Ronnie Miller-Esperanza, finally in his final year of school. He's tired through each day, bearing the scars of a past life, but he hides them well. Always clad in full black, he tries his best to avoid human interaction, and though the eyepatch on his left eye is always a conversation starter, his nonchalant demeanor has been effective in dwarfing any intrigue it produces. He maintains an average grade to avoid peaking anyone's interest, and his six foot 5 inch frame has helped him stay out of trouble.

Broken as they are, he can't wait to finally spread his wings and be free from the clutches of the Esperanzas, a colorful bunch that unfortunately for him chose to adopt him. He doesn't despise them, in fact, the only thing he hates is that among them he ironically sticks out like a sore thumb. Reínaldo, a Cuban immigrant, met Carla, a naturalised native of Mexican ethnicity, at an 'Ibérico Americanos' event in Houston, and seem to have carried the energy from that night throughout their marriage. Struggling to have a child early on in their marriage, they decided to adopt, and Ronnie, still a child, roughly eight years of age, was the 'lucky' winner of that raffle. They went on to have twins two years later, Alex and Alexia, who were incontestably Reí and Carla's.

"It's your final year in school, the path you choose now might be the one you're stuck with for the rest of your life. You need to think about it," said Mrs. Anderson glibly as she handed journals to each student. "These should help you write down your thoughts, make it easier to make plans and the sort, make pros and cons lists or whatever. It's yours, use it wisely." As Ronnie looked at the red, leather bound book in his hand, it dawned on him how aimlessly he had wandered through life up to this point. He gave it no mind as he tossed it into his bag, to him it was just another waste of school resources.

'First day down, two hundred more to go' he thought to himself as he dragged himself home. As he reached for the shiny golden doorknob to finally call it a day, he let out a defeated sigh, fixed a crooked smirk onto his face and twisted it to let himself in. He was immediately greeted by the aroma of Carla's Pozole and 'Conga Pá Cerrar' by 'Havana D' Primera' blaring on the home theatre system.

"Junior, how was your first day as a senior?" Reí asked as he jumped out of his chair to greet Ronnie. He had taken to calling Ronnie Junior as a play on their names being translations of each other and it just stuck.

"There's my lil' pirate, oh wait no you're a senior now. Look at how big he's become." Carla chimed in as she lovingly rubbed his shoulders.

"Same old, same old, beginning of the end, eh?" Ronnie replied shrugging his shoulders.

"Junior! Junior! Can I get a piggy back ride? It's more fun because you're way up there!" beseeched Alexia.

"Can I wear your eyepatch? I wanna be a pirate too!" begged Alex.

"Please, please, please, please, please!" they pleaded incessantly.

"Okay, but only one minute, I have homework." Ronnie gave in as he got on one knee taking off the eyepatch.

"Yay!" they both shouted in chorus as Alexia jumped on Ronnie's back and Alex ran off with the eyepatch, forcing Ronnie to chase after him.

Finally upstairs in his room fifteen minutes later, dark and silent as he preferred it that way, he sat at his work desk on his rotating chair. He dropped his bag on the floor, letting out yet another defeated sigh and switched on the monitor on his personal computer, now the only source of light in his room.

Just then, his heart began to sink as he remembered why it all felt so painful. Through his left eye, the screen looked like a bloody scene, dripping like molasses in rhythm with his heart. He put on his eyepatch, this was the truth about reality he could never escape. As he searched through his bag, the first book he grabbed was that red, leather bound book. A book reminding him to reach back into his thoughts and feelings was the last thing he needed so he tossed it onto his bed. Leaning back into his chair, it became increasingly apparent to him just how alone he had chosen to be. He figured, with no one to be openly honest with, the book could help bridge that gap. He stared at it, in silence. The electricity flowing through the wires of his computer could be heard as he glared intensely at the book, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring in anger.

He picked it up, as well as a black gel pen from the jar adjacent to his monitor. He began.

'I've heard it said that stories could be understood as more real than life itself, lacking in the redundant repetition of the daily tasks the characters undertake, a lifetime of significant events concentrated into a span of hours, each action profoundly revelatory. Still, I'm never moved. It seems the level of depth at which these apparently marvelous spectacles take place are too shallow for me to be swayed. If anything, they just serve to stoke a flame of rage deep within me. A justified rage by any measure my heart has honestly searched for. Since this book here is mine, I choose this path. Is this an explosion? Is this the voice within me that has had to suffer the torture of being chained down, never to be expressed, unjustly, because I understand how futile letting it free would be? Perhaps. But following the logic above, maybe my story could move me. Let the words I put down quake me internally, rather than bounce around my head and drive me any further off the wavelength of sanity than I already silently am. Let me experience the beauty I once did when I was innocent. These words are from a deep pain. True art.

A story. About me, to me. There I sit in the audience, here I stand to narrate. An opening scene is in order.

Why not start where my eyes first opened, and I realized my existence? I don't know how old I was at this time, in fact I couldn't tell you how old I really am. My 'real parents' weren't exactly the most keen at keeping me, my being, in mind. They hadn't the basic understanding of parenting to begin with. These were elders around me, forces I had no option but to be subject to. This dawned upon me the day the man broke a liquor bottle on my face, or should I say the next day when I woke up to an empty motel room, giving me this memento on my left eye. The price I paid for existing as a cost. That's when I realized we were all just trying to survive. It's also the day I lost it. He must've broken something inside, loosened a tether I had to reality. Since that day, I've had vivid dreams, and hallucinations in my left eye when awake, but they were interesting to look at, more interesting than constantly worrying about when I'd have to duck and hide again. So I've never spoken up about it.

The first side character to stage, my birth mother, Gi. Maybe her name was Gia, we weren't around each other long enough for me to figure it out. I didn't even want to spend my time figuring it out, until it was too late. To paint her picture, she was short, loud, aggressive. Her hair was unkempt, clothes tarnished and her lips constantly dry. A crack addict. She sold her body to maintain her addiction when the child support money ran out, it was a special day when they'd pay up. I could tell how much it ticked her to watch me consume what she had worked for, but she fed me anyway. Maybe it was because it was her obligation, maybe she still wanted the child support money and this was only a financial sacrifice, but one thing I knew, I was yet to truly feel love.

As for the man, my father, I never really spent time with him, neither did I want to. He'd show up once in a while, roughly every 6 months, sometimes drunk, sometimes sober, always in the mood for violence. He was rough. A scruffy face, with eyes bloodshot with rage. A six foot frame similar to mine, but skeletal. His clothes were newer than Gi's, he had his ways of making money off the grid, which is probably why my mother's requests for child support modifications would never work, and sadly the reason why he'd end up at our door again and again. I was too young to understand this at the time, what I did understand the hard way though, was that I was never supposed to come in his crosshairs.

Let's go deeper though, let me set the even clearer picture of the scene, the one that was etched into my mind at that tender age. This eye dramatized the characters in this play well enough to do so.'

As soon as he jotted down those words, a striking pain spread from his left eye to the back of is head, as he grasped his eye instinctively. It was as though a barrier of glass had slowly cracked then shattered, letting out an overflow of mystical fluid, rife with dreams and thoughts better off forgotten, as Ronnie would think. He could physically feel these memories fill up the space in his head, it was all so real again. He acclimatised to the pain, letting the fire it stoked in his core course through his veins and into his hands. He could've used this surge of energy to scream or break something, at least it crossed his mind. Instead he took a deep breath, held a firmer grip on the leather bound book, took off the eye patch, and wrote.

'All I say here is true, articulations of a beaten bloodied soul, yearning for a sort of vengeance yet hopeless. This is true art. I define it this way to offer it the respect it truly deserves, an established significance from the rest, as a ruby of blood, representing the most genuine essence life has to offer.

As I said, I had vivid dreams. Ever since I woke up to no one in the motel room, my blood dried onto the sheets and in a rather confused state, I've been seeing characters. Characters real only to one eye, yet so true they test my understanding of reality. My first experience of this was when I started trying to remember what happened, and with the sense of increasing unease so came shadowy figures dashing across the room. It looked like a giant serpent contending with another creature that would claw at it. As unclear as they were, the one undeniable reality was that they emanated malevolence like a furnace. Frozen by these thoughts I balled up in bed and waited. All I wanted was change, something different from the torment of these figures. Drawing their attention would be certain death I thought, maybe that would've been better, but I knew I'd hate it to be drawn out and slow, being consumed by predators. But at last, the door creaked. This startled the shadows, driving them into corners of the room. Looking at the door wondering who it could be, relief flooding through my body of the kind I couldn't hide. Gi popped her head around the door,

"Lil Ron?" She half whispered. Looking around presumably for the man, checking if the coast was clear. This was the first time I honestly cherished her presence, something I didn't care to notice if she was aware of.

"Lil Ron, you alive?" She asked in disbelief approaching me. Just as I thought we were at least back to the norm, I noticed, she was accompanied by a little friend, a white rabbit. It looked so fuzzy yet timid, with its ears flattened, it made me feel like I wasn't the only one aware and terrified of the clashing shadows. I felt deeply connected to this animal I'd never met before. As I reached down to pet it Gi asked,

"What you doing?" Just then it faded right before my eyes too. I just looked at her, completely confused by what was happening around me. Had she not seen the friend she made vanish into thin air? She set the bag she had in her hand on the floor, sat down beside me and asked, in the sweetest voice I'd ever heard her produce,

"Is you a'ight, Lil Ron?" Maybe it sounded sweeter because of the horrors I had just faced, and I was back with a familiar face, but just as she said that, her friend popped her head out from behind her back again. To my recollection I had never felt this way before, comfortable. This comfort of course came to an end once she noticed the state of my eye. It was too costly to go to hospital so we made do with what we had, salt and water. Despite the scorching sensation I felt on my eye, I'll forever cherish that memory.

"I got some food," she said, searching through the bag. I wished she'd give me a second to breathe considering how wildly my eye seemed to be blaring, but I was starving too so...

"eat up."

As we sat on the bed eating take-out, 'Maury's' playing on the TV, I thought about what could've been happening. Why was I seeing things? Are they spirits, another dimension? I couldn't tell because they looked real, opaque. I looked down at my plate to see the little rabbit resting on my lap, between my food and my stomach. I couldn't feel her though. We'd grown so fond of each other in the little time we spent together, yet I couldn't tell whether she was even real. I figured she must have been a hallucination, connected to the others in some way, since she and I were the only ones aware of them. But something felt off about that conclusion, the one thing I bond to so profoundly is simply a fantasy? What type of fantasy leaves you balled up in terror for hours? I had her in my lap and I never wanted to let her go, ever. So I dedicated my soul to this 'fantasy', just as I did the real world. The abounding joy within me at the thought of keeping this rabbit forever felt amazing. It was the first time I made a choice I was happy with, a truly life changing choice. I was so excited, I felt I needed to share it with someone. Turning to look at Gi, I would've told her everything in that moment but she was already asleep, lightly snoring as she usually would, as though she were singing in her dreams. I looked back at this new little friend I made, so precious and tiny enough for me to almost completely cup in my scrawny hands, trusting me as though we'd known each other forever. I was glad.

That night I had a dream. A circular labyrinth, built of stone, beyond which nothing but a dark ominous forest resided. My perspective then zoomed deep into the centre above a little boy's head, he looked up and surprisingly had my face. My perspective then zoomed in further into his eyes and I could now look around through his first person perspective. I looked up to see the towering walls of the labyrinth and a starry night sky. It was quite cold. I looked around to see if there was anything to cover myself with. At the opposite side of the corridor I was in, right before it's opening was my new friend. She was sniffing around the ground looking for something. We made eye contact and I immediately ran to her. She started running towards me, until she suddenly stopped. She looked up behind me as her ears flattened, I could sense the fear in her eyes, something was wrong. I turned around to see the largest viper, swampy green in colour, almost as tall as the walls of the labyrinth, slowly slithering towards us. It probably found its way here from the forest. I ran to the rabbit and picked her up, it was no place for us to figure out whether or not it was friendly. We ran through the opening to the right and found a junction at the end of the stretch with two openings. We took the left one and followed it down two more left turns only to find out it was a dead end. We waited there in silence for our impending demise, each second slower than the last. I sat down in the corner, with her in my arms, and I could feel her. It must've been then when I realized I was dreaming and woke up.

By this time Gi had already left, probably out 'working' again, sadly the little rabbit had gone too. I didn't want to sleep and encounter the viper again, but I also loved being able to pet her in my dreams. I sat on the fence about it and just waited to feel exhausted again. Night time came, so did the drowsiness, and so did my venture into the dream realm begin. I was at the same spot, my friend in my hands, still waiting. I pet her, believing these would be our last moments. She enjoyed it, but I could feel her sense of unease. I could've remained this way, in a corner, feeling slightly better, waiting for my time to come. But perhaps I was greedy. I knew she wouldn't leave me behind, she could've ran away at first sight of the viper but she waited. 'As defenseless as she was, she faced her deepest fear for my sake, and now here I am in a corner holding her, holding her back from seeking the peace she yearns for because I'm too scared to cross paths with the viper. Imagine how much more glorious a sensation it would be to hold her in true comfort. I'm shivering right now. If anything, she, at least, doesn't deserve this.' That's what the feelings said to me. Ever since that day, each night I slept, I dreamt of us running through the labyrinth, evading the viper, trying to ascertain the right path from the dead ends. I was lucid, but not in enough control to rocket myself out of the maze and straight into heaven. I ran though, with nothing but a dream within my dream.

Bound practically immobile in the real world I grew fond of sleeping, as my soul had squeezed itself into another realm where it found purpose, a heaven to aim for. I would grow on this adventure completely detached from this world, or so I thought.

One evening, Gi stormed through the door, her eye bruised. She seemed frustrated, displaying anger rooted in sadness. A customer probably didn't pay up, but the game she was playing was outside the boundaries of the law, where the only true rule, is that the powerful take. All she could do, really, when this would happen is smoke a cigarette, and hope it wouldn't happen next time. I also noticed the rabbit was nowhere to be seen. Had something happened to her? Had she decided to stay in the dream realm? Questions ran through my mind, as Gi frantically looked through cupboards and drawers. Gi looked up at me, radiating rage from her half teary eyes.

"Bitch! I know you ain't been touching my shit!" She shouted balling her fist into her palm. My silent confusion must've touched a nerve. She darted towards me.

"Talk to me when I'm talking to you! Where the fuck is my money at?" She screamed in my ear, pulling me by the upper arm. Just then, the viper I had spent two weeks evading in my sleep began to surface from behind her back, swaying its head side to side, with the same hostile intent I could sense off of Gi. It opened its mouth, wide enough to swallow me whole, with venom dripping off its fangs, spreading a scent of toxic, chemical death. I froze. Looking up at both Gi and the viper, my breaths felt as though they stopped at my nostrils.

Weirdly enough though, Gi's eyes softened, and the viper got sucked back into her back. She sat me on the bed, squatted to my level and asked,

"Did you take my twenty dollars?" Still trembling in fear, I would've told her anything she wanted to hear.

"Yeah..." I replied.

"What did you spend it on?" I could see her blood begin to boil again as she asked this.

"I don't know." Was there anything worth buying I could've told her I spent it on? To this day I don't know. She sighed. Part of me still believes it was because she knew I didn't steal it, but she had already overreacted.

"Don't do that shit again, now we don't got no food." She said in a calmer voice.

I wondered what it could've meant. Did the viper live in her back? Was her back the portal to the dream realm? Could that be why the little rabbit came from her back too? Could I get to the dream realm through her too? I spent the rest of the day piecing this string of thought together, a string of thought that eventually led me back to the dream realm. I came to in the dream realm on my feet, little rabbit in my arms and the viper on our tail. I held onto the little rabbit tighter, I thought I had lost her forever. It rubbed its head on my hands, almost as though it was reassuring me. I felt a surge of energy and ran my heart out. We turned the corner on the right and saw a straight path to the exit, the forest of uncertainty, looking like a death wish, at the end of the corridor, but it was finally here. The dream was becoming real, ironic as it sounds. We were on the final stretch, viper so hot on our heels I could lightly smell the hell it had to offer.

Right at the exit, I tripped on a rock, tossing the little rabbit of my arms and rolling a few metres. I looked at the rabbit, she was okay, her fur was slightly dirtied. The surprise though, was that the viper sat up, then slithered back into the labyrinth. Was that it's house? How did we end up there? Why would a serpent avoid a forest? The absurdity of the situation that sent questions racing through my mind was interrupted by even more interesting behaviour.

The rabbit was sniffing around walking towards something, making a path through the darkness.

I blindly followed her, ignoring all the anxious pressure of the lurking eyes of the predators I imagined. I was with her, and I'd do anything in my power to protect her, that's all that mattered. We came out at a river, where the full moon and the spectacular array of stars in the sky spread out, a marvelous sight free from the cover of the overbearing canopy in the forest. I sat down and crossed my legs. The little rabbit jumped on my lap and made itself cosy. I finally felt it, the glorious substance of a dream within a dream. She was at ease. 'She deserves it, she must be home.' I thought to myself.

"Yes she is," a woman spoke, "and she wouldn't be without you." I was slightly startled at first, but the voice was so angelic I could have listened to it on repeat. I turned around to see a woman that looked like one of the stars, descended from the heavens with a divine message. The material from which her dress was made looked unreal, it reflected the moonlight in such a magnificent gold and kept a dynamic wave motion as though it was fashioned from the river we sat down by, kissed by the afternoon sun. Her eyes sparkled like diamonds and looked through me, as though she was seeing more than me. Her smile looked so genuine, so comforting that it melted my heart, with a warmth that spread throughout my body letting me know everything was okay. She looked like the mother of all mankind. What I did to deserve this audience was beyond me.

"Your hearts brought you here." She said, responding to my thoughts.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I don't have a name. Few have met me and given me names to spread word about me. In truth, I possess, and nourish like water. I also send venturing hearts up this river."

I looked at the river from left to right. On the left, it continued on, descending with no end in sight. On the right, a continuous ascent to the apex of a giant mountain, upon which civilizations were built.

"Why?" I asked "What lies at the tip of the mountain?"

"Beauty." She responded, her eyes sparkling as she said it.

I looked down at the little rabbit, who paid no mind to the diety we were in the presence of, cosy in my lap without a care in the world. Looking at her I thought, 'I wish it was this way forever.'

"It already is," the diety said, as golden wings stretched out of its back, drawn from the waters of her garment forming a dome shape sheltering the three of us, filling me with the most euphoric sensation of comfort I had ever felt, "you just have to open your eyes."

"But my eyes are open." I said, forgetting which realm I was in.

"No, open your eyes." She said.

I woke up to Gi tightly grasping me, pulling me closer. A golden wing from her back, covering me, with love. It was then that I realized the creatures didn't live inside her back or appear when they felt like it. She was the creatures. The sensations of gratitude, love, joy and pain at the realisation that she loved me so deeply and that now I knew, were so intense I could've wailed in that moment. Instead my eyes welled up with tears driven from my core, and I cried by the bucket load, completely soaking my bedsheet. The love I felt in her clutch, knowing this was mine forever, only served to fuel the tears. I was twitching, maybe it was as an effect of the trauma I suffered, but if it meant sensations so pure feel so sweet, I was absolutely ready to offer my right eye as well. For once I could say I was her son, Gi was my mother. A dream I yearned for within a dream had now become as real as possible.'

A tear from his left eye hit the page, with a slight red pigmentation. He dabbed the drop with the end of his shirt, and sniffled, getting a faint hint of blood. He paid it no mind as he was too devoted to his art piece to have his attention swayed. He continued.

'I was not sure what lesson this cruel world had to teach me. Was it that dreams have no place in the real world? Was it that my fate was to be forever miserable? As far as i was concerned whoever was pulling the strings had just made the most sadistic joke I had ever heard.

I ran two weeks, for half an hour of euphoria, because in that same hour of joy, came the scent of alcohol. A scent that usually only meant one thing, chaos. He was right outside, waiting for something, probably on the phone. I woke Gi up, without saying a word she already knew what was going on.

"Get under the bed, you'll be a'ight Lil Ron." She reassured me, wiping a tear off my left cheek. I got under the bed facing the door and blocked my ears with my palms. Maybe i was tired of it all, maybe I was angry he disrupted our moment, but I know the fear I felt after getting a whiff of his aura was enough to convince me that I couldn't stand experiencing another fight between these two.

'Be careful what you wish for' was this cruel life's response to my actions.

Gi got up to go deal with the situation, readying herself to contend with all the impending violence. As she got up the situation got more intense. The moonlight had a red hue, and from how brightly it shone through the curtains you could tell it was a full moon. Out of a corner behind me I felt a dark presence. It moved around the bed right into my sights and began its formation. The thud of its thick muscular legs and its heavy claws hitting the wooden floor all made a familiar noise, its deep panting and smell of blood in its breath only helped confirm what I was seeing. Gi opened the door and left, leaving the door open letting the light from the bloody moon pierce the room. As Gi left, the creature followed, but it stopped, ducking its head to look under the bed. That day, I looked into the eyes of my mother's murderer. A black dire wolf, with yellow eyes that conveyed only a message of malicious intent. Tongue hanging out and slobbering all over the floor, it appeared to be smiling at me, as if it knew the sick work it was about to do. It slowly walked out after letting me know it was well aware of my presence.

It felt like 5 minutes passed before the deed was done. Two resounding gunshots, muffled as best as they could be by my palms, and my dream had become a nightmare. I waited, silently, hoping the obvious wasn't true. The silence was broken by those same beastly footsteps. It walked through the door, smelling like it had claimed a new victim, but this murder was out of spite, I knew this once it placed the little rabbit's corpse, chest ripped open, right in front of me, and walked out. The feelings of that day are vivid, how blurry my eyesight became, how muffled my hearing was. As I got up from under the bed and stumbled towards Gi's corpse, my heart sank lower and lower, step by step. A heartbreak like this I had never felt before. I didn't deserve any of this, but there it was. There it fucking was.'

He could now feel a pressure building behind his left eye. Like a faulty dam, he knew leaving it unchecked would create a mess to be dealt with later, but he had to pour his heart out to the fullest. That choice was made once he picked up the pen. He wrote,

'Everything I speak of is a true representation of life, the ugly side that characterises enough lives to deserve respect and attention especially when it can get worse, as it still did in my case. Dazed and confused I wandered off. No reason behind it, I just did it. Maybe I thought I could leave it all behind me, I couldn't tell you my thought process myself. Pitch black outside, barely any traffic on the road. Robbed, not only of all I ever wanted, but also of all I ever had, I stumbled on lifeless with no regard for anything in this hellhole.

I heard tires screech, looked to my left to see blaring headlights and seconds later I was on the ground. My right knee had dislocated. I looked at it really wondering what was going on. It didn't feel like pain exactly, just like a region of greater sensitivity. It felt icky. I had been expecting the driver to have stepped out of his vehicle, but he just poked his head out. He was saying something, but I could care less what he had to say, the fact that I lost everything, every single thing, on the same night I had spoken to a literal goddess was still on my mind. I physically couldn't walk further anymore. There were trashcans up ahead so I got up, hopped on my left leg and sat by them. I thought about the dream realm and how beautiful an experience I had there, as a winner, for once in my life. I was drowsy and exhausted, looking at the man and his car. The man had now stepped out of his car, had his hazard lights flashing and his car door was open. He was resting his arms on his hips just watching me. That was the last thing I remember seeing before dozing off, to be spat on by the dream realm as well.

'Nightmares are dreams too' must've been the theme of that nights dream. I came to by the river, now overseen by that fateful bloodshot moon. From behind me in the forest I heard a loud howl and I could tell exactly who it was. I looked behind me, atop a cliff, it was him, howling at the moon then looking directly at me. I jumped into the river and eagerly tried to swim across, I wouldn't let him take this away too. I looked back to see how far back he was, just to be reminded of the horrors of the real world. He had stepped on the little rabbit's head, she was wriggling, fighting for her life. I tried swimming back. 'How could I leave the most precious thing in my life so vulnerable?' I thought in that moment, a thought that echoed in my head as I watched him pin her down and bite a chunk out of her chest, and run off back into the woods. I got back to the riverbank and got out of the river as fast as I could. I looked at her, and my heart shattered. She was twitching, with her left lung missing I could see her tiny heart pump the last bits of blood it could. I watched the pulse die out. In that moment, even though I knew it'd break her heart as much as it did mine, I would have wished to have switched places as long as her golden heart would keep beating. I felt responsible for not being there to die in her stead, having already tasted heaven before. With the guilt came whispers, whispers that grew louder and louder. They made me feel uneasy. I looked around to see who would be out here making such an eerie sound at this moment. They just kept getting louder until eventually, in unison, they shrieked,

"It's your fault!"

I jolted out ofmy sleep in a frenzy.

"Easy, easy there buddy," said the driver in an attempt to cool me down, "where did all that come from?" He looked at me through the rear view mirror, with a smile, like he was stretching out his hand to me. I just looked out the window, nothing had changed, I was still in this hellhole, still with this crippling pain in my stomach that felt as though it was devouring itself. It must've been around 2pm. I had no idea where we were headed to, I could have been on a journey that promised nothing but torturous pain at this man's hands, but the idea of my death no longer sparked anxious unease within me, so the massive cornfields we drove past didn't intrigue me.

"Where are you from youngblood?" He asked, slowly lowering the volume of the radio to zero, that I had just noticed was playing once he lowered it. He seemed interested in this specifically. It didn't seem like casual talk to break the ice between us. A genuine question. I must have been trying to release this pain and use him as an outlet, because despite his honest interest in this info, my dismissive demeanor came naturally to me as I thought up the most null answer I could give him.

"I was born in a maze, in the middle of a dark forest, where a big snake lived, and where I made a little bunny friend, and the snake wanted us both dead." I replied, thinking 'he can do whatever he wants with that I guess'.

"Woah...that's really interesting." He said. To me, at the forefront of my mind, it seemed he was just trying to be kind to the kid he ran over, but a voice in the back of my mind wondered whether he really meant that. This drove my eyes, fueled by this pinch of curiosity, to the rear view mirror. Now looking at him through the corner of my eye, I was quite bewildered. His eyebrows were furrowed, as though he was deep in thought. Watching him mentally unpack what I had just given him I got a better glimpse of his face. It was riddled with tattoos and piercings. Though his coffee brown sunglasses slightly masked his eyes, I could still see the large 'REBEL' tattoo imprinted under his right eyelid. I then began to realise just how much of a character this man was. I had never seen a blonde man with such a rough look. It made me wonder what he did for a living. The energy to ask myself these questions spread to my stomach, feeding me a discomfort that reminded me that it didn't matter at all. I looked back out the window.

"Heh, my maze belonged to a giant chicken, who thought I was an egg." He said, breaking the silence, slightly chuckling.

Beyond his playful tone, it felt as though he understood what I said. He delivered back a witty response that couldn't work otherwise. The response tickled me, and the tiny jolt of energy trickled down to my right knee, making it sting as though it had just dislocated again. I looked at my legs, rested on the seat and covered in a large cotton jacket. I moved the cover off to look at my knee. It was fairly wrapped up in clean bandages, with planks of wood on either side to keep it stable. I was now completely perplexed, no idea what his gameplan was. Wasn't this the same man who didn't even want to step out of his vehicle watching me lie on the floor? Why was he taking care of me now?

"I'm going to ask a bizarre question." He said.

"What's that?" I asked.

"What's what?" He asked, peeking up at the rear view mirror to glance at me.

"Bizarre, what does that mean?" I asked. To this day I have never met anyone like him. The way he spoke, quite articulated and soft for someone with the aura of a brute.

"Oh, it just means weird, odd." He replied, looking at me through the rearview mirror, nodding reassuringly.

He stopped the car by the side of the road, nothing but cornfields and a long narrowing road in sight. Part of me thought this was it, the beginning of the end, while part of me wondered why he'd bother fixing me just to break me again. He turned in his seat to face me, looking back at me through the gap between the two front seats of his car. With the widest grin on his face, he asked,

"Are you a second half too?" I then looked into his eyes, I expected to see a menacing look, the type I had seen in the wolf. A predators gaze. Instead, I was utterly astonished to see the look of innocent awe in his eyes, like a child seeing a rainbow for the first time in their life. His face was glowing.

"Second half...of what?" I asked, now with a vested interest too. He just smiled, warmly, letting out a sigh.

"You'll figure it out someday kid," he said, turning back into his chair and starting up the car, "heck, it took me 30 years to figure it out. What's your name by the way?" I then realized he hadn't even asked my name, yet he seemed so interested in so much else about me.

"Lil' Ron" I replied.

"Cool name, I think Ronnie sounds cooler, I'm Johnny," his demeanor switching back to friendly, "I bet you must be starving Ronnie, just a few miles ahead we can stop and get some grub."

Sitting at a gas station diner, the spiritual torment of the loss I had just suffered had a firm grip on my stomach, like a chokehold so strong it would choke out any cries my stomach made out of hunger, making the burger and fries set out on the table before me smell like nothing but stale oil. It was now dark, enough to see the moon and the stark contrast between the two realities I was part of, intense red in my left eye versus the gloomy blue of the night sky in my right eye. I lay my head in my left hand, cupping my left eye, the emotions bubbling up from the memories of that fateful day that this eye had been so keen on reminding me of, were too immense for me to keep exposing myself too.

Looking down at the table, Johnny's hand slid into my peripheral. He lifted his hand revealing a bunch of sweets he had got me.

"I thought maybe you'd like a few, they're all butterscotch so, you're welcome." He said in a playful tone. I can remember the sensation of heat building inside me from the traumatic memories I had just gotten a taste of. My sadness had now turned into aggression, a switch I had no awareness was taking place, and now looking for an outlet I slowly fixed my gaze upon Johnny with the full combined magnitude of malevolence my wrath could muster.

"I mean...I could get you strawberry if you like?" He quite nervously replied. He had frozen, a drop of mayonnaise staining his cheek as he had now stopped ravaging through his food and was now looking at me with a concerned look. He was still trying to help me. He didn't deserve any of this. The guilt that struck me upon looking into his pitiful eyes, was effective, at squeezing the tears out of my heart. I broke down in front of this complete stranger. I looked back down at the table, my sleeves barely holding back this overflow, I watched the puddle forming on the table beneath me grow and grow. Fighting this unexpected flood, I didn't even notice he had sat up on my right beside me.

"It's okay buddy, let it out," Johnny said, rubbing my left shoulder, digging my head into his chest, "you'll come back stronger." Johnny made it worse. It felt like without saying a word I had told him everything. Watching my tears stain his black tank top I could feel the pressure from the choke my stomach had been subject to alleviate, as I realized, maybe this was what my heart yearned for, but what exactly was it yearning for? Clutching his tank top the relief I felt was enough to help me fall asleep.

"Is everything okay here?" A concerned waitress asked, snapping me out of my spiritual outpour. I can imagine the attention we must've drawn to ourselves. A man clad in the stereotypical biker gang outfit consoling a young black child who refused to eat his food with a broken leg. I looked up at her, a few feet away, waiting for the slightest signal to call for help.

"I'm okay." I said to both of them, using his tank top to wipe as much as I could off my face. Johnny tried to smile to ease her nerves, but the array of missing teeth and silver tooth replacements helped defeat the purpose. She kept a close eye on us for the rest of our stay. The pain in my right knee was now fully present, like the pressure on my heart and stomach had been driven to my knee, but most of all the red was gone. I noticed this as I read the label on one of the sweets. 'Top-notch butterscotch' it read, and that picture remains vivid in my mind as a time I was redeemed from hell.

That night I dreamt. I woke up by the river at roughly noon. The little rabbit's body was nowhere to be found. I sat up and looked into the river. Above my head a bright sun, whose reflection off the water surface slightly obscured my vision. Despite my hindered vision I noticed a certain peculiarity, my shaggy afro was a blatant red. I looked at it, playing with it I noticed it was slightly hot to the touch. Running my fingers through it I could feel sparks, as though I were about to start a fire, but my fingers weren't burning. An explosion up the river caught my attention. 'Could there be other people in this world? Could they know where the goddess was? Maybe she could bring me peace again?' I thought to myself, moving up the river to investigate.

At the alleged site where the explosion occurred I saw a shack. A small living area someone had built amongst the trees, far away from the rest of the civilization that had been built further up the river. Right outside it a man, carrying out swift meditative movements. He had lost an arm, right where his right elbow would be, but it didn't stop him from committing to his ritual like a prayer. Covered in bandages and his jean shorts quite tarnished I thought he might have been an outcast, a mad man ostracised by the rest. Whether or not they pushed him away, you'd need at least a certain level of madness to live in the middle of the forest meditating. I figured since I saw him, there'd be plenty more people, half as much of a risk, up ahead.

Unfortunately, my footsteps must have caught his attention, because three steps into continuing my uphill journey, I heard him speak.

"You! Red haired fellow. Aren't you quite a ways from home? What is it you seek?" He said.

"Don't worry about me, I'm just passing by." I replied.

"From where red boy? No man's home exists beyond this one," he said, motioning towards his shack with his left arm, "only beasts and spirits claim these territories. Do you seek The Essence of Manu as well?"

"No, don't mind me, I'll be on my way." I dismissively replied, hoping to continue my pursuit of the river goddess and put an end to his nonsensical ramblings.

Suddenly, he jumped across the fifty foot breadth of the river and landed right in front of me. I knew this was the dream world but I had assumed it was impossible to move this way while the viper chased me. I stomped on the ground and realized it was bouncy, which explained why when the rabbit and I fell over we weren't injured, just dirty.

"You're quite the interesting fellow, let's travel together." He said, now standing in my way.

"No." I replied, stepping off to the side to walk off.

"I can help you, no one else can navigate these forests like myself."

"I don't need your help, aren't you looking for Manu or something anyway?" I said still storming off.

"I am, and you intrigue me, you must be what the Appo was pointing at." He insisted.

Each second longer I kept resisting him annoyed me. He was so quick with his pleas as though that was the art he had dedicated himself to mastering. I decided to simply walk off, ignoring anything he had to say, but the next thing he said absolutely ticked me off. He grabbed my right hand from behind as I walked off, and said, in an eerily low tone,

"I can give you what you want."

'How could he?' is all I thought, and the longer I thought, I started asking myself 'how dare he?'.

Everything I had suffered through, conquered and lost, how dare he assume to know any of this? 'Why would you assume I'm merely looking for a fun adventure and that you can just involve yourself in my dealings despite my heavy, blatant opposition? How much clearer can I be? What do you take me for?', those are the articulations of the final emotions I felt before it was too much.

I looked down at my left hand. It was glowing red and had tiny hairlike projections coming off of it, they looked metallic and were shiny, barely longer than a grain of sand. My hand felt solid, heavy, unbreakable, unhurtable, almost lacking any sensation whatsoever. I recalled that my hair could generate sparks, and I experimented by running my hand through my hair once more. I couldn't believe my eyes. A red undying flame coated my hand. It didn't hurt. I crouched down by the river to try put it out, but the flame was so hot it evaporated any water it came into contact with. Still in this crouching position I realized what was happening again, this was the dream world, and a certain incessant manifestation wouldn't just let me be. I ran my right hand through my hair as well and turned back to face the mad man. He looked worried, only now sensing that he might have crossed a line. This only enraged me further, stoking the red flames with which my hands burned yearning for violence. I was going to show him the level of depth with which he should take my words.

I lunged at him, springing off the elastic floors characteristic of the dream world. The flames from my hands beating against the air as I rushed towards him sounded like wild chariots. I was going to peel the flesh off his bone for disrespecting me. I reached out with my right hand in an attempt to rip out his jugular, but he instinctively brought up his left hand and parried my attack. His hand felt slippery, but not like gel. It rather felt like a repulsive magnetic force kept our bodies sliding against each other. I rolled over and quickly turned back to see him. Even though our bodies hadn't made contact, the flame caught onto the bandages on his left hand. Without panic, with utmost grace, he planted his left foot on the ground, like a sumo wrestler, and took a deep breath. He then began to perform a ritualistic dance. To try and capture the visual I'll say, his movements flowed like a stream, but showed the force of a fully committed heart, in this capoeira choreography that seemed to produce its own enchanting music. As he spun and lifted his hand as if to offer the flame to the heavens, and as the flame turned into a golden orb of energy that slowly dissipated into the surrounding, it felt as though in that instance, I had watched a lotus flower blossom, a true embodiment of beauty. Something told me he didn't have to make it such an elaborate performance, he just wanted to open my eyes to it. That he did, and with it came the most complex emotion I had yet to experience. A perfect mix of overwhelming joy at what I had just experienced as well as the deep-seated pain of all the loss still on my mind. I felt goosebumps all over my arms and legs. On looking at my hairs closely though I realised, these were actually more tiny flammable projectiles growing on my skin. I then began to feel a growing impulse from my core that spread to the top of my head and excited the sparks from my hair loosening and lifting it, as though the lifeblood of the flames had been pulsed from its source.

I ripped the sleeves off of the shirt I was wearing. Now barefoot, in brown cargo shorts and a hand fashioned vest I was ready for battle. I crouched down, spreading the flames across my arms and legs, understanding that his dance must have been an invitation to unleash my worst.

I, with my hair flowing like a flame and my body coated in the red flames, crouched over like a predator, and he, mummified in bandages except for his blue jean shorts with his hand still lifted from his pirouette. In our makeshift battlegear, to any onlookers we must have appeared to be having a childish squabble, but the red glow emanating from me held the truth about just how deep the emotions tied to this battle were.

I looked at him, and with my eyes communicating the hell I wished to put him through, the smirk he cracked communicated one message, it was on.

I ran in and clawed at him, no punches pulled. I was so much faster and stronger in this world, each strike I threw accompanied by a gust of wind that shook the surrounding trees. I attacked him every which way, but he was too slippery and suave for me to land a hit. 'Does the dance make him untouchable? How could a rehearsed dance include preparation for random motion? Is he just that much faster?' I wondered, attacking more rapidly and randomly with each question, but he never failed to counter. Each missed blow only served to anger me further, which stoked the flames and increased the strength with which I threw each attack. I watched him. Even though it was just so I could land at least one eye poke, it was such a fascinating sight. It was perfect. No movement cut short or overshot to compensate for my unpredictable movements. I was now part of his show, but further than that, I was enjoying myself. It was like a conversation, where I let him experience the deepest essence of my soul, like I was crying for answers and he was eager to help me look for them. He hadn't attacked me once so it wasn't exactly a typical fight, but every inch of my being needed it. His movements were shorter, rhythmic and expended less energy, and though I bombarded him with the most chaotic flurry of red violence my heart could muster, intentionally or not, he used it all to warm that same heart, with a certain charm in his approach that communicated a concise message, 'I know'.

He was always two steps ahead, so I planned a final attack that would definitely land, or so I thought. I threw a haymaker and watched his head dip under it. This was part of my plan, what I hoped he didn't know however was that this was a fake to help build momentum for a left leg wheel kick. In a last-ditch attempt, I ducked my head, sliding my hands across the ground for some support and swung my leg at full force to try chop the side of his head with my left heel, a swing with such great weight that it sent a wave of red flames across its trajectory that completely chopped a few of the surrounding trees in half.

However, looking up hoping to see him finally shut up, there he was, right in front of my face sitting cross-legged. He tapped my head with the tip of his missing right arm and gave me a cheeky smile. The tap felt warm and kind, the type I had only experienced with Gi. 'He did know' I thought to myself, as the flames vanished and my hair and skin went back to normal. I felt relieved that I had found someone who understood. 'Could he actually know what I wanted?' I thought, before suddenly awakening back in Johnny's car.'

A half smile grew across Ronnie's face, as he walked through the memories he had with Johnny. For a second his stomach didn't feel so sour. This wasn't your regular piece of art however, and as the memories trickled back in, so came the soreness. Biting his lip, tapping the book with the back of his pen, revisiting the good old days only served to further wet his eyes. Nevertheless he had to continue, it wouldn't sit well with his soul to stop now.

'Johnny was, yes was, a spectacular soul. The type of person you only meet once in a lifetime. After nothing but years to think about what could've been, I believe that's how I would've at least started his eulogy. A genuine gem amongst the masses and the one man I could've called my father, he embodied exactly what my fate targeted to smite. I at times wished we'd never met, if it meant my touch could be so deadly, back when I truly believed I was specially chosen as 'he who was fated for hell'. Now I wish I had never been born, because I can't see why anyone would choose to come here if they truly opened their eyes to what was promised. I know deep down though, bittersweet as the memories are, I'd never get to experience and cherish this heart carved from gold.

Johnny and I, now venturing together, drove across the country, each day as spectacular as the last. I shelled off most of these memories because the torment was way too much to handle. He understood me so well, even as I rambled on about the dream world as though he had been there too. I remember asking him whether he was the man with the missing arm, and though he believed he wasn't, I know he was. For a year, we toured almost every state we stopped in, spending no more than a few weeks in each state and it was around this time I began to realize just how peculiar he was. He considered schools a waste of time and rather took it upon himslef to teach me all he knew. He was a complete night owl, sleeping as the sun came out, you'd rarely ever see him up before 2pm. He actually cherished the fact that we slept at different times so we could keep watch over each other, which gave me a vague idea of the type of business he was in.

I recall one day that stuck out to me as most peculiar of all. We were in a motel. I pulled out the map he had bought me to help me learn the states and spread it across the bed as he got ready to go take a shower.

"So now we're in...Flo-ri-da?" I asked, excited to finally be learning about where I was.

"That's right, Ronnie. Can you tell me where we just came from?" He asked.

"A-la-ba-ma?" I asked, quite certain I was wrong but I didn't want to embarrass myself too much.

"Nope. Try again buddy." He encouraged me.

"I don't know how to say it." I said, slightly disappointed in myself.

"Aw it's okay lil' buddy you got this," he said, taking off his shirt and crouching down to my level, "say it with me, Gi-or-gi-uh, Georgia"

"Gi-or-gi-uh." I said, smiling because I had finally got it down.

"There you go," he said, rubbing my back, "high five." He said raising his hand, but he faked me out.

"Still too slow though." He said, nodding disapprovingly. I punched his right shoulder as he stood up, playfully wincing in pain. As he walked away, stretching his shoulder pretending to relieve the pain, that was the first time I ever got to see his back. Riddled with cut and stab marks long healed, it was unsettling to see how much pain a loved one had gone through without my knowledge.

"What happened?" I asked, freezing him in his steps.

He took a second, placed his hands on his hips and turned his head to face me. He looked as though he was vetting me, assessing whether or not he should've told me this information. He sighed, as his demeanor switched to a more serious one. He crouched down next to me again.

"You see this tattoo," he said pointing towards the shoulder I hadn't yet demolished, "my friends and I were very bad people, we all shared this tattoo." It was a four leaf clover above two three leaf clovers, with the two categories separated by a line, and the whole piece enclosed within a triangle.

"Were you in a gang?" I said, still practising the new words I had learnt.

"Yeah, look at you learning your words." He said, smiling at me, lifting his hand for another high five. Tempting as it was, I squinted my eyes nodding disapprovingly, trying my hardest not to smile.

"Smart." He said, tapping his finger on his head.

"We were a gang," he continued, "the meanest, baddest there ever was. And we-"

"Baddest isn't a word." I interrupted monotonically like most annoying kids do.

"Okay sure, the worst gang out there. It doesn't sound as rough don't you think? Anyway, this tattoo was like our motto."

"Motto?"

"It's like, something you remember to keep yourself excited, a couple of words. Ours meant something like 'the blessed will always sit on the rest'."

"Like a king?" I asked.

"Yes, like a king." He responded, with his usual warm smile, but this time he tipped his head and looked down at the bed. I felt his aura change for a second. At that moment, he emanated hostility, finally fitting to his appearance, as though it was who he truly was. He rubbed his eyes, as if the memories resurfacing were far too stressful for him to handle. Still rubbing his eyes, he continued,

"We weren't too kind to each other, and they cut me off." Still with his head in his hand, rubbing his eyes, too ashamed to face me, I couldn't understand how he'd end up in a gang.

"Yeah, you're too nice," I said, "I'd kick you out of my bad guy gang too."

He slowly lifted his head, trying not to smile, as I felt his usual warm aura fill the room again.

"Oh really?" he said sarcastically, "and how bad do you think you'd get."

"We would be the baddest."

"Sure buddy." He said rolling his eyes, so I pretended to ball up a fist and recoil it, and watching him flinch solidified my point.

"Okay, I heard you big guy." He said, rubbing the top of my head.

I dreamt every night. Even though I was quite sure these were just repeats of what happened during the day, every choice I made felt lucid and proper, like I could never make a decision I wasn't satisfied with. Some dreams stuck out though, dreams I couldn't tie down to a specific event or day.

Most dreams were of the one armed man and I practising our meditative movements. He taught me the mechanics of the dream world. Not only was the ground bouncy, but so was the air, which you could grab and hold onto, or even fling yourself across the sky with. He wasn't the most helpful though, quite a lot of his answers were vague, never precise, but one thing rang true, it was that he seemed to be chasing a relic, a pursuit he committed his entire being towards. A pursuit he wished I would inherit. What exactly it was, where exactly I could find it, why I needed to find this curio, all questions I didn't get to ask, because in this world that robs the innocent of all they have, all it left me with was a memento within a dream.

"Red," he said, having grown fond of calling me that, despite the fact that I had lost the flames, "do you remember the first time we clashed?"

"Yeah, I'll never forget it. I will land a hit on you one day though." I replied, still a bit sore from my loss.

"That you might. If only you knew my secret," he said, looking at me through the corner of his eye, "would you like to know?" I was eager to learn how he predicted every single move of mine, in such a manner that it looked independent of my movement.

"Of course!" I sat up in bed. 'Was he really just going to tell me?' I thought to myself. He turned towards me in his chair.

"Okay," he took a deep breath, "heed what I say, for this is wisdom from the past, long forgotten, but truth each and every heart seeks, and truth each and every heart holds. This is the Myth of Manu the First Hero."

"Was he stronger than you?" I asked, completely captured by his introduction. He chuckled and then looked down for a moment. Slowly lifting his head up, drawing closer to me, and as his eyes widened, he whispered.

"You couldn't even imagine."

"Wow." I gasped in awe.

"Long time ago," he continued, "long before these civilizations were built, Manu would sing. His delightful voice drew all that could hear to him, as each tone he sang more than comforted the heart, it revitalised it. He sang songs so profound and true, crowds would form around him even just to experience a second of the glorious radiance he produced, but those at the back grew envious of those closest to him, and wishing to feel what it would be like to be part of the front row audience and experience the magnificence in its full splendour, they began to riot. Noticing this, Manu led the crowd to the top of that hill where he set stage, to radiate as much of his beauty to as many as possible. This set up worked, for years, as a civilization grew on the hill. One day, however, as he sang, at the farthest ends of the crowd he could hear an uproar brewing. Those at the back felt unfairly dispossessed of the privilege to live higher up the hill. This unease spread throughout the hill as more people started to wonder why they didn't live further up the hill. All hell broke loose, as they massacred each other for space closer to Manu. He cried out, heartbroken by the ugliness his heart's work had produced. He begged them to stop, crying out that if they had keenly listened to his songs they would know, the radiance they sought was always in their hearts to begin with, they just had to unlock it. He continued to cry out, trying to remind the masses of how to unlock it, but as he wept, they all, inuding my forefathers, brutalised each other and his wisdom fell on deaf ears. Looking down at his loved ones tearing each other apart for a chance to draw near him, he knew he couldn't abandon them and deny their lives of beauty entirely. In an attempt to share himself as equally as possible, while the rest continued to battle on, he balled himself up, and raised far up into the sky, shining with blinding radiance, moving across the sky to spread as much love as he could."

"The sun?" I asked, now sitting on the edge of the bed, astonished. He silently nodded.

"What happened to the people?" I asked.

"The battle went on for ages, slowly dying down to milder disagreements. The stage he would sit on had captured his essence and beautified the region closest to the top of the hill, and so they made rules to dictate who would live closest to it. Kings, emperors and dictators have sat atop that hill, while common folk worked their way up, some stealing, others corrupting. However, the beauty at the top depletes without the radiance Manu spread, and he's too far away to replenish it, but here's the important part. The key lies right here." He said, digging his index finger into my chest. I looked down at my chest.

"The...sun?" I asked, intrigued by the idea that it was somehow in my chest. He just smiled warmly, as if to say I'd get it someday.

"However," he continued, "a journey awaits you." He turned around and searched through his bag laying on the floor right next to him.

"You'll need this." He said, handing me a small wooden statuette. It was cylindrical, roughly six inches tall, three inches in diameter, with a rounded head like a bullet. The rounded head had tribal smiling faces on opposite sides, with wave-like spikes forming a border between the faces to mimic rays radiating from the head. It had two arms connected to the neck of the statuette, both shaped like the stout of a teapot, with one raised with the palm facing up, and the other lowered with the palm facing down. The arms could rotate about the neck freely.

"Woah! This is mine?" I said, excited to play with it.

"Easy there Red," he said, placing his hand on my shoulder, looking into my eyes, "this isn't a toy, okay? I found it stumbling through these forests, and now I pass it on to you, its called an Appo. A long time ago, a community that wished to be separated from the hill civilisation devoted themselves to trying to unlock the radiance within, they called that radiance The Essence of Manu. They fabricated this out of the wood from these forests and emptied as much radiance within it as they could before sealing it. The Appo is a compass, follow it."

I was fascinated by it. It looked spooky, almost like it was alive. I looked intently into its eyes, it felt as though it was calling me. As I lost myself in its eyes, I was suddenly snapped out of it.'

Ronnie looked up. His computer monitor still on, still acting as the sole light source in his room. He looked at the monitor, and for a second his left eye was not seeing red. The bloody theme had worn off as the artist had lost himself in his art piece. However, remembering the last words he jotted down, the red hue slowly crept back in. A pressure so great building behind his eye that his pulse would shake his vision. This couldn't last forever. His artwork was drawing near its end, and what a bloody end it sure was.

'"Ronnie, Ronnie get up." Johnny whispered, softly shaking me up. I rubbed my eyes and looked around. There was a man, clad like a priest, sitting by the door of the motel room we had rented. For the few weeks we had now spent in Texas, the same man would often show up at our door to talk to Johnny. I can still remember the look of horror on his face on this day though, as he clutched his black crossbody bag, a sign, one that aches each and every bone in my body for not taking it seriously.

"Sorry kiddo," Johnny said, "I know this is a bad time but, you and Paul here are gonna take a little trip to Subway, then I'll join you guys later."

"Can we go Hardees instead?" I asked, talking through my yawn. Never had he ever done this, another warning I will forever regret missing. He cupped my face in his hands, gently rubbing my cheeks with his thumbs.

"Sure, buddy."

The last words I'd ever hear him say. The teary eyes I could see behind his coffee brown tinted sunglasses should've spoken to me beyond his usual, warm, gentle, smile. It was unsettling. I could feel something was wrong. All I could think about, looking out the window as we drove down three blocks, was how unusual his behavior was. Sitting in Hardees, facing the priest, still in the dark about the plans fate had to stab me in the back one more time on a Tuesday night, I could see the pity in his eyes. On the edge of the table, right next to my left hand, the Appo, its arms spinning round and round.

"How do you know Johnny, Johnny Miller?" He asked.

"He's...my best friend," it didn't feel proper calling him just a friend, but I didn't know what else to call him, "yeah my best friend."

"How long have you known Johnny?" He asked, pulling out a piece of paper from a folder in his bag.

"A year, I think. We've been everywhere having fun so I don't know." I lay my head on my crossed arms on the table, the memories cheering me up in my response, swinging my feet out of joy. He cracked a smile, though his eyes still looked pitiful. I stopped swinging my feet.

"Where did you two meet?" He asked looking down at the paper. At this point I was starting to get worried, the arms on the Appo had started spinning rapidly.

"I don't know, he hit me with his car. He knows more about this stuff than I do, maybe you should ask him. He's coming soon right?" I asked. He froze, looking at the paper. We went silent for a moment. A silence so loud my ears begged for a response, but the silence was instead broken by a gulp. He looked me in the eyes, teary eyed himself, jaw clenched, with the straightest face he could hold. He reached out and grabbed my right forearm, and said,

"Don't worry kid, everything's gonna be al-" It was happening again, all sounds blurring out. I could see his mouth move, but I was getting dizzy, and it sounded like I was underwater. I turned my head to look at the Appo, with it's arms spinning uncontrollably, I began to hear a sound. It sounded like a sharpening blade, the blade fate was waiting to sink into my back. Each sharpen louder than the last, and with each sharpen the Appo's arms would spin even faster. I could feel Father Paul shake me, trying to catch my attention, but I couldn't care less, I was praying my nightmares were just dreams, but you see for me, dreams have always been as real as reality can get, so the response to my prayer was five resounding gunshots.

The arms abruptly stopped spinning, the lifted arm pointing towards the exit.

Still deaf to my surroundings, I ran. I ran home. I ran to the new safe haven I had built after watching my last one crumble to rubble. 'This can't happen twice' I thought, 'there's no way I'm caught up in this twice in a row'. Reality doesn't need to be bound by probabilities though, it's the other way around, and as usual, I was going to learn the hard way. I ran the whole way, fueled by nothing but heart as I approached the motel. Still deaf, I couldn't feel my legs and I was lightheaded on the brink of passing out. I stumbled right outside the doorway and fell on my face. I heard the door creak, as it slowly opened up. There he was, the angel of death. A giant, he must have been seven feet tall, ducked under the door stepping out. He stepped out with his back facing me. A long black trench coat, worn over his shoulders with his arms out of the sleeves, a black homburg hat on his head, and the stench of fresh blood on him. He turned back to look at me, still spread across the floor, and even though it wasn't him, I had only seen one other set of eyes produce such a concentrated beam of malevolence before. Those eyes, those were the ugly eyes I believed fate had set aside for me specifically to suffer victim to.

He wiped his face with his left forearm, got into his black Cadillac and started it. The windows were tinted, but I could make out a head in the back seat, Johnny really didn't have a chance. I got up and dragged my feet to the doorway. I knew what had happened, but the drop of hope in my heart, a product of wishful thinking perhaps, wouldn't be satisfied until I was certain. Well, there he was, face bloodied, five holes in his chest, in a pool of his own blood. I like to think I'd be okay if I hadn't seen it, but the sight of him clutching the map he bought me made me think that even in his final moments, he tried to find solace in the memories we had made. I fell to my knees and cried myself numb.'

Ronnie could feel the pain leaking back in, and with it the rage. Rage sourced from a pain so intense he could have ripped his art completely in half. He tried to bottle it up, but he could not cup all the leakage, as blood dripped out of his left eye and left nostril. He powered through it, even with the pressure built up in his chest forcing him to hold his breath or let out a roar, he gripped firmer onto the book and pen, what was on his heart was going to be said. As his blood splattered, staining the pages of his now heart piece, he wrote.

'And that's it. That's the story. No happy ending. Full of depth, true art will sway the heart, regardless. Furthermore, this is reality, and if you think this is horrible, no, it can get worse. I truly believed I was special, one chosen to go through hell, statistically speaking at least one person would have to, but it's too easy to look up and think you have it worst. The real world has dragged, and continues to drag, countless souls through hell worse than mine, and guess what you can do about it, nothing! I ask again, genuinely, why would anyone wish to live in this hell hole? I truly believe no one really does, no one who really thinks about it does, but they remain because of the strings they have attached. I know Reí, Carla, Alex and Alexia have yoked me by the neck, with a rope woven out of guilt, and tethered me to this realm I'd wish nothing on, but to watch rot and burn to ash, and though I choke daily, wishing for an end, I can never let reality get a win over them. I could never break their hearts like reality did mine. In this book where I speak of an ounce of the pain, a drop in an ocean of blood drawn from the victims of this world, isn't it fucking ironic? It's red. How fitting. I guess you could call this the color of my soul.'

He shut the book, lifted it and slammed it on his bed. Panting heavily, the masterpiece was finally done. Years of silent emotion, eating away at him from the inside, spoken. It was the first time he had looked back, the first time he got to hear what he truly felt, the first time he had felt emotions so deep in a while, all at once like an explosion, this was his art. His eyes welled up with tears, it was all too overwhelming. He wondered why he chose to silently carry all this pain. He felt some relief.

Suddenly, he heard a knock on his door.

"Junior," it was Carla, "did something happen? Are you okay?"

"Uh...yeah," he replied, rubbing his forehead. He had a slight headache setting in, "I just dropped some books." He could hear Carla sigh through the door.

"Is the light off?" She rhetorically asked.

"...yeah." He replied, defeated.

"Sweetie, I know you like to keep the lights off but you have to keep yourself safe, okay?" The concern in her voice almost tangible. "Also, dinner's almost ready."

"Okay cool, um...I ate a lot at lunch at school today so, I'm not really that hungry."

"Aw, okay I'll set some aside, I cooked the chicken the way you like. Goodnight sweetie, I love you." He smiled, the Esperanzas always had a way to lift his spirits.

"Goodnight, love you too." He replied.

He got up and went to the bathroom to try clean up his face. Rinsing off the blood and checking to see if anymore was left on his face, he noticed the red hue had disappeared from his left eye. The pain in his core was still there, slightly less but still very much there. He looked at himself in the mirror, finally able to see himself clearly for the first time in years. 'I was actually having fun', he thought to himself, leaning on the tap, looking into his eyes, 'but what was it worth?'

That night he dreamt. He was in a lair facing a giant faceless stone golem, hunched over with its legs crossed, with only a small opening at the top of the lair acting as the source of light. He had the one armed man's bag on his back and his hair was red again. It was the same dream he would have every day since Johnny died, and in his depressed state he would just face the golem.

"Still just me and you again, eh?" He said to the faceless golem. The book and what he wrote in it were still on his mind, the memories he made in this world, now just memories. He decided to look through the bag, maybe to find more to remember his teacher by. Reaching his hand into the bag, there was only one item, he didn't even have to remove it to know exactly what it was, the Appo. He pulled it out. It looked old, the wood looked brittle, as though being separated from the mainland of the dream world choked it of a certain essence it needed.

Suddenly the stone golem moved closer to him. This startled him as he scrambled to back-pedal away from it off the ground. A decade, he had spent, face to face with this giant lump of rock, and only today he found out it was alive. His heart was racing, there was no way to gauge the intent of a faceless object, he didn't know whether or not to be afraid of it. He stood up, and watching its head follow his movements, he froze in fear. The Appo slipped out of his hand, shattering as soon as it hit the ground, and the golem watched it fall. 'It wanted the Appo? Was it waiting all this time for me to give it to it?' He thought to himself, still keeping his eyes on the golem. He watched the golem begin to lift its left hand, still looking at the region where the Appo fell. He peeked down, trying to keep the golem in his sights, only to have his mind further blown away. A baby golem, this one completely golden with nothing but a wide mouth on its face. It was crawling around, smiling. It had hatched out of the Appo. It crawled up to Ronnie and wrapped its right arm around his left leg, reaching its left arm up at him as if to ask him to carry it. He found it oddly cute. He remembered seeing the other golem lift its hand, seeing it now having balled up a fist, it was going to smite the baby golem. That's when it dawned upon him, 'It wanted to destroy the Appo'.

"Noo!" He shouted, picking up the baby golem. They ran around the lair, with the rock golem on their tail dropping its fists trying to swat them. The floors here weren't elastic, neither was he able to ignite himself and fight back, so he ran, in a zig zag motion like he did as the viper chased him.

He ran into a corner, with nowhere to escape to, he was ready to accept his fate. He curled up in the corner and looked the baby golem in the face.

"I tried." He whispered, tears welling up in his eyes, watching this helpless baby reach out to try grab his face.

"Take me into your chest." The baby golem replied, in his voice.

"What the fuck?" Ronnie exclaimed holding the baby as far away from him as possible, fighting every urge in his body screaming at him to drop it, all its cuteness disappearing with those five words.

"You can talk? Why do you have my voice? Who are you? What's happening? Where are we?" Ronnie frantically asked, wondering just how much stranger things could get.

"This is the Borderlands, the realm between the dream world and physical world, where the heart chooses whether to stop or to continue dreaming. I am your last bit of hope, birthed from your memories. You can choose to let him smite me, but you will be next, or you can take me into your chest and keep living."

Here it was, his chance to say goodbye to everything. He didn't have time to think, the stone golem's hand was right above their heads. He looked at the baby golem, still smiling, reaching for his face. The stone golem began to drop his fist. With no time to think, he shut his eyes and thrust the baby into his chest.

He woke up the next day, gasping for air, his alarm clock blaring.

"What the fuck just happened?"