"What kind of company is anger? Permanent; destructive; protecting? How can it filter into every emotion I feel? How I wish it would just colour me red, or then leave me feeling blue- I am so tired of experiencing so many hues."
- Zion Lockwood;
Zion cycled back through the backroads, but even the rolling hills, the green, green grass, or the smooth, straight road, did not stop Zion's head from dancing to the sinful melody of thoughts.
Neither did the deafening volume of his music.
So he stopped his music.
He stopped his lightning speed and peddled leisurely.
Everything was silenced, only the cool gusts of wind were heard.
Zion hadn't thought in days. Not truly. Not really.
Now, when he finally gave himself the opportunity, he drew blank. Every thought was battling to be heard, and attended to, but it was all merely noise- nothing with merit or direction.
Like a canvas painted black, only black, no more than black- there's something and there's nothing. Dark and impassive.
So Zion stopped completely. His feet planted on the road. His hands hung heavy by his sides. He stopped. Completely.
And then something came. Like a knife to the heart laced with sugar.
A memory. A moment. The past-
They cycled the backroads, where it was peaceful and beautiful. Where they could talk- freely.
They were young. They had their troubles.
"I think my father might leave." Zion had finally spoken-
Finally admitted.
His hands grasped the handlebars tighter. But with him beside him, Zion remained composed. And when he was ready he could unravel- freely.
"It's probably for the best," Zion continued, his voice wavering ever so slightly. "He makes mother's life Hell."
"What do you want?" he asked, knowing Zion had tried to fix what wasn't broken- just merely unmatched.
Zion inhaled. Deeply. "Peace," he said. "I want peace. My home is something of a battlefield and I'm so sick of fighting."
Zion turned to him, tears streaming down his pained face. Zion came apart.
"I want to see mother smile," Zion's voice cracked, and as a whole, he shattered. "I'm so angry, T."
"I know."
They stopped cycling. They let their bikes drop.
They hugged.
"I won't ever leave you, Zion," he lied. "I'll bring you to my grave if needs be."
They chuckled.
They cycled.
He left.
Zion blinked. His cheeks tear soaked. He looked around at no more than mountains and loneliness-
"You said you'd never leave," he whispered.
His head bowed. No one hugged him.
"I miss you, T."
YOU ARE READING
The Strays
Teen Fiction*Disclaimer this is a first, unedited draft; reader's discretion is advised* Guided by letters from the past, after being separated from their other half, The Stray's knitted friendship journey through their last, unknowing summer being as they had...
