A story about a girl who stumbles into the dark.
|Universe of Dark. By Alisha.J.Geary.
They say hate is more powerful than love. I say love is the most powerful in the universe. And I do have evidentiary support for this claim. Me.
The photoframe with a cracked surface hanging in the basement holds a photograph of the old me, the me before love. I possessed wavy, blonde hair and baby blue eyes,
glowing skin, elfish features and a smile. I possessed the beautiful emotion of happiness. And in the photograph next to me is what I also used to possess, James Ethan
But all those possessions I lost because of love. Because of my heart becoming as broken and cracked as the glass holding the old me. Because of my third possession.
Because of James Ethan Bhitlock.
James Ethan Bhitlock only had one flaw but it was enough. He had humanity. He found my hate for humanity. He lost my hope. And hope was the last thing left in Pandora's pretty box.
Now I feel there's nothing pretty in humanity. There's just hate, anger, jealousy, cruelty and intense sadness. There's just rain and stormy grey clouds up ahead. Above my head.
A head. What James lost when he threw himself in front of me, in front of the truck veering wildly off the road. Because of the driver, the human whose senses were dulled by the alcohol he consumed out of hate. Out of hate for himself and life.
I remember every tiny detail of the night when James lost his life. Every insignificant piece that led to one very significant part of my life; the night I lost him. The night I lost love. The night I lost me.
The moon had been hiding behind the grey clouds in the night sky. The night had been cold. The night had been quiet. The trees on the side of the road cast in darkness were still.
The road had been quiet and still. My heart had been the exact opposite, pounding loudly in my chest. I was all too aware of James' arm around my waist and his head in my neck. He was whispering to me, his voice like velvet in my ear.
He was telling me how much he loved me. I was leaning my head on his, a blush in my cheeks. We were just walking for the sake of being together.
We had no destination. We had no infinite purpose. We had just us. Being together.
His dark hair and my blonde mixing together. Our arm's around each other. Being close. Never wanting to let go.
Then the truck, and the driver. The hate. My life flashing in front of my eyes as the lights flashed startlingly close.
Then eternal darkness, it felt like it. But I woke up and he never did. By the time I woke up, he was in the ground, never to see light and life again. Because of me and love.
I hate me. People say it was not at all my fault but it was. I know this. I loved.
And now I am someone else. My name is not Hannah Rosewood, it is Jane Fallner. My parents are not Meg and Nathan, I have none and I don't live in Mackensville. I live in the Saint Johnson orphanage.
I don't have wavy, blonde hair but straight, black hair. I don't have baby blue eyes but dark green ones, his eyes, the ones I look into everyday of my miserable life. My skin is pale and my heart is broken.