PROLOGUE

00: people see what they want to see. 

×

A voice in your head can mean a lot of things-

-it could be your conscience, a divine interaction, or it could be the lingering whispers of someone you knew.

Someone you lost. 

A memory that comes attached with grief. 

A voice in your head could come rigid or softly and it could sometimes mean a step towards insanity. Madness. 

×

RENNÉ, PARIS. 

There was the tower, that rose above the ground in the smearing colors by the night and the risen beauty by day-

-there were the birds that made only the music that pleased their ears -the chirping in the evergreen trees of Renné. 

There were these beautiful things that stood out, that made the city a lot brighter- all of which Zach Harrison Dempsey hated so much. 

Slumped by the corner of one of the age old buildings of renaissance was Zach, his arms sunk into the soft duvet that lined across his wide bed. 

This close to three hundred pound teenager, had always risked the fact that he was close to being bed ridden, as he still gorged on some leftover pizza from the night before-

-this teenager that had being through almost all of it. 

His eyes gloomed with dark passion as he took halting breaths, matching the rising and falling of his chest, the top which served as a platform for the stained carton of pizza-

And it wasn't long till he looked to the door after a knock. 

Unsurprisingly, in came his mother, the last of anyone he ever knew. She flashed a smile from the corner of the door, swiping a strand of her marooned colored hair behind her sharp pointed ears-

-a feature that was well inherited by Zach. 

"How are you, honey?" She whispered to him as he managed to sit up on his moving bed. 

His cheeks bulged out and his lips, of the greasy remains of the pepperoni pizza, hence he struggled to speak audibly. 

She walked slowly over before sitting by his bed, the disappointment being evident in her eyes as she reached to feel his temperature with the back of her hands. 

Only of recent Zach had fallen ill, his heart was supposedly weakened by the excess fat around it, a condition wrapped around only the difficulties. 

Although she wasn't disappointed in him, she was in herself for letting him get too far. "What did you say?" 

"I can't go to that school" He replied, pushing down a burp from his recently swallowed food whilst her gaze fell upon his alarm clock, resting on the counter. 

"You have to, honey. It's a new one, you could make new friends and reinvent your self" She whispered as she put aside the empty carton of pizza before helping her son to stand out of bed. 

Pushing away the thought that she was his enabler, she swiped his pair of large black flip flops closer to where his feet could reach as he exhaled-

-exhausted from what seemed like a marathon race to his heavily pounding chest, a chest that held in the heart they both feared could give up on him anytime. 

They were all they had. 

And that was what Regina, his mother -That was all she thought as she held her son closer to her before resting upon his broad shoulders. 

"There's nothing to recreate, mom. I'm just going to be the same disgustingly fat kid i was back in Colorado-" He paused, with a crack in his self-derogatory voice. "and nothing's going to change-" He added, full of added self loathe and pessimism. 

Just a partial of what fueled his uncontrollable, often obsessive crave for food, because he could face it, food made him a lot better-

-made him forget all his pains and drown all those emotions that he loathed. 

Food was his coping mechanism especially after his brother-

"You don't have to be that kid. There's this program that is here in Ren-, that could help you g-" She was interrupted by his scoff. 

"And then what?" He asked. 

"You and I both know I'll relapse and you'd have to fix me all over again" 

"I don't have to fix you, Zach" She whispered and he scoffed, yet again. "You're always enough for me" She continued as she lifted her head from his shoulders. 

"Bullshit" He exclaimed. 

"You can be all calm and loving about this, but i see it, I see it in your face every time you look at me, what I see in everyone that walks down the street, everyone that stares at the store and at school and at church-"

"I see the disgust too. Buried in your eyes, i see t-" 

"No, I see the little boy of years ago-" She calmly said. 

"I don't see who he is now" 

"People see what they want to see and i want to see that smile, that little boy, i want to see y-" 

"But are you happy?" He was quick to ask, even quicker than she gave a response with the shake of her head. 

"Are you?-" "That is what matters" 

There was a pause as tears welled up in both their eyes, these were the times they believed all they had was each other. 

And he looked to this shirt that hung around the handle of his closet-.

-this dark large shirt with the print of his favorite artist, alongside the words that every gamer knew. 

That was also his coping mechanism. 

Secondary.

The things he loved, still afew. In no particular order, the books that he wrote and gaming with his brother. 

Things that he loved.

Because it all felt different ever since Tyler-

"Are you going to school or not?" She briskly wiped her tears. Heaving a deep sigh, she stood as she held unto the tip of his fingers. 

He managed to stand in his sized pyjamas-

"I'll try" 

Believe it or not, this was more than the extent he could go for some positivity, because for a moment, it was almost as if he wanted to smile.

Almost-

Before his eyes set upon the framed photo of Tyler, a photo that he had cut himself out of. And in that second as he stared at his infamous smirk-

-there were the hot flashes that came flooding back to him, the flashes that reminded him of that night.

"Get down!" 

There were these voices and screams that followed the sirens and the groans. These voices and screams that'll ring tauntingly in Zachary's ears-

-urging to bring back a memory of that night he couldn't seem to remember. But he could still feel the strength depart from him as he'll shut his eyes to the photo. 

Instantly, as these flashes came back, he would count to ten once he had turned away, praying that the voices would go away. The groans and the voices he could swear he heard occasionally. 

Of his brother's. 

And whenever that past came beckoning to him, all he wanted to do was stuff his face with his comfort food. 

His mother wasn't there and even though she never told him to his face, there was this part in both their hearts-

-that blamed him for his death. Tyler's. 

To be continued...