A puzzle was meant to be complicated and complex. They were meant to make you become frustrated with its mazes of curves and turns in the pieces- the same pieces that make up a beautiful picture.
But what if you had an never ending puzzle with unlim...
Guys being that I have been gone so long you need to reread the last 3 chapters to fully understand this one and to refresh your memory...reading the last chapter is a must though.
Also...sorry for the wait, the explanation for it is at the end of the chapter guys 😔😔😔
OH AND WHEN YOU SEE THESE '***' play the media from YouTube.
Perspective of Rose
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Delilah Thomas .........
I see that thing up there; the monster. I see it. Yelling and roaring and breathing fire that burns through the walls of this crumbling building. I stand there watching this-this thing scare away everything in sight. The eyes of this unknown new creation are as cold as the first day of snow in the winter, but for some reason I feel something. Something that makes me want to run. It makes me want to run like everyone else around me.
My body is refusing me though. It won't let me be normal like the crowd around me.
Why can't I run with them? Why am I always the outcast? Doing the opposite of every soul that is around me? Why are my legs denying me the satisfaction of finally fitting in with the crowd of my peers and my elders? I want to fit in. I want to run along side them. I want to be apart of the movements they make, the running in fear; I can do that. I've ran in fear before; I've scurried away from danger while trying to hold on to the little humanity that I had left. So why not now? This should be the same, right? I see a monster, my heart is racing, and I feel...fear?
Fear? It should be fear, but why is it not fear? Of course I feel a sense of fear, but it's not the fear that everyone else here is feeling. Their fear is stemming from the unknown, but mine is stemming from within me; the fear of knowing how this ends. I have seen this within myself. This boy is the face of self destruction, the effect of not having an ounce of self love. Look up nothing, and in his eyes, his picture would be the face to pop up. The only difference between me and him is his fire. That rage is so prominent that it can only be matched by hell's fire.
Me on the other hand, my self destruction is cold and silent...it goes unnoticed. My tears, my screams, my cuts, my bruises, my dimming light - they all go unnoticed. As if I'm isolated in a cold corner just waiting to die.
He's fire and I'm ice you could say.
My shaking body began to move towards him. I was fearful, not like these souls around me, but fearful that I would not be able to make it to him in time to stop him from destroying himself. I don't know who he could be, or what struggle has occurred to turn him into this raging fire spurring bull, but something is telling me to, to save him.
