61320 hours { red oneshot }

PART I

7 years 

2555 days

61320 hours

An yet he could feel nothing.

The tears had stopped falling many years ago, but yet the pain in his heart never dulled. Most of the time he wondered in it would ever go away, if the pain wold ever fade... Bu it seemed not. It seemed that he would be lost in this world of cruelty and hurt for as long as he breathed, for as long had his heart pumped blood through his rotting veins. And yet he could not end it all. He could not bring himself to finally be allowed the peace that he had craved for his whole life- the peace that he deserved.

All his life he had been draped in a blanket of darkness. As a child he never understood why it had o be him, why he had to be the one who could not see the light.. but as he grew up be begun to understand that it was not because of him, but because of the work that he lived in. A world which knew nothing of kindness of mercy of love. People, his family, told him stories, told him that it would all get better that you just had to give it time, that he just had to open his eyes, but even when his eyes were open e could see nothing. He could not feel the warmth of the sun because, to him, the sun was just another enemy, another begin trying to kill him, trying to exterminate the human species. And maybe it was right in trying to do so, maybe it was right to eradicate such a spices that pawned its children against each other not for survival but for entertainment. 

Maybe there wasn't even a point to wishing, to hoping for our destruction because maybe this world was to cruel to kill us all. It wanted to watch the best- and the worst- of us suffer. and that was the cruellest conclusion that the boy could come to as his fingers laced themselves around the of poison. Tossing his head back he pressed the edge of the bottle to his lips, waiting for the burning sensation in which he had become to accustomed too over the past year or so. It was a wandered he hadn't found the cure -(could he really call it a cure when it was only temporary?) thats right, no so much as a cure as something to subside the pain, the fear and the sorrow that haunted him.  

But you maybe getting a little confused by now, asking yourself why? Why he felt like this, why he felt like his life was dangling over the edge of a cliff with no one standing at the ledge to rescure him. And it may be that you don't know, or that you refuse too let yourself believe. Maybe you havent had to experience what this boy (no he was no bot any longer, he was a man. A young adult.) It may be that you yourself have not experienced the world and what it truly is. You could be lost, still enchanted by the illusion of what the world is. Maybe you still see love, and happiness. Maybe you are still holding onto the small things, cherishing them because you know that if you let go you will lose it all.

Maybe you should hold on tightly.

Maybe you should let go, let the facade drop.

He has.

For a long time now, he has not been able to cherish the small things. He has not been able to feel the things that tip the corner of his lips- its called a smile right? The gesture of happiness. 

For the longest time he can remember darkness- no, reality had wrapped his cold boney around around him, abducting him from the world that Storm (the mention of his name makes him feel sick, bile rising in his throat, he reaches for a bucket, hugging it tightly) had created, just for him.