Chereads / The Color Of My Soul / Chapter 2 - "You and me, today."

Chapter 2 - "You and me, today."

Ronnie was back at school. He was still shaken by his dream. Walking down the halls to the lab, his actions were almost all purely out of muscle memory. 'Would I really have died last night?' He thought to himself, setting his bag on the floor beside him and taking his seat, next to the window, in the middle section, as usual. 'Would I have died in my sleep? Would my heart have stopped? Would I become suicidal?' Questions raced through his mind as he picked books out of his bag. Placing them on the table, the questions stopped, his mind silent. The book at the forefront was that red leather bound book. He looked at it. The maroon thread used to stitch the leather to the hard cover book reflecting the morning sun's rays. The memories and feelings he had jotted down the previous night came back to mind, as well as a certain level of peace from reminding himself of the life philosophy he had adopted. 'It doesn't really matter I guess, does it?' He thought, examining the craftsmanship of the book.

"Ronnie!" Mr. Gilbert energetically called out, pulling Ronnie back into class. The class had filled up as Ronnie was still in his delirious state of uncertainty.

"I see you ditched the eyepatch." He continued. It was just then that Ronnie noticed he hadn't worn his eyepatch this morning. The whole class turned to face Ronnie. It had now become a peculiar sight to see this student without an eyepatch on. The awkwardness intensified as each second of silence passed. Rubbing his forehead, then face with his right hand, as though he was still sleepy, he replied,

"Ugh yeah...I must've forgot it on my way out. I was running late." Mr. Gilbert threw up two thumbs up, rife with energy so early in the morning as usual.

"I'm diggin' the new style, but can you tell me which chamber of the heart pumps blood to the rest of the body?" Mr. Gilbert loved testing his students on the spot. Ronnie knew the answer, but he waited for someone else to respond to draw attention off of himself, in typical Ronnie fashion.

"Left ventricle!" Stacy, one of the class' top performers hastily jumped in.

"Ah she beat me to it." Ronnie clearly acting disappointed. Mr. Gilbert's thumbs up now turning into finger guns.

"Gotta be quicker than that buddy, maybe next time champ." Ronnie smirked, nodding his head, just relieved to finally have the attention off of himself. As Mr. Gilbert went on to teach, Ronnie gave the leather bound book one last glance, before dropping it back into his bag.

It was now lunch. Ronnie sat at his table in the corner. He could feel the internal confusion he was subject to, not understanding why he didn't jump at the opportunity to die, but rather did the exact opposite. In that moment in the Borderlands, separate from both worlds, when left to dictate his path for himself, he chose life. He wanted to blame it on the fact that he had been tricked, that he had only chosen this path to save the golden baby, but this failed as a satisfactory explanation. 'What's one baby's life worth in such a rotten reality? Why didn't I rationalise it this way?' He thought to himself, truly internally distraught. Confronted with the idea that he might not be in full control of himself, fearing that he might have been a mystery to himself this entire time, completely in the dark about the purpose these other unknown forces deep within himself had set out for him and with no idea on how to begin resolving this, he felt this sense of hopelessness add to the overwhelming heap of pain he already had in his core. He thought, just maybe, he might find solace in writing this dream, as well as these feelings, in that red leather bound book.

However, looking through his bag on the floor beside him, the book that should have stuck out immediately he laid his eyes on the open bag was nowhere to be found.

"No no no, fuck, please no..." He muttered, turning his body to face his bag. He had grown attached to the book, the book holding a significant portion, if not all of himself in his mind, and he could feel the depressive thoughts seep back in as he frantically flipped through each book to no avail. 'This just had to happen, this is my fucking life' he thought to himself, the tenacity with which he grabbed his bag dulling with each depressive thought, the red hue in his left eye slowly creeping back in.

"Hey, you dropped this."

A hand slid the red leather bound book across the table.

"Oh shit!" Ronnie replied, quickly wiping the base of his sniffling nose with his sleeve. Waves of relief spreading throughout his body, the level of gratitude of this depth he had not felt in a decade, up until this moment where he did not have to give up on something he cherished. He looked up, grabbing the book, the red hue in his eye clearing, he was ready to show just how grateful he was. He let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh my gosh, thank you so-" He stopped abruptly mid response.

It was Rosa. Dark skinned, short, naturally beautiful. She would dress in casual, bland colours, never a flashy stylistic choice in her attire, she kept to herself. She was quite the mystery herself too. However, that wasn't what froze Ronnie. In her eyes were a certain childlike spark, as though they were graced with the presence of a mermaid. Ronnie's eyebrows furrowed, looking intently into Rosa's eyes, her eyes now switching into panic mode, reeking of guilt. To Ronnie, it was just a hunch, but with no risk involved in his plan, he set his trap.

"I can see when people lie, you know?" Ronnie baited her. Sitting down on the bench, setting her bag on the floor and leaning in to get a better look at the scar, her eyes lit up even brighter than before as she asked,

"Can you really?"

Ronnie was infuriated, but he knew better than to hit a woman. He held the book up to his forehead, quaking with rage, using every ounce of his consciousness to try not to explode,

"So you stole it," he asked, his voice slightly muffled by the book, "and read it?"

"What? It's a really good book!" She replied. His head slowly peeked up from behind the book. He gave her a death stare, so intense it could peel skin. She hadn't registered his ferocity, but upon getting caught in these crosshairs, the gravity of the situation began to sink in. She leaned back a bit. Seeing her shoulders and chest tense up as her breathing constricted, Ronnie was reminded of the similar horrors the man would put him through, seeing a younger version of his eyes sat across him. This softened his heart, and his eyes followed suit. He sighed.

"That's outta pocket," he said, looking down at his lunch nodding disapprovingly, "what do you want? Why are you still here?" Her shoulders eased up, grateful for his mercy.

"You're...interesting." She replied, tilting her head to look at his eye again.

"And you're annoying." He bluntly replied.

"I'm curious." She replied.

"I don't care, this isn't a book tour, you stole it." He begrudgingly replied.

"Is that real blood? On the pages? Or is it part of the, 'art'?" She asked, completely invested.

"C'mon stop." He replied, unenthusiastically.

"Why don't talk in your 'art voice'? Also, what race was the goddess?" A cheeky smile started to form on her face.

"Stop." He replied.

"Could you draw me the Appo?"

"No." He replied firmly.

"What about," she stopped for a second, her quite easy going manner disappearing, looking down at her hands, fidgeting with her fingers, the atmosphere changed, "you didn't write it down but," she continued, now looking him in the eyes, "what did you dream about, the night Johnny died?" The memories of that night flashed in Ronnie's mind, scenes of horror and despair. He took a deep breath, still annoyed by the fact that she would not leave him in peace after stealing something so core to him.

"Look," he said, with the most dismissive look on his face, "even though you stole it and weren't supposed to read it in the first place, you did. You, full well now, should know, I don't care enough to explain these details to you." She grinned, her eyes lighting up once more, she replied,

"You just did the art voice."

"Are you even...leave!" He now asserted, regretting how much effort he had placed into 'making his art sway the heart'.

"Fine," she replied, picking up her bag, acting as though his dismissive demeanor had offended her, "but," she continued, "maybe you're such a nihilist 'cause you're a virgin." She left, leaving him that cheeky little remark. She gave him the side eye as she left. Thinking about his situation, he found the irony of that statement quite amusing. 'What a joke it'd be if that was why I leapt away from death', he thought to himself. This thought tickled him, forcing him to cough up a scoff, and a genuine smirk, a smirk he wished he had never let her get the pleasure of seeing, but she did, and she left having bested him. Up until then he had felt in control of the conversation, but now he wasn't so sure. 'What a character', he thought to himself, watching her walk off as 'victor'.

That night, as usual, he dreamt.

He woke up, in the dead of the night, but this time he was in the dreamworld. At least a decade had passed since he had been here. His body was grown, a mirror image of his body in reality, but his hair was hot, and red again. Sat up by that fateful river, across what would have been the one armed man's shack, now only a few planks of aged, brittle wood, a complex set of emotions brewed in his core, only describable by one word, nostalgia. He prodded the ground with his finger, and grabbed the air wrapping it around his hand, the sensation was all too familiar. He looked up at the stars spread across the night sky. 'I'm lost,' he thought, 'what do I do?' He hoped they could give him some clarity, or bring themselves down to talk to him as he thought they did when the river goddess graced him with her audience. Granted these were not genuine cries for help to the stars, the small fraction of his heart hoping for a response, broke, when only the chirping crickets of the night could be heard, going about their business.

Out of this ambience, he heard the shuffling of leaves behind him, down the hill. He looked back, but the night sky, lacking the gaze of the full moon, only made it difficult to make out the figure. It appeared to be a person, scavenging. One thing he knew for certain though, through the palpable darkness of that night, was that this creature had no business searching through the one armed man's bag, a shape etched into his mind over the course of time they bonded, one he could make out in a heartbeat.

A beat of rage pulsed from his core, spreading outwards towards the rest of his body. His back and arms now hairy due to his age easily carried the flame spreading from the top of his head. From the creatures perspective, a red flame had been ignited, and it was now drawing closer. As though it was in the presence of a wild beast, sensing the wrath emanated by that red glow, not a word had to be exchanged for it to understand that it had encroached on territory within which it was not welcome, and that a hefty price would have to be paid. It lifted its hands, surrendering the bag, taking two leaps backward, leaving a gap almost 50 feet between it and the bag, all before Ronnie could put a face to the wanderer.

Ronnie casually walked up to the bag, as his flames died down producing less intense flares. He gently picked up the bag, and walked back up towards the apex of the hill. He had been heard, clearly, or so he thought. Not three steps into his journey, he felt an object plop into his bag, as if fruit had fallen from one of the trees within the forest right into the opening of the bag. He looked up and around to see where it could have come from, up until then he had never seen the trees of the forest bear fruit, however, with the forest ill-lit solely by the weakening glare of his flames, he opted to look into the bag instead. Upon looking into the bag, he found nothing, but a small object in the corner of the bag, still obscured by the pitch darkness. He looked at it intently, but just as his head dipped deeper into the bag, it lunged at him.

It grabbed onto his face and crawled under his shirt. It ran all over his body, through his pants, up and down his legs, hotfoot, lightly prickling his body in a playful manner. Ronnie, with the obvious sirens wailing in his head, dropped the bag and hastily struggled to pull his shirt off. It was as though he had been caught smuggling nuts by a starved squirrel. In the heat of this cartoonish tussle, with his shirt drawn over his head, Ronnie stumbled over the bag behind him and fell to his back, but the creature continued to circuit around his body like a moth trapped under a lampshade. Out of his mounting distress, Ronnie, for fear of the creature making its way into any orifices, ripped his shirt off exposing the creature now frozen on his chest. However, just as he was about to descend his wide open palm from the heavens to smite this pest, it began to grow.

Frozen by the bizarre scene, the creature grew and covered his chest. He tried to shake it off and backpedal, but by this time the creature had already wrapped around his torso, and its increasing weight made it even harder to do so. It grew large enough for him to realize it was the same creature searching through the one armed man's bag. It extended its arms and pinned his arms down, laying him flat on his back, letting out a distinctly feminine grunt. 'A woman?' He thought. Remembering the parallels this world would make with reality, he began to make a connection. 'Rosa!' The thought infuriated him.

This realization stoked the flame, allowing the creatures face to be illuminated, by the red glow of the blaze, revealing a grinning face, just as dazzling as Rosa's, however, her eyes were those of a serpent. She seemed to be having fun exciting his flames, the sparkle in her eyes indicating she was drawn to that red glow. What happened next, however, is what really threw Ronnie for a loop. She extended her tongue, serpentine as well, and licked the side of his face. The side of his face she had licked, heated up, almost as though it was now ignitable, and though he would hate to admit it, part of Ronnie liked it. She hissed like a snake, leaving him with a cheeky little smile, before sitting up, hopping off of him and jumping back into the forest further up the hill.

Ronnie sat up in an absolutely confused state. 'What just happened?' His worlds just seemed to be getting increasingly more complex. He worried the ironic statement Rosa had made earlier that day actually rang true, and just as he was trying to shake the thought, his worries not only heightened, but were also solidified, by his own voice speaking from deep within saying one word,

"Follow."

Ronnie woke up.

Having woken up everyday of his life for the past decade sure of himself, this internal conflict didn't sit well with him. 'It was the golden baby golem speaking,' he thought, grasping at ideas to quell this unsettling feeling, 'yes, he's the one who thinks Rosa is worth anything. I should have let the stone golem squash him, rather than house him in my chest if I knew he would corrupt my thoughts like this. I, however, I know the nature of this world and the rotten core of reality, which chokes the value of anything that could be considered of any value. The illusion has been revealed to me, and I'll never forget.' The first thing he wanted to do once he woke up was wear the eyepatch, simply so that Rosa had nothing to fixate on in case she came back to bother him, but he noticed he was thinking about her, and using these thoughts to dictate his actions, first thing in the morning. This enraged him, and he decided that with the red hue gone, that, would be the reason why he wouldn't dawn the eyepatch. He hardened his heart repeating the string of thought once more, but a prickly sensation remained, one that silently, but surely, pestered him, because deep down, if the voice that the golden baby used had communicated one thing, if any, to Ronnie, it was that the voice was his.

He went on about his school day, reassuring himself of his conviction, like a prayer, repeating it every time Rosa popped into his head. However, the time came to truly test how true it rang, because as lunch arrived, so did his hardest challenge yet. She approached his table, bouncing with each step. Her clothes, though still bland in colour, were slightly tighter than usual. Some turned their heads to get a better look, others really testing the integrity of their necks, but her eyes were fixed. Ronnie saw this, looking to his left to see the golden baby golem on the bench with a menacing grin on its face, nodding at him approvingly, but Ronnie ducked his head, deep in prayer. He wasn't having any of it. She sat opposite him, wafting her fruity perfume, a bewitching scent, with that simple movement.

"Hey." She tried to catch his attention. Ronnie, with his earphones still plugged in his ears, kept his eyes on his food, paying her no mind. 'If the golden baby wants to pursue you, it'll have to find it's own way into your chest, it won't be through me.' He thought to himself.

"I wonder," she continued, "what type of music would sway an 'unswayable heart'." She had figured him out. He knew she knew nothing was playing in his earphones. He hated that she phrased it that way, like she was a puppet master and he a puppet, so he wasn't going to let himself get 'one upped', not again. He looked at her, she smirked, thinking she had bested him once more, but he noticed she had glossed her lips. He was slightly astonished by the idea that she might have been interested in him, but more importantly, this was his opportunity.

"I see you glossed your lips." He replied, and from the look in his eyes she immediately knew what he was suggesting. She thought she hadn't been so obvious about it, it was just glossed lips, but she froze. With her eyes slightly widening, the abrupt breath she took only further confirmed it. Ronnie was now certain he had won, knowing how self conscious he had made her feel. However, as he sat there looking at her, basking in glory, he watched as the golden baby climbed up her left arm, resting on her shoulder and taking a deep sniff of her hair, and though the golden baby only had a mouth, the smug look on its face as it let out a euphoric sigh, left Ronnie embarrassed enough to quickly look back at his tray. She noticed his eye movements and immediate switch in demeanor. She knew something special was happening. This warmed her up a little, and eased her nerves.

"I...," she tried to break the silence, still a bit shy, "I wanted to know whether you wrote some more."

"This seriously isn't a book club." Ronnie replied, quite cold heartedly. She tilted her head to look into his face. She could tell something about her being around was bothering him. The golden baby was still playing with her hair.

"You know," she continued, "if nothing really matters, why not just...indulge?" He looked at her for a second, then back at his tray. He then began to think about it, furrowing his eyebrows deep in thought. She did have a point. He looked at her once more, eyebrows still furrowed, wondering whether she felt a similar way about life. 'Maybe that's why it swayed her so much.' He thought.

"What?" She replied, folding her arms, looking up into his eyes impertinently. She thought he was judging her, offended by the nature of the thoughts she assumed he was having. Ronnie scoffed, understanding what she thought he was thinking about. Her natural demeanor always seemed to tickle him. He took a deep breath and sighed, looking back at his tray.

"I guess," he said, "I'll have to think about it."

"Then you'll let me read the book?"

"Fuck no." He would rather die than let it fall into her hands again. She slowly stood up, and leaned over the table. Her head above his, the fruit laced scent of her neck graced his nostrils.

"Hide it," she whispered, in a low, conniving voice, "well." Ronnie looked up, into her eyes, he could smell the cherry lip gloss, the cherry scent drifting off her lips. She meant every word. The fact that she tried to threaten him with such a small frame pulled a smirk out of Ronnie, a smirk his soul fought tooth and nail to hide to avoid encouraging her any further. She picked up her stuff, walking off on that note.

All he had to do was leave the book at home, something anyone with half a brain would have thought of before exposing such a plan. Ronnie knew this, the flaw was so obvious, a bit too obvious, and the fact that it did not click, or that she might have had other hidden intentions, only served to spark more interest in her, enough to drive him to finally release a smile. 'What a character.' He thought, watching her walk off once again.

He may not have noticed, but his heart was falling.

Back in the dream world that night, the sun was setting, in line with the river, down the hill.

Ronnie knew what to expect, he just was not sure of how exactly it would go down, his interaction with the serpentine lady. He sat by the river bank, dipping his feet into the water, waiting, plotting to track each parallel this world would generate to the real world. He looked down at the waters, flowing. He looked into the eyes of his reflection and noticed his red pupils. 'All this time spent in the dream world,' he thought, 'and even my own face isn't familiar to me.' It dawned on him how much he had not yet explored, looking up at the civilization, and into the thick ominous forest.

Just then, from the exact portion of the forest he was looking at, the lady emerged. 'Wow.' He thought, giving a dry reaction, unimpressed by the queue this world had set up to reveal her. She walked towards him, quite illuminated by the light of the setting sun, swaying her hips, left and right. Her hair was purple, her eyes yellow, and her nails sharp like claws. A predator manifest as a woman, she looked venomous. She dawned an undershirt and leather pants, both tight, full black, barefoot. She looked at Ronnie as though she wanted to consume him, but Ronnie remained unimpressed. He turned his head back to face the river.

She walked up and sat by him, dipping her feet into the water, wafting that now familiar scent, of Rosa's perfume. 'Really?' He thought, rolling his eyes. She leaned into him, looking up at his face, gleefully kicking her feet. He leaned away from her looking into her serpentine eyes, and asked,

"Why are you so interested in me?" He genuinely wondered. "Wouldn't most people consider my mentality a red flag?"

"Oh red you certainly are," she replied, still grinning, and in Rosa's voice, "so maybe it's because you glow red, like the sun." He remembered what happened that fateful day the sun went red, memories he wasn't ready to face just yet, however, she had stroked his ego with that statement, spurring a similar sensation within him as she did when she licked his face. He eased up, but the hiss she gave reminded him to keep on guard, just in case.

"Why are you here?" He asked, looking back at the river. She looked at the forest across the river, at the planks of brittle wood, remnants of the shack.

"You haven't looked around," she replied, "have you?" Ronnie took a minute, peering around at the nothingness in the environment.

"I haven't explored much," he replied, before turning to face her, "but that isn't what I asked."

"Well," she continued, reaching behind her, Ronnie's curiosity mounting, "I brought you something." She pulled out an object and handed it to him. It looked and felt like a mango, but its colour and texture was similar to that of a blueberry. He had never seen anything like it.

"What is this?" He asked.

"It's fruit," she replied, "most abundant in these forests. Bite through the skin." He looked at her keenly as he run it through the river to rinse it. He was still suspicious of her, but it was the dream world so, 'Why not.'

He took a bite and was immediately blown away by the incredible flavor. Sweeter than honey, with such a tang it sent waves of warm blood soothing his brain, however, once swallowed, it left an intensely strong sour sensation in his stomach. Though purple on the outside, it's flesh was red. It was like a seedless mango, but truly a delicacy you could only experience the taste of within a dream. The immense sensation of euphoria it produced in his mouth and mind was enough to help him benumb himself to the sour sensation it left in his stomach as he ravaged the fruit. However, he began to feel dizzy. He looked at her, the flesh from the fruit still stuffed in his cheek, seeing double. He saw the grin on her face widen, as she let out one last hiss, leaned into his ear and whispered,

"There's more, just follow me into the forest." She licked a drop of the fruit's juice rolling down his face off of his chin and cheek, and giggled, letting him experience that electric, pleasurable sensation once more.

"Oh shi-" He said, using up his last reserve of energy to let out that remark, before collapsing onto his back, knocked out.

"Hey, hey! Wake up," he came to with the golden baby pinching his cheeks with its tiny hands, "check this out." it continued.

He jolted into an upright sitting position, launching the golden baby off of his chest, sending it rolling a few feet. He was back in the Borderlands, back in the stone golem's lair, however, the stone golem looked lifeless. Still sat with its legs crossed, its arms lay lifeless on the ground with its palms facing up, and its head was dipped. It had a giant hole in its chest, cracks riddled its torso, as though an explosion had occurred deep within its core, debris spread across the floor of the lair. Three different coloured golem's of different sizes, faceless as well, had crawled out of this hole. The smallest was orange. It looked like a toddler, and was very interested in looking around the lair. The second, blue, looked pubescent, and sat in a corner with its head tucked into its folded arms. The last, and largest, sat directly across him. This one was his size, and though it had no facial features, it gave off a violent aura. It was red, of course. The golden baby crawled up to his leg, using his thigh to support its weight standing up, its knees slightly wobbling. It looked at the other golems, then looked at him with its usual cheek to cheek smile and said,

"Look at what she's done."

Ronnie woke up, breathing heavily, heart racing, in a bewildered state. His alarm was blaring again and he was running late for school. Rushing to get ready for school, he realized he had lost track of his initial plot going into the dreamworld. He had made practically no parallels to this world, and recalling his dream last night, they weren't at all so obvious. He grabbed the red book ready to pack it, he did not have time to sit down and write it immediately.

'But what about Rosa.' The thought popped into his head, freezing him for a second. He looked at his bed to see the golden baby smiling, before they both burst into hearty laughter.

Whether she had planned to or not, she had etched herself, so deeply, into Ronnie's mind that he would have to think of her each time he handled the book. The mystery of whether she planned this only adding to Ronnie's level of intrigue, the hearty laugh he shared with the golden baby only further deepening this etch. 'Who the fuck have I got myself entangled with?' Ronnie thought to himself, oddly amused by how interesting a character Rosa continued to become.

He may not have known it, but his heart was falling, hard.

Four days into his senior year, and he already felt as though he had lived a lifetime in comparison to the rest of his school years. In his mind, the past decade had flown by, a blur in his memory as though he had just emerged from an egg, cracked open once that red book landed in his palms. It was as though he could only live as long as he dreamt, dreams of substance, colourful dreams in a symbolic world. He really was an artist. He was aware something within him was brewing, something the 'reality' of this world, no matter how strong a grip it had on his mind, it could never choke, and squeeze the value out of like a sponge. However, little did he know, his journey had only just begun.

Thursday morning, the first class he had was Art class. When picking his subjects his options confined him to one of two choices, the other being Drama, it was a no brainer.

"Art," his art teacher, Mrs. Flint, declared, "is an explosion! Or so I've heard a student say before." The eccentric manner in which she spoke would capture the attention of anyone in the immediate surrounding, perfectly fitting for an art teacher.

"It's representative of life," she continued, "as time progresses in one direction, you never know what's coming next, and then boom! Novelty, surprising, like an explosion. This is why I'm choosing to surprise you, with a project." She was still a teacher.

"You'll work in pairs," she continued, "I want you to look back into history, think about significant figures, real or fake, its your choice, this is Art class. I want you to think about the significant impact they left on the world, on you. Use this to form shapes you feel best describe that impact, by combining your creativity and presenting it in the form of a coat of arms. Let it be a mark you would dawn, to symbolise a shared dream, and of course, what type of art would I be teaching, if I didn't leave you the liberty, to choose your own partners. Now get to work, the first class tomorrow is Art class again, I'm eager to see what you come up with."

Most people wanted to team up with Ronnie, not because they were aware of his art skills, but because he had a reputation. He would opt to carry out projects on his own and always earned each member of his team a passing grade. The bell rang, in his hand now a list of fourteen different people who had begged and offered bribes to be his partner. He chose to look through the list, shortlisting candidates depending on how much the bribes appealed to him, during his lunch period. Sure as death, as he looked down at the piece of paper in his hand, sat at his table, that all too familiar, tantalising scent, glided, dancing into his nostrils, leaving a small smirk on his face.

"If you came to ask for it 'cause you didn't find I still won't just give it to you." He said, even before she got a chance to set her bag on the bench.

"Well," she sighed, sitting opposite him, "it was worth a shot."

"Did you," he looked up at her, "want something else?"

"Damn," she replied, feeling offended, "you really still not cool sitting with me?" 'Whatever.' He thought, shrugging and looking back down at the list.

"I did," she continued, "have something else I wanted to ask though." He looked back up at her. Her eyes darted off to the side, she was embarrassed to ask,

"Would you want to be my partner for the project?"

"What project?" Ronnie was genuinely confused. Her shoulders and eyelids drooped as she looked at him, the impudence crystal clear. Ronnie looked back down at the list in his hand. All this time he had spent in his head locked off from the real world had stopped him from looking around and realising they had been in the same art class, and that he didn't even know when she had gotten the chance to steal his book the first time.

"Why would you think I'd want to pair up with you?" He asked, trying to provoke her.

"I don't know," she replied, "I just thought I was the only person you could stand to work with." She wasn't aware of Ronnie's reputation either. Ronnie crumpled up the list in his hand, stuffing it into his pocket. He had made his choice. He looked back down at his food.

"I like to work on these on my own." He said, taking a bite out of his meatball sub.

"Oh," she replied, a hint of relief in her tone, "that's why everyone wanted to pair up with you." She could still claim she was the only one truly aware of Ronnie.

"I..." she continued, Ronnie slowly raising his eyes to look at her, "I thought maybe we could work on it together. I could stop by yours in the evening, I just need to pick up some stuff." She built up the confidence to spit out what was on her mind. Ronnie really loved keeping to himself and was not used to the idea of involving others in his thinking process, but Rosa was 'interesting'. He looked back at his food.

"Don't come too late." She bubbled with excitement from that response, but maintained her composure. She slid a note across the table, into his peripheral view.

"Text me the details." She said, before promptly standing up and walking off, a little pep in her step.

"Uh oh." The golden baby uttered. He turned to face it, still with its usual cheek to cheek grin, but he could sense there was something it knew that he had missed. 'Oh shit!' He thought, as it finally dawned on him. All his years through school, he had never invited anyone over to his house, and he was now tasked with introducing a woman, to the oh so lively Esperanzas, and not just any woman, but Rosa. 'I did invite her though.' That was the reason he gave before sending her the address instead of immediately cancelling, or so he thought.

It was a long walk home for Ronnie that day. He dragged his feet, ideas rushing through his mind on how he could broach the subject, none of them good enough. He played through an immense number of different scenarios in his mind, like a grandmaster, and he believed he finally had it, stepping up to the entrance of the dragon's lair. Reaching out at the golden, shiny, doorknob, he could see his reflection. Never had he ever seen himself so stressed. There was no time to stop and self reflect and potentially lose focus. He took a deep breath and twisted the doorknob.

Chaos.

Blasting Cuban music, mouth watering flavours floating through the air, the twins running amok, in chorus,

"Junior!" they all exclaimed. This was the dragon he had to slay. Remembering the mission at hand, he gasped, testing the limits of his lungs, already occupied by the breath he took to calm down. 'Focus.' He was aware this would happen anyway, this was the norm, and so he exhaled regaining some composure.

"Ay Dios mio Junior," Reí exclaimed, "only four days into your senior year and you have a new, energy about you!"

"Yes," Carla added, "your eyes, ¿que te pasas?" Ronnie's anxiety was mounting, he had to get a hold of things, quickly.

"Yeah," he replied, jumping at the opportunity they had presented, he was aiming for the dragons exposed nape, "I wanted to tell you so-"

"Junior, Junior," Alexia interrupted, tugging on his shirt, "can I get a piggy back ride? Please? Please!" It sounded more like a demand than a request. She was now tugging so hard he was slouching over. He was crumbling. As the circulation in his neck was slowly getting cut off, he looked to the golden baby sat on the couch, it was a cry for help, he was losing. The golden baby, however, sat back, laughing, as usual. Ronnie resented housing even one inch of this fiend's golden skin, but before he could even think up an insult it would care to hear, the doorbell rang, stilling the energy in the house. Ronnie's mind went silent, kaput.

Carla rushed to answer the door. She opened it, greeted by the sight of the stunning Rosa. Her eyes widened as she turned her head back to face Ronnie.

"Ronnie," she said, not even trying to mask the excitement in her voice, "do you have a guest?" Ronnie was still frozen, his back hunched over. Alexia let go of his shirt, taking a few steps back, lifting her hands to her face to cover her giggle. Ronnie, in his grand plan, had forgotten to factor in the uncertainty of when she would arrive. The dragon had dealt a fatal blow, and the battle was not even over yet.

"Yeah," Ronnie replied, "um...guys, this is Rosa" Reí slowly lowered the volume on the speakers, which up until then had been blaring 'La Peligrosa' by 'Havana D' Primera'. Ronnie walked up to her guiding her in. Closing the door behind him, he awkwardly continued,

"She's my...uh,"

"Partner." Rosa added.

"for a project." Ronnie quickly added. He was not sure whether she was trying to make this harder than it had to be, but Ronnie, being quite the unhinged character, found it amusing. Looking at Reí, he fought the urge to let his smirk grow on his face, squinting his eyes, an expression Reí definitely misread, winking back at him, and lightly nodding. Rosa saw this and looked at him smiling. Ronnie dipped his head and nodded disapprovingly. The battle had been lost.

"Rosa, the Esperanzas." He said, motioning towards them with his left hand, defeated.

"It's a pleasure," she said, with her brilliant smile, "to meet you all." turning her head to look at Alex, who ran, followed by Alexia, blithely, to hide behind a couch, both giggling.

"Oh no," Reí quickly jumped in, standing up from his seat to come shake Rosa's hand, "the pleasure is ours."

"Yes," Carla chimed in, "would you like something to drink? Tea, maybe coffee? Dinner's almost ready, we'd love to host you."

"Nah I think we'll just be in my room." Ronnie was trying to wrestle away from the dragon, still flailing around his defeated corpse.

"Junior," Reí pled, "that's no way to treat your, guest." He purposely emphasised that last part.

"Si mijo," Carla added, "let her get comfortable. She's home now." They all looked at him, Rosa's look especially cheeky. It was as though they had teamed up to make this moment a living nightmare, and Ronnie was aching.

"I'm good, really," Rosa replied, "but honestly thanks for the offer." Ronnie was utterly grateful she had an ounce of mercy in her heart.

"If you need anything, just ask." Reí reassured her.

"Good luck with your project." Carla warmly said. Ronnie led her up the stairs to his room, walking behind her. He would have carried her and leaped up the stairs in that moment, anything to wedge himself out from under the forefoot of this dragon, however, just as he was making his way up to his freedom, he felt a tug on the back of his shirt. It was Carla.

"Be careful." She half whispered, facing downwards, looking up into his eyes. He knew exactly what she was referring to. It was just one last stab the dragon had to give, digging its talon into his chest, the final blow. Ronnie looked down and nodded, this was more than a defeat, utter domination.

They were finally in his room. Ronnie shut the door behind him, leaning on it, he let out a sigh of relief. He could breathe again.

"This," Rosa said, "is 'your' family? I'd never guess it'd be so live here."

"Don't drag this, please." Ronnie sincerely begged, having finally tasted peace.

"Okay," she said, a cheeky smile beginning to form on her face, "Junior." She tried to replicate Reí's Cuban accent. Ronnie gave her a disappointed look, he believed he would never hear the end of this.

"I'll stop." She said. Ronnie motioned to his bed. She sat on his bed, he sat on the rotating chair and faced the computer.

"You're the first person I've met who offered to do the work with me," he said, rotating in the chair to face her, "what did you need to go get anyway?"

"Uh...snacks?" She replied, pulling a break box with four brownies out of her bag. Ronnie looked at her, returning the impertinence she had grown fond of showing him. He thought that if they had planned their mode of attack together, he might not have been ragdolled so brutally, but she was the serpentine lady, so 'Who knows?' He thought. He grabbed the break box out of her hand, he needed a break of some sort. His comfort came naturally around her now, she loved it.

He grabbed one of the brownies, gobbling it. It disappeared in a matter of seconds. She stretched out her hand to stop him, but part of her wanted to see what would happen, she really was the serpentine lady. She grabbed one too and ate it whole. He turned back to face his computer.

"I usually aim for a mid grade," he said, cleaning his teeth and cheek with his tongue, "I don't wanna do nothing special."

"Why not?" She asked. He thought about it, he had not articulated his behaviour.

"I don't know," he replied, "I don't like interacting with people."

"So...?" She asked.

"It'd draw attention. Who knows what people would want me to do next?" He replied.

"That's interesting," she replied, "don't you wonder what you could do if you pushed yourself?" He thought about it for a minute. He did feel as though he had held himself back from a lot of potential, like an internal capacity had been leashed by the hope draining chain he had taken this reality to be, but that was besides the point, they had a project to get done. He rotated in his chair to face her.

"I was gonna go Abe Lincoln," he said, "you wanted to brainstorm, right? Go off."

"I wonder what the strangest would be," she said, looking up at the roof, "maybe Hitler, or like...Jesus." Ronnie found this quite amusing.

"They have quite obvious symbols though," he said, now pondering as well himself, "but like...Charlie Chaplin?"

"Yeah," she replied, "that'd be hard as hell. What dream would an army of Charlie Chaplins share?"

"They'd definitely be trolling." They both chuckled at Ronnie's thought.

"How about a crazy guy...like Diogenes?" She pondered.

"That would be hard to symbolise," Ronnie said, "maybe those would be the actual trolls, just anti-everything."

"Yeah I can see that," she agreed, "how about Al Capone?"

"Bag chasers." Ronnie replied. She chuckled, but it was acidic, looking down, as though it had touched a nerve.

"Scratch that," she replied, looking back up at him, "Abe Lincoln works, we'll go with that. He got the beard and shit."

"How do we split the work?" Ronnie asked.

"I can draw, I'm a'ight at drawing," she replied, a cheeky smile began to form on her face, "and you've got the 'dreamy eyes' anyway, you can probably think up the symbolism better." Ronnie smirked. 'Dreamy eyes.' He thought. He liked how she slipped in the compliment, innuendo at its best, in a good way. Her wit gave weight to the idea that she was always up to something hidden, and this appealed to Ronnie, the unhinged. He turned in his chair, facing the computer again.

"I'll read up a bit," he said, "see what I can find."

"I'll be on my phone." She replied.

Ten minutes into his research, Ronnie began to notice changes in his vision. It was as though he was reading through a shaky camera, and as he read the next word, the previous word would disappear, blurred in his vision and blurred in his memory. He leaned back in his chair and tried to examine his room, but just as he began to look around, he got slightly startled by Rosa sighing. He rotated in his chair to look at her, and saw her laying on the bed, shoes and jacket off. She had made herself comfortable in his bed and was facing the roof. She turned her head to face him.

"When do we get to fuck?" She asked, biting her lip, lightly raising her shirt, her legs spreading, her cheeky smile widening. Ronnie was taken aback. Her blunt remark had increased his heart rate, as if it was a hand squeezing his heart, manually beating it, sending pulses of blood simultaneously up to his brain and down towards his crotch. He could feel this pulse in his gonads, pulses of boiling blood, heating them up as well as his chest. Rosa was an incredibly attractive woman, Ronnie was breathing fire. He instinctively lifted his left hand up to block his left eye, now was not the time to be concerned with what the golden baby had to say.

'Is she serious?' He thought. His vision was coloured, his eyesight wavering with each heavy pulse, his mouth watering. There was only one way to find out, at least in his state. He stood up, walked towards the bed and crawled on top of her, but as he crawled on top, he slowly began to notice himself fading into the dream world.

He looked around. He could see the forest, the river, all under the red sun, walking away from the remnants of the shack, towards the forest, led by the hand by the serpentine lady. He was fully immersed in the dream world. She turned back to look at him. Noticing he was awake, she slowly eased the grip she had on his hand, letting go, walking a few feet ahead, still giving him a cheeky look. She stopped and turned around to face him, something special was about to go down. She lifted her arms, a trail of multiple arms following suit. She clasped her palms right above her head, as if she was in prayer, the look in her eye, sinister, but maddeningly attractive.

She began to sway her hips side to side, releasing a copy of herself with each sway, walking around to encircle him, each swaying their hips with each step as well. Ronnie looked down at his chest to see a growing glow, growing with the rhythm of his pulse, in rhythm with each copy's swaying hips. It was as though she was dancing to the beat of his heart. The spreading glow carried with it a fiery energy that nourished, fueling the fire he was already breathing. Ronnie's entire being was engaged. From their exposed armpits each copy began to release an aura that slowly filled the air all around. An incredible scent, Rosa's bewitching perfume, but more. Ronnie inhaled it deeply, shutting his eyes, deeply indulging in the sensation it produced as the glow from his chest brightened. It was enchanting, purple, like a violet rose. He opened his eyes to find himself on his back, lifted by a sea of arms, all the serpentine lady's, massaging every square inch of his nude skin. Each stroke carried the electricity he would feel every time she would lick him. It was an overwhelming, intense, euphoric pain Ronnie loved to endure, as the glow covered his entire body. It was building an internal roar. He looked around, and up atop a cliff he saw the serpentine lady. She was dressed like an Arabian belly dancer, her clothing purple, light and see through, her hands open above her head, directly under the moon, as though she lifted it, giving it life. He was in the forest, illuminated by the purple gaze of the full moon. She shook her waist, each tilt shaking the pieces dangling off of her belt, releasing a jingle, in rhythm with his beating heart. Her face was covered, except those preying eyes that shone purple, just as bright as the moon above her. The sea of hands lifted him towards her, bringing him up close to her waist where he could see everything, as she rotated, moving her hips, further hypnotising him. He could see her flower, a beautiful sight and scent that left his mouth watering. It was enchanting, purple, like a violet rose. He glowed even brighter, as though he was about to explode. She turned to face him, her waist keeping the rhythm. She slowly alleviated the bra, that easily fell off as though it had melted off, revealing her voluptuous breasts. She cupped his face and looked him in the eyes. He could see the emotions were shared. He glowed an even brighter red. Her eyes drifted upward in euphoria, as she sunk his head deep into her chest. Ronnie sunk into her chest, emerging out of the river, in the palm of a giant hand formed by the sea of arms, gasping for air. He was on his back, looking down the forearm of this giant arm that stretched deep into the river, still under the gaze of that purple full moon. She crawled up the forearm, out of the waters fully nude, like a predator creeping up on its prey, each step, in rhythm with the beat of his heart. The glow slowly drew from his extremities, concentrating, forming a brightly glowing branch between his mind and his heart. It was getting too intense for him to handle. She mounted him. She licked from his temple, down his neck, to his chest, as the glow concentrated at his heart, increasing his pulse rate. With the pressure building, he could not take it any longer. Just as her tongue was about to touch his heart, he climaxed, with a force drawn from every bone in his body. He released the combined weight of all the stress he had carried with him, deep, within her. He had never released a truer expression in his entire life. Blood rushed to his head, as his vision went red, then yellow, then white, before he passed out.

Ronnie woke up, his mind completely blank. He looked around and could barely realize where he was. He sat up, panicking for a few seconds. Eventually the memories flowed back in and he realized he was in his room, next to Rosa, who had pulled the covers up to her neck, breathing frantically. He then remembered the special moment this was. He had just lost his virginity.

"Woah." He said, still trying to compute all the madness he just went through. Rosa let out a sigh of relief, leaning against the wall closing her eyes.

"Fuck," she sighed, "I thought you fell into a coma, or went crazy or some shit."

Ronnie looked at his desk and saw the break box, still with two brownies in it. He looked back at Rosa, flooded with relief. He could tell the amount of hellish stress she had just been through, it was sufficient payback for the trouble she caused him earlier. He dipped his head, looking down, and burst into laughter. Rosa looked at him, wondering what could possibly be so funny.

"What the fuck was in those brownies?" He asked looking back at Rosa. Rosa tried her best to hide the smile forming on her face. She was glad he was just as unhinged as she was.

"That's not cool." He added, playfully pushing her shoulder. He pulled her into his chest by her arm, laying back down, covering them both with the bed covers. Four days into meeting her, she had not only stolen his book, but his heart as well, which in this moment, where he realized something about her was definitely the truth, had already fallen.

"Are you comfortable?" He asked. Her head was laid on his chest, and her heart filled with joy at his new demeanor towards her. In the sweetest voice she could muster, she replied,

"Yes."

He stroked her hair, she wrapped her arms around him. 'How did he know?' He thought, thinking about the golden baby. 'What could have tipped him off?' He was grateful for this internal frenemy he had made.

"By the way," she said, "you still haven't told me about the dream you had...when Johnny..."

"Yeah I know." Ronnie interrupted. He hated revisiting those memories, but for her, he was willing. Something about her was the truth after all. 'Why not?' He thought.

"Do you really want to hear it?" He asked.

"I could, if you're cool with it." She replied. Ronnie smirked.

"Should I do it in my art voice?" He asked, trying to make the tone a bit more playful. She looked up at his lips and replied,

"Please?"

Still under the influence of the substances in the brownies, Ronnie felt like he was being transported back into the dream world the day it happened.

"It was noon," he began, "I sat by the river, not too far from the shack, dipping my new 'toy' in the water."

"The Appo?" She asked.

"The Appo." He replied.

"I was playing with its arms," he continued, "spinning them, watching them rotate was fascinating. I'd spin them so fast it'd look like it was dancing. However, this next time I spun it, it seemed like it was clogged. The arms seemed to hit a wooden barrier, blocking their path of rotation. I tried rotating it the other way but the same thing would happen. Its rotation was limited, its lifted arm pointed towards the shack."

"Oh shit." Rosa exclaimed.

"Yeah, but something even crazier happened," Ronnie added, "I tried shaking it to shake out whatever was blocking it, I thought it was a small stone, chipped wood maybe, but just as I looked at its face, it blinked."

"Ew what the fuck!" Rosa exclaimed again.

"Yeah I know," he continued, "you should have heard the noise its eyelids made, it was purely wood." Ronnie rubbed his forehead, the stress was getting to him.

"You good?" She asked.

"I'm good," he replied, "this the part that sucks. I didn't even get a chance to react to the weird shit I'd just seen, everything just went black and white, silent. I felt as if energy was being sucked from my body, everything I interacted with sounded muffled. I looked around. From the shack I could see white pulses, as though that was the source of discolouration, further out away from the shack still looked vibrant. I used up all the energy I could muster to walk towards the shack, my knees buckling with each step, my deafness to each step increasing the closer I drew to the source. I didn't care, the one armed man may have been in trouble, I'd die before I'd run away from this urge." Ronnie held Rosa tighter, she reciprocated this.

"I eventually fell to my face," Ronnie continued, "no sound, just immense pain. I crawled, and crawled until I could finally see it. The weakening effect was so great from here I could barely keep my eyelids open, the silence so defeaningly loud it felt as though my eardrums would explode, pure black and white. The shack was in ruins, and due to this draining effect I could barely make out what I saw, but it looked like a nine foot tall, full black crow, the source of this effect, stood on top of Johnny's," he caught himself, closed his eyes and sighed, "the one armed man's lifeless corpse. The lifted arm of the Appo pointed directly at the crow. It looked at me, and I, it, before it dug its talons into his chest, spreading its almost twenty foot long wings to take off. With one stroke of its wings, it thrust itself, so far up into the sky towards the sun, until it was obscured by its supreme radiance, sending a shock wave that not only cleared the surrounding forest cover, a radial stretch roughly forty yards long, and launched me backward across the river, but also carried with it all the chaotic sound it had repressed, a truly hellish sound it was. I wondered what freak of nature he had gotten himself involved with, and my anxiety only heightened when I heard a deep thump. Something had fallen out of the sky and planted itself in the ground a few inches away from my right shoulder. On closer inspection, it was a foot long, black feather, purely made of steel. I knew the one armed man was strong, but this was next level. I felt a heavy gust of wind from above me. The falcon was above the sun, spreading its wings. It wrapped its wings around the sun, leaving the entire dream world in pitch darkness for a few seconds, before releasing its radiance once again, this time with a red hue, stained by the one armed man's blood. It thrusted itself once more, launching itself towards the top of the hill at super sonic speed, releasing this hellish sound as it flew through the air, like a fighter jet, it screeched, like a bat out of hell. It landed on the peak of the hill, sending one more shock wave, rattling the trees beside me. There was a new king in town, the one armed man truly stood no chance. To the left of me was his bag, my left hand, shaking, but still clutching the Appo, the rotation of its arms was no longer restricted. I looked up at that bloody sun. That day, and even these past couple of days I have dreamt, the sun has kept that bloodshot hue, and the beautiful light that once struck awe and hope within me, has only served to feed this pain in my core."

He was done. He looked at Rosa and could tell she was exhausted. There was a small puddle of tears on his chest. Ronnie used the cover to dab it, as well as clean up Rosa's face a bit. She sniffled.

"Don't stop writing." She said. Ronnie smirked. He was not planning on stopping, but this was an opportunity.

"Only if you promise not to steal it again." He replied. She cheekily smirked.

"I promise." With that final remark, she was off into her own dream world.

She reminded him of Gi as she slept, the light sound she made, like she was singing. She had a birth mark on the back of her left shoulder, shaped like a three-leafed clover. She was an especially interesting character, that never failed to capture Ronnie's intrigue. He looked to his right to see her wide open bag, inside it a purple, leather bound, book. 'Is this world making parallels as well now?' He jokingly thought to himself, but more importantly, 'Why was that the only other thing she brought?' He looked at her, deep in sleep, and wondered whether this was her trying to be fair. She was the most interesting character he had met in a while after all. He reached in and grabbed the book, however, upon opening the first page, he found nothing. It was blank. He wanted to squeeze her, finding it incredibly amusing that even in her sleep she had bested him, but he would hate to rattle up the singing, sleeping, beauty. He shut the book, but just as he was about to put it away he got a hint of fresh biro ink, floating through the air. He turned to the last page, and there he saw a drawing.

It was a woman, chained by the wrists to the bottom of a well. The walls of the well were lined with skulls, some engaging in conversation, others mourning, others rejoicing, most mocking and casting judgement upon her. Though she was balled up, she had a blank look on her face. She appeared to have accepted this fate as though nothing of value could exist at the top of the well. This dark pit, she called home. Tears welled up in Ronnie's eyes as it had now been confirmed, she was a victim of this reality as well. He caressed her face, as he, as well, followed into the dream world.

He woke up beside the serpentine lady, his arms around her, they faced the river, all under the gaze of the red full moon. Laying on her left side, she was curled up in the fetal position, except for her right arm which extended behind her to wrap around his head, leaving her hand in his red hair. He carefully sat up, making sure the disturbance did not wake her up, however, holding her wrist, her face changed as soon as her hand was out of his hair. She looked disturbed, like she was having a nightmare, and she began to quiver, reminiscent of that little white rabbit.

Ronnie began to feel the same thoughts he had resurface, the same thoughts he had the day he decided not to rest until the little rabbit felt home. The past decade, nothing had bubbled up his heart, filling him with such great meaningful emotion, as much as this woman had in the past three days. He realized he truly did not hold anything else remotely close in value as he did her. He ignited his arms and legs, every ignitable inch of his skin, the flame still red but with a more orange hue, and pulled her closer into himself. He was going to rid her of all her worries, even if it meant he had to glow a brighter, deeper red, than that fateful red sun.

They both woke up. They jolted out of bed to the sound of the alarm clock, wailing unheard. Not only had they been running late for school, they also had no project to present for Art class. Sat up in bed, they looked at each other.

"Oh shit!" They exclaimed in unison. They got ready as quickly as they could and raced to school, brainstorming excuses now instead, combining their creativity. They ran towards class, only to find it already in session.

"Amazing, just in time," Mrs. Flint jokingly said, looking at the two trying to catch their breath, "what an entrance, truly like an explosion. I raise you this in response though, why don't you two go first? Surprise!" They looked at each other, finding it amusing to see each other in such a conundrum. Ronnie looked into Rosa's eyes, seeing her genuine expression of joy, even though it was in their demise, was such a great contrast to what he saw from the drawing in her book. She had a light in her eyes, and Ronnie again realised he honestly did not care about anything else, but keeping that light alive.

"Ladies first." He cheekily said, motioning her towards the centre of the room. She tried her best to hide her smile, as she walked into the spotlight, Ronnie following suit. She looked him directly in the eyes.

"This is your queue." She wittily retorted, nodding her head. Ronnie tried his hardest to keep a straight face.

"Ah yes, it slipped my mind." Ronnie replied.

"Don't freeze up now, you got this." Rosa added, rubbing his shoulder. He could not hide his smile any longer. He looked down, sniffled, and cleared his throat. Mrs. Flint, as well as the rest of the class, knew exactly what was going on, but they had never seen this side to either of them. They were completely enthralled. Ronnie took a breath and looked up, this was going to be risky.

"What is art?" He began, the remark drawing a few giggles from the audience. Mrs. Flint folded her arms, lifting up her hand to mask her smirk.

"Art," he continued, "represents the liberty of the soul to voice its deepest values. This freedom to speak and to be heard is what led us to think about..." Ronnie nudged Rosa with his elbow, she had to appear to have contributed to some extent. She looked at him and then around at the class, slightly panicking.

"Uh...tyrants!" She blurted out. Looking at her, with the widest smile she had ever seen him produce, he added,

"Yes, tyrants. For this reason exactly we chose to focus on..." He stopped, letting her steer the course she had set them on with that bizarre answer.

"Genghis Khan!" She mockingly said to Ronnie. If she could have in that moment she would have stuck her tongue out. Ronnie keeping this wide smile, was trying so hard to bottle in his laugh, a vein began to appear on his forehead.

"Exactly," he said, turning back to face the class, "the fascinating character that was, Genghis Khan." Ronnie knew what he planned to do from the beginning, he just had to find a way to twist the scenario to that end. Mrs. Flint was now totally enraptured, she honestly could not tell where they were going with this. Ronnie found an opening.

"We pondered," he continued, "on how best we could capture, and symbolise, the dream an army of Genghis Khan types would share, and one thing truly stuck out, there would be no rules. So for this project, we," he said, grabbing her hand, looking into her eyes. Her eyes widened, she was not sure what he was up to. Mrs. Flint was now on the edge of her seat, he continued, "decided to combine this specific element, with the wisdom passed down to us in class, and if there's one thing we've learnt, it's that art," 'No way...' Mrs. Flint thought, "is an explosion!"

Off they ran, bursting through the doors out of school, Ronnie leading Rosa by the hand. They ran into a mall, and into the food court, where they sat and tried to digest what had just happened.

"What the fuck was that?" Rosa was absolutely confused.

"I don't know...I don't know." Ronnie was still panting, trying to catch his breath, but Rosa's contagious smile helped ease his nerves.

"That was insane," she continued, "I wonder what they're saying right now. What about the school? Your parents!" Her mind was racing trying to figure out how to clean up the mess they had made, pieces they had scattered all along the path they took as they ran, the damage only multiplying the longer they stayed out, but upon looking into Ronnie's eyes and noticing that none of that fazed him, she lost the urgency to try salvage anything for his sake, he clearly did not care.

They now sat across each other, no clue what the future held. She looked down at the table.

"You did the art voice again." She cheekily remarked, breaking the silence. Ronnie looked at her, scoffing, but genuinely glad she was still able to joke in this moment. She was not worried either.

"That was cool, you know," she continued, "you're pretty quick on your feet. How'd you become so...articulate?" Ronnie thought back to his younger years, it was quite a sad thought. He looked down at the table, reliving the memories, then up at the ceiling of the food court. He took a deep breath.

"Back when I was younger," he began, "the torment of losing Johnny was too much for me to take. It was probably a guilty pleasure but," he paused, letting out an acidic chuckle, "I would read books in his voice, drowning in the nostalgia, of the times we spent on the road, and of the times when he would read me stories and teach me new words. It really was like drowning, because every time I would put down the book and look around, whether it was at the adoption centre, or in my room, the redness would leak back into my vision, and reality would pounce back onto me, as if even though I drowned, at least the water would rinse away the blood, and I could detach myself, from everything, and sink. It's actually through this process that I became more...sturdy, I guess, because through these books I learnt I wasn't alone, there was a whole community, billions of victims mauled by reality's bloodthirsty hands, and my case wasn't even the worst. Through his voice, even though these stories made my vision bloodier, I gained the strength to bare my fate. I like to think it was Johnny's spirit still guiding me from the other side."

"It's...it's beautiful that you can still look to care about other people's suffering," Rosa replied, still looking down, she sniffled, and gulped, "considering what you've been through. Never lose that." Ronnie looked at her. Still look looking down, she wiped her tears with her sleeve. They sat in silence for a few minutes. It was as if they owed it to the memory of Johnny.

Rosa looked up at Ronnie, then back down shaking her head as if to shake a thought she had out of her head.

"What's up? Is something wrong?" Ronnie asked, genuine concern drawn all over his face. Rosa took a minute.

"What if," she started still facing down, before looking up directly at Ronnie and continuing, "what if we ran away?" She reached out her hands, resting them in Ronnie's, and clasped them fairly tightly. She had a tear running down her cheek, looking deeply into his eyes, Rosa added,

"You and me, today."