File #14

As I drifted into sleep, my thoughts meandered back to the memory of my tenth birthday, a day forever etched in my mind.

It was a day of celebration, laughter and games, yet Lord's apathy cast a shadow over the festivities.

The backyard was filled with children, their excited voices mingling with the sweet scent of birthday cake. My new friend, Emma, with her solitary disposition, stood at the periphery, her presence almost unnoticed amidst the crowd.

I had always struggled to remember her name, a consequence of her quiet nature that often left her overlooked.

The group of kids decided to play hide and seek, and I, overcome by exhaustion, retreated to my secret hideaway—the super-secret megabase that Lord often mocked.

It was my sanctuary, a place where I could escape the chaos of the world, even if just for a moment.

However, my childish curiosity led me astray that day. As I wandered through the nearby woods, I stumbled upon a beehive, hanging delicately from a branch. In my hand, I grasped a stick, innocent enough in its simplicity.

Ignoring the consequences, I decided to poke the beehive, my youthful mischief getting the best of me.

I was so dumb as a child but I'm wiser and a "mature teenager".

In an instant, the air was filled with buzzing wings and agitated bees. Panic surged through my veins as the swarm descended upon me, their tiny bodies moving in unison. It was as if they feared bears, for they pursued me relentlessly, their stingers poised for attack.

Amidst the chaos, Lord's face remained hidden, his expression a mystery to me. Together, we fled, our feet pounding against the earth as we sought refuge from the angry swarm. In a moment of desperation, he pushed me into a patch of grass, a move that saved me from the relentless assault of the bees.

Later, when I recounted the incident to my father, he expressed his concern and took action.

The gardener, who had unknowingly placed me in harm's way, faced repercussions for his negligence. To my surprise, my father rewarded him with a raise instead of termination, reasoning that he had taken the blame to protect me.

But it was Lord's violent response to the beehive that lingered in my memories. In my dreams, it transformed into a nightmare—a vision of him pummeling the beehive into a gruesome mess.

Even my father believed it was a natural reaction to the fear of being chased by a swarm of bees, but deep down, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it.

Lord had always been a puzzle, an enigma that defied easy interpretation. That incident, and the violent display that followed, left an indelible mark on my young mind.

It was a side of him that clashed with his aloof demeanour, a contradiction that I struggled to comprehend.

As sleep overcame me, I was left with the haunting image of the Lord, his face filled with a mixture of ecstasy and brutality, as he obliterated the beehive.

It was a glimpse into his violence, a side that I couldn't ignore or forget. The realization that the Lord was a complex and enigmatic individual gradually unfolded before me, unravelling the layers of his true nature.

Yet even in my constant thinking, even after I tried asking him he only got more and more confusing it was as if he was really edgy...wait he is so...

*sigh*

"...I really wish my dreams were normal" as she drifted back into dreamland.

As the crackling flames of the campfire danced before me, casting flickering shadows upon the worn faces of my companions, I found myself slipping deeper into the labyrinth of my memories. The weariness in my bones begged for respite, and sleep soon claimed my restless mind.

It was within the realm of dreams that the true essence of my being unfurled—a tapestry woven with obsession, longing, and a deep-seated need for belonging.

In the shifting landscape of my subconscious, I was transported back to a time when innocence and vulnerability held sway over my thoughts. The echoes of a shattered family reverberated through my mind, each fragmented piece of the past playing its part in shaping the person I had become.

Divorce—the word itself held a bitter taste, like the remnants of a forbidden fruit. It severed the ties that had bound my parents together, tearing asunder the once blissful facade of familial unity. It was a jarring awakening, a piercing realization that even the most idyllic of portraits could be marred by hidden cracks.

My mother, a young and hopeful soul, had dared to confront my father when she discovered his betrayal—a betrayal that had left its indelible mark upon her spirit. In a cruel twist of fate, her courage had cost her life, leaving me with an insatiable hunger for answers, a void that could never be filled.

It was on that fateful day, as I sat outside the walls of our humble abode, grappling with the weight of my existence, that fate took a peculiar turn.

A child, with an appearance as whimsical as the pages of a storybook, materialized before me. He exuded an air of arrogance as if he held the secrets of the universe within the depths of his eyes.

In his unconventional manner, he posed a question that defied reason, "Do you mind being my custom accessory?" The words lingered in the air, a discordant symphony that danced upon the tendrils of my consciousness. It was a proposition shrouded in absurdity, a proposition that defied logic and societal norms.

Yet, within the chaos of his audacious query, I discovered a twisted sense of solace. For the first time in my life, I felt wanted, and needed even, in this strange and unconventional bond. The void left by my mother's absence seemed to diminish, if only for a fleeting moment.

I became the silent companion to this enigmatic child, a shadow trailing behind him as we wove through the tapestry of the city's forgotten corners.

Together, we delved into realms that defied imagination, exploring the hidden enclaves of our shared dreams. We were misfits, born from the ashes of loss and isolation, seeking solace in each other's presence.

Through whispered secrets and unspoken understandings, we forged a connection that defied the limitations of a world that had failed to comprehend our peculiarities.

The obsession became the undercurrent of our existence—a relentless pursuit of elusive truths and untamed desires. We revelled in the ecstasy of clandestine adventures, weaving tales that danced on the edge of reality and fantasy. Our shared silence spoke volumes, a language only the two of us could decipher.

And amidst the trials and tribulations of our unconventional companionship, the fabric of our bond was woven with casual banter, lending levity to our journeys.

"Hey, Krista, you ever wonder what's hiding in the shadows?" he would ask with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

I would scoff playfully, pretending to be unfazed. "Please, like there's anything out there that could scare me."

He would chuckle, his voice tinged with an odd mix of amusement and mystery. "You say that now, but wait till we stumble upon something truly otherworldly. It'll blow your mind."

Our conversations were filled with cryptic remarks and tantalizing hints, each word a breadcrumb leading us deeper into the labyrinth of our shared imagination.

As we ventured into the depths of forgotten alleyways and explored abandoned buildings, our youthful spirits intertwined, emboldening us to defy the boundaries imposed by the world around us.

But it was more than just the thrill of adventure. It was the sense of being seen and understood, of finding solace in the presence of a kindred spirit. The scars of our pasts may have shaped us, but within the confines of our shared dreams, we were free to rewrite our stories.

In the grip of obsession, my mind danced with memories of those stolen moments—moments where we revelled in the ordinary and found solace in the extraordinary. As I traversed the shifting landscapes of my dreams, the casual tone of our conversations echoed through the corridors of my mind, a reminder of the kinship we had forged in the face of adversity.

The weight of my past pressed upon my weary heart, yet the bond we had created provided a glimmer of hope, a sanctuary from the pain that threatened to consume me. In the recesses of my dreams, I clung to those memories, savouring the fleeting moments of camaraderie and youthful rebellion.

As the embers of the campfire dwindled, casting their dying glow upon my face, I whispered into the darkness, "Hold on, Sir. We may be lost in different worlds now, but I will find my way back to you."

And with those words, the echoes of our shared past slowly faded, leaving me to navigate the maze of dreams, where obsession and longing danced hand in hand, forever intertwined.