Setting Myself Free

Chapter 22~His Story

"Your turn," I said, smiling. Blake looked at me with an expression that I never saw on his face. Fear. He was deadly pale, with eyes widened, staring at me as if I wasn't even in the room.

"Fine," Blake mumbled, looking past me. "But I don't like my past."

I sighed, knowing that this was Blake's coward move to hide everything. "You made the deal, Blake. I told you everything. It's time you return the favor."

"Shannon," Blake argued. "You're going to hate me, though. I did terrible things."

After hearing what Blake said, my natural instinct came into play as I rolled my eyes. I wonder if this is how Blake felt when I was hesitant to spill my secrets. We're so cowardly. Keeping secrets to ourselves. Just like Blake had said, fear is what you release. And as humans...freedom is holding onto the past while riding into the future.

But I just want to throw my past out the window.

"Like I did any better. Trying to kill myself is so angelic," I fired back, glaring at Blake. His eyes softened, his blue orbs holding too many secrets to count.

"Well, there was no 'once upon a time.' I was just there, you know? Just a normal boy, with two adoring parents. Like...the other stories."

"You're not very poetic, Blake," I sighed. Blake rolled his eyes, telling me, I don't care. He gripped his hair as if pulling at his first memory. A memory that didn't want to be found.

Troubled.

He was troubled. I was troubled. We were all troubled. Memories. The past. Our ghosts.

Stupid.

As kids we were stupid. As teens we were stupid. And as adults...we are stupid.

"It's my birthday," I sang in a quiet voice. "The least you can do is give me a stupid present. Come on, Blake. Let's cheer to the foolishness of our past."

"I was smart when I was young. The whole image of, 'if you read, you're a nerd. If you wear glasses, we won't be your friends. If you don't like sports, then don't come near us.'"

Without thinking, I let out a gasp, pulling away. "You liked to read? Is that why you secretly like to go to bookstores?"

Blake let out an irritated sigh. "I thought this was my story to share. I didn't interrupt you when you shared."

"Ah...yes you did," I retorted. "Your expressions interrupted all." Blake shook his head, ignoring me. He always does this to me. It's like the Ignore Shannon Game. And I hate that game. How can I ignore myself?

Really, what comes down to it, is that I hate losing.

"As I was saying," Blake continued, glaring at me. "I was the normal, invisible kid, with no friends. Not that I cared. I was kind of oblivious to the world.

"When I was five, my parents told me the news. News that changed my life and made me happier."

"Blake," the young boy's father called. His father wore his old soccer jersey, which Blake hated. The young boy didn't enjoy soccer. He didn't enjoy anything. There was nothing to be happy about.

He liked to think that he was too smart for school. He believed he was too bored for his parent's talking. And his friends...well it was getting annoying talking to his walls all day.

This five year old just didn't belong in this world.

"Yes father," Blake whispered, running down the stairs. He quietly sneaked into the dining room, his mind a blank. He was never good at imaginations.