D3 // TIBERIUS HAZE [DONE]

From the day that my mother left me to this day right now, I have always been told that I look too big, too short, and too ugly. It is always too much for people’s liking they can never take what I have, they can never see what is really they, they always have to want more, they always have to expect more. The last time a person told me I was ugly, I stabbed them in the back.

I’m not a girl’s toy to touch, my hair, my body and the way I’m set is not meant for girls or boy’s. I’m a man’s man. I’m not a ladies man, or even a girl’s man, or even a boy’s man. I’m meant for men. My eyes, the way they are so strong, the light grey touch to them gives me a more older and mature look. My hair is net and well combed, always looking good- what strand of hair would dare go out of place. My nose is well shaped, and my lips are almost perfect. But I think it is the dark rims under my eyes and the creases in my face that shows just how hard my life has been, and all the stress that seems to way down on my shoulders.

The thing that I love the most about me is the tattoos that litter my body, beautiful homemade jobs. Each and every single one of them tells a story. But if any of you fucking touch them I will punch you in the face. I love my that’s and I won’t let none –except for Shadow- touch my ink. It’s mine. But gees they are pretty damn good. Most people say you’ll look like a wanker when you’re older, old wrinkly with flappy bits of tats. The least person that even looked at me in that way ended up with a broken nose. I don’t like wearing much clothing. Screw clothing it does nothing, except cover my awesome muscles and brilliant ink. Why would I hide that?

Shadow is a really happy guy, and I am always trying to be cheerful and fun, and I really am. I guess a part of me is just trying to impress that sexy hot amazing boy. So I be happy. Besides my life is already bad enough that I don’t mind. But I think that part of the reason why I drown myself in a false sense of joy is because of everything that happened to me as a little kid. When I was like only yay high, my parents were both killed. I know everyone says that because it’s well Panem, but my parents were ripped away from me when I could no more than stand.

SO all I have ever had is happiness to make my life something. Then when Shadow came it all changed again, my false sense of joy turned in something more real. I grabbed that and I have never let it go so far. Shadow and I became great friends. We both learned how to sell drugs properly, finding the right people, the little loops and the right things. It all worked. I mean I'm alive and have a pretty good life. I'm happy with the guy I work with, and I love him to bits.

I have always had trust issues. I don't really tend to put much trust into anyone. people just aren't trustworthy. The problems with me and people came when I was young. After living on all the steets for so long, after all the places, bashings, taunts, pain and nothing, but lonliness. I lost it all. I just gave up on expecting from anyone. I didn't trust anyone I just kept to myself like I always have. I became stubborn and rude. I didn't talk to anyone and they all ignored me. It was a mutual bond between me and all of the people. Then when Shadow came along I soon put everything aside and let myself sink into a trust for that boy, then after I allowed that the rest followed, I trusted Demea, and Drace. They were all I had.

”You’re a piece of shit! Why would anyone want you.” There was no question in that statement. The man that stood before me was being honest. He wasn’t lying or expecting me to answer a question I couldn’t, because that was it I simply couldn’t. No one did want me. This man in front of me, with his tattered clothing, and yellow teeth knew it. The old lady who cowered behind him with a deep purple bruise beneath her left eye knew it. No one had ever wanted me. It was why my parents left me. It was why I was here cowering on the front step of a house. Fighting desperate let to stop the tears that would surely fall.

”Leave now boy, before I bash you like the hag behind me.” He spits. I do nothing, because I know I can’t. My life has always been about hiding, keeping away from the accusing eyes of everyone in the district. They all knew I would never deserve their attention. I could do nothing to ever get it. My eyes flit away from him. I didn’t want to leave. I couldn’t go back out onto those dark and unforgiving streets. I had seen all those people sink to the ground and die. I didn’t want to die. I had lost everything in my life. I couldn’t lose life as well. But this man didn’t want me to have hope, he couldn’t let me have something to hold onto.

He steps forward, and before I can move, or even speak his hand juts out and collides with the side of my face. I’m no coward. I’m a strong young boy with a broken heart. My heart was ripped in two at the age of four. Every time I have tried to fill that whole, and mend it back together it never works. The glue that I try to place in it seeps through hand leaves me more broken and pain filled then before. I don’t yell, or cry in pain, I just let it hit me. “Worthless piece of shit, piss off before I get back here. Otherwise you’re a dead shit. If I ever see you on my property again, you’ll find yourself dead.” He snarls, throwing a cold glare my way.

I was only twelve years old. I had spent all my life on the side of streets, scavenging in trash, looking and searching for food. My eyes would always stare hungrily at each house I passed, and everyday hoped that one of those doors would open, and I would be invited in; if only for a meal. Or even just a hug. I had never been told that someone cared for me, loved me or even liked me. The cruel words of angered people and the taunts were all I knew and sometimes I wanted a snappy remark or a stinging comment. When I'm all alone I miss being beaten and bashed. Because even when I was hurting, at least I had a place I could call home.

As I grew older I let the pain rip into me and I would often stop and just cry. Everyone says crying is for the weak, but what about those who have gone passed being weak. People who have just lost it all and have nothing left to lose? Is that being weak? I don’t think so. As the years passed I watched the anger and hate in me build, because I never let it go. After all those bashing, beating and being told how pathetic and useless I was I couldn’t let it all go. So I left it sitting in me. Not too long ago I passed by an old shattered mirror. I stood there and looked. I didn’t expect to see what I saw. I saw what they all saw. A desperate, defeated boy that wanted everything. There was hunger in my eyes. No wonder they all hated me. I hated myself. Who couldn’t hate such a pathetic piece of shit. Worthless piece of shit…

That is exactly what I am.

All my life I have been searching, seeking that place where I am finally seen as me, and not the boy that I once was. I’m trying to find the place where I can end the abuse and can mend the whole in my heart, but every time I think I have found that place, and my heart slowly begins to mend the pain. It is torn from me, leaving a bigger whole in its place. I’m beginning to believe that the whole is going to be there until it gets so big, that even I fall into it and I won’t be able to be saved. I’ll fall. I’ll drown in the sorrow that I live in, the misery that is my life. Slowly, so very slowly I know I am beginning to lose it. I will keep losing it all until there is no more.

When I found Shadow, I didn’t believe it. I didn’t out anything into the overly happy boy. Then he stole me, he grabbed my heart and took it with him. I fell for him. For the first time in my life I kept falling, but my falls changed, I began to fall for this boy, I fell in love with him. but I never let myself get to close, I watched and waited, as I have always done. Nothing ever good happened to me, so I knew that the boy would leave me, and I knew that when he did that whole would swallow me, because I was too much in love with him. I had become too close. Then I dared to believe that he liked me. I began to see the little looks he gave me, and I wanted so desperately to believe that he felt the same way. My heart ached for me to tell him, but I couldn’t. My life had been hurt too much. I couldn’t let him take my heart as well.

Then it all changed. Everything was against me. Shadow stared liking another boy. He showed interest in a young boy. It hurt so much to see him look at the boy in that way, when he had only ever looked at me like that. The hate at him builded in me. My heart was finally mending, and then it was as if no one cared, and suddenly, a hand had reached in there and had ripped half of it out. I had never felt so much pain. Not even the yelling, bashing and beating hurt as much as it did seeing Shadow do that to me. But I could never hurt Shadow. So I turned all that pain onto the boy. I have made it my mission to give him the pain, which I have suffered all my life. But no matter how many times I see him, or see Shadow part of me feels lost.

I feel as if a piece of me is missing, and it died long ago.

I’m still searching for it.