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“A mutation is a failed attempt at either activating, or introducing, the Alpha gene in a subject that harbors active infection. They found that the two didn’t play nice together inside many subjects, and produced deformities over time. A Rager doesn’t typically carry the Alpha gene.”
I
was destined for this pain. It’s inevitable when one loves too much.
As more tears gather in my eyes, I wonder how many a person can cry before
they dry out. If there’s an endless supply of agony, or if it all comes to an end at some point.
“Shit thing about karma, isn’t it? She doesn’t give a damn what you didn’t know.”
We are broken pieces, stitched together by the pain of our losses. I don’t know if we’ll ever be fixed again. The only thing that’s certain is the uncertainty that awaits
us. Moments like these, when we close our eyes, and the images from our past remind us how fleeting life can be. How, in the shutter of an eye, the universe can change. How quickly the world will take what’s given. Yet, we carry on, with bruised hearts and torn skin, because we love, and that’s what gives us purpose. Air gives us breath. Food gives us strength. And love gives us hope. In a world of monsters, love makes us human.
We love knowing that it can be taken away. And when it is, I guess we stay hopeful that it’ll return to us somehow.”
He’s still the scarred boy who touched my heart. And I’m the wounded little bird, whose wings he made fly again.
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With a chuckle, I lift my gaze past them, and notice the figure again, standing beneath the tree, where he smiles back at me. I wave at him. He waves back. And without having to close my eyes, or say the word, he disappears.
