̟̮̬͇̣͌̄͌̍̌̈́͐̽͗̐͘͜n̷̟͔̲̾̃̐͜͝͠ĝ̸̳̻͍͓͛͛̊̚͝ ̷̫͈̞̣͛̈́͒̀̈́̐͗̀̕͠͝ņ̶͇̖̩͙̗͈̟̙̭̈́̌̒e̷͙͎̘͚͋͜ͅw̷̨͉̲̻͖̩̑̀̈̕ ̴̢̨̝̩͎͈̲̩̖̹̼͍̦͐͋s̸̮̣͗͛ṱ̷̨̰̻̮̯̻̼͖͔̥̟̏ä̸̭̙̣́͋̐̌̉͐̿̃̓̕̕̕͝t̸̟̜̹͓̼̣͔̬͗̈́͛̌ŭ̷̧͎̦̭͓͎͔̮̞̤͌͐͆̽̐̾̒̒̒͜s̵̡̧̫̥̘̣̯͎̤̓͒͗͛̎̐̉́̋͋͝͝ͅ.̴̝͚̫̫̄̋̓̔͛̓.̸̢͓̲͖̪͎̮̔͒̾̀.̷̡͔̫̈́̾̈́̑̍̄́̐̈́̀͑̚͜͝
̸̨͙̜͈͔̰͉͉̹̠͉̏
̷̧̬͈͕̗̟̣͚̱͎̉͐̽́̕͠Ş̵͙̩͕͌̈̃̊̔͌̈́̓́̈́͂͂ṭ̸̢͓̹̜̙̱͕͍̋̔͋̀͋͌͌͘͝ͅǎ̷͔̭̤̩͓̮̜̠̺̠̪̱͑̀͒͜ţ̵͇̊̾͂̈́͐̿͌͌̐̌͂͠u̵̮͕̹̘͉̯̯̇͒̚͝s̶͇͉̞̗͊͛̃͝͝ ̷̨̟̈́̿̅͑̈́̈́́͛̀̂̈͒̚l̴͉̖̝̘͕͓͋͋͋͛̈̎̈̃̀̅͋͜͝o̸̰̺̜̓̋̕ạ̴̞̹͍̯͎̥̦̻͈͈̈́͒͐͛̈́̐͛͝d̶̨̮͎̬̩͎̣̳͖̫̮̳̈́̐̉̆ ̶̛͓̈́̋̑͆̉͐̀u̶̢̙̫̝̫͔͚̜͋͛̒͐̏͑͒͜͝͝n̷͕̈́̋̃̀s̷̲̋̈͋̽͝ù̷͎̋̂̃͂̓̑̏͆̌͑͐̆c̶̨̛̝̭͎̘͙̮͚͒̈̅̇̓̔̈́́͂̒͘͜͝c̶͖̱͑̊e̸̹̖̘̟̳̱͍͝s̷͚͙͗͒͆͋̓́̈́̾̊̉ș̴̹̗̫͓͗́̄̈́͆̌f̸͈͙͇͇̬͌̀̀̑̃̾͘͜͜u̸̢͚̩̞̳̪͎͉̯̼̯̞͐͆̕ͅl̵̡͉̝͎͙̦̰̬̔̓.̷̩̫̮̒͛̃́̈́̃̉̂̚͝
̵̞̹̟͙͕̎͌͋̒̄̈́̈́͐̈́̈́͘̕͝
̴͆̿͐̓̂̒̾͗͂̕͜͠͝Ę̶̨͓͇͈͒̈́͆̑̈́͝ͅR̶̢̟̙̠͉̪̉R̶̡̪̺͍͉͊͛͊̌͛͘Ö̸̧̤̮̘̭̲̜̼̗̥́Ȓ̶̗̖̜̣́́̎̐̉͛

~~~

The demon visits me again in my dreams.

That's their name now. That's all they've ever been.

They remain in one form. A girl. Fourteen. The creator of this disaster.

I laugh. It reminds me of you.

Of a simpler time, when we didn't know who we were. When there were no flowers.

Even without the flowers, the pain was still there.

It always was.

To think we'd be rid of it would be a lie. If nothing, it helped me, helped me to see your face again before I fade away.

Before I suffocate.

There's pain. They told me there would be, but it hurts less here. There's less feeling here.

Less feeling without you.

The river is silent without you on the other side. Your notebook remains, but you're not with it.

It laughs at me. Laughs at my weakness, knows I'm not worth it. Laughs that I have you now, and it doesn't.

It comes to me. It comes to me to reside with my own book. They fade black, taunting me. Taunting my flowers.

They taunt us.

I throw them, I grab them and throw them into the water below. They sink to the bottom, their glowing light fading with them. The fires have been put out.

It's safe now.

~~~

Then there's you.

You break through the dark curtains, basking me in sunlight. The rays dance across my pale skin, neglected of all colour.

There's others here. They don't reflect the light. They're engulfed in the darkness, the darkness you try to save me from. They don't speak our language, they don't understand.

They try to help, try to clutch at life within me. Their fingers run through air. There's nothing here.

They can't save me.

Your words are cryptic, messed up, like I'm listening underwater. But you don't need words.

You're special.

Your light envelopes me in your embrace. It's safe here. The world is grey, all except you. You'd never be grey.

You're different.

Then you're gone.

The figures take me away from you. Your light glows brightly, burning visions if you in my memories. You try to save me.

They don't listen. It's cold here.

Come back, please...

I miss your light.

                                    ~~~

The demon returns. They laugh at me, needle-sharp teeth as they loom before me. Their smile is clueless, unforgiving. They don't help me.

Not like you do.

Sirens blare, drowning out the city. I'm there with you, but I'm not. The demon holds me captive here, just out of reality. They don't make sense. They don't help me.

Then you're back. Your light glows beside me. The figures appear, casting their ominous shadows over my broken figure. Their smiles are fake, practiced over centuries. It's easy to fake a smile when you've been doing it for a while.

They try to tell you they can help. They're wrong.

But you listen. You won't take them away from me. They're useless, clueless. They don't know what happens here. Their medical degrees can't fix all nightmares.

You won't help me.

They try. They try to convince you they try. And you try to listen. You try to copy their smiles, but you can't. You can't lie, you never could. You can't wear the same masks they do.

And that's ok.

Because you're not them. You can help me, you just don't know it. I don't know how. But you can, and you aren't.

I hate you.

I love it.

I hate it.

I love you.