This isn’t some happy love story. If you want that, try something else. No, I own this nightmare and would have never guessed it could have happened to me.
My life is painstakingly puzzled out. And if I have to admit it, I fall for Red the first time I see her. In fact, she is the first of many things for me and maybe my last. She is the reflection of my happiness and the beginning to my end. She is the stain that covers my heart in the color of her blood-red hair.
Thoughts of her consume me and continue to bombard my mind like ricochet gunfire. So what can possibly go wrong, you wonder? A humorous chuckle escapes me, in case you didn’t hear it. Yeah, I can tell you, but you will judge me unfairly. This you need to hear from the beginning, so you know all the facts and feel what I felt. Maybe even sympathize and not give me your scorn. Then maybe you can possibly… possibly comprehend the enormity of my crossroads.
You have to know I never planned or meant for any of this. It isn’t my fault. It’s someone else’s sins that have efficiently destroyed my life in one fell swoop. My name?
My name is Tade Astor and happiness for me is insurmountable.
A riptide of emotions clamped down on my throat rendering me unable to speak. I wanted to reach for Reagan’s hand before I let my own fall away. Stunned, I’d been unable to do anything but stare at the mouths that had continued to speak. However, the ringing in my ear prevented me from hearing a coherent word.
A single ember burned a chasm down my cheek. The blazing hot tear was as unfamiliar as it was appropriate given the situation. My world had burned to ash with the things said and not said in that room.
I felt like a foreigner while the walls moved in on me like a house of card ready to fall. Claustrophobia had set in and finally I faced the woman behind me.
“Don’t,” I said, watching Reagan’s horror. She gazed at me like I was a monster. The stranger reflected in her eyes wasn’t me. “Please.” It was almost pathetic how I pleaded. How the mighty had fallen. I felt their pity and scorned them for it.
One woman had made me weak and I hated it and didn’t care all at the same time. She was it for me. If somehow they succeeded in poisoning her with their blasphemy, I would live my life a lonely and broken man. No way could I survive without her.
About the author:
T.E. White resides in New Jersey and is avid reader who spends stolen moments in time writing stories that will possible shock you, but hopefully in a good way. Writing isn’t a new dream and something T.E. White has been compelled to do. The ultimate goal is to entertain you and create provocative thoughts in your head. The fantasy is to create stories you love. Hopefully all will be achieved. When not writing, T.E. White can be found daydreaming about new stories, watching fantastic TV shows/movies, or spending time with family.
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