Not Your Fault
by Pretender_Mel


Jacob’s days consisted of darkness. His nights too. Darkness was his world. It surrounded him, penetrated him, blanketed his marrow and his body. He floated in darkness, listening to the faint sounds of the world revolving around him in another dimension. He would never be a part of that world again. All he had was gone. Vanished on that night of rain and yelling and pain, then the darkness. Into darkness was he born then, and in darkness he shall remain.

He is unable to even conjure up images of how things had been. Those have been erased. All he has left is the single image of a photograph, and it is what sustains him. Two young men, healthy and in the prime of their lives, standing side by side, grins painting their faces. Sydney, he whispers silently to the darkness. Sydney, it’s not your fault. The darkness says nothing in reply.


End.