Résultats de "Dylan Page" dans Toutes les catégories

How did I get here? Broken, bruised, and mentally shattered. For most of my life, my older stepbrother, Shay, was my hero, my rock, and my best friend. The one I knew I could always rely on. For many years, I accepted everyone and everything around me. But as I grew up, the veil was lifted, and I slowly came to understand how f*cked up it all really is.

My dreams are gone. I’m trapped, controlled, and defeated. I made a deal that I have to stick to, if I want to keep everyone—including myself—safe. Shay has given me an ultimatum; be his or someone I love will pay the price. I’ve been trying to figure out how to survive my new life, but the constant demand to satisfy Shay to keep Manic at bay, is taking its toll.

I am the dark notes of a song, The shadows at your back, The tears that fall from your eyes, The cool touch of the blade at your throat, The hot, burning bullet that pierces your skull. I am the writer of this story, I am the guide. The Director. I have led the pieces to their place on the board. In this arena, the game of life, I am the Master. And yet, I am nothing. I have always believed I was nothing. One with no past. No memory. Nothing. Just nothing. And yet, I have all the power. I have all the control. I am the one who chooses who lives and who dies.

Twice now my life has been altered by the choice of someone else. The first time I was ten; when my mom got married she moved us into a better neighborhood, which meant I had to leave behind everything and everyone I loved. The second time was six years later; when someone made the choice to drive instead of calling a cab, my life was once again altered and I had to move back to the place I left. Harley had always been a bad neighborhood, but things had gotten so much worse. No one should walk down the streets alone after dark, and gangs ruled everything, including the classrooms.

I have a great life. Loving parents, siblings that I adore. I’ve never gone hungry, or known physical pain. I’ve suffered no trauma… And yet there is another side of me that is… different. Where I wander, a shadow follows, something haunting and dark. It settles around my shoulders like a cloak, speaks to me when I’m alone, stares back at me from the mirror. My dark wavy hair, my silver eyes… they are reminders of him. I am cursed. I am tainted. I don’t want to succumb to the urges that strike me. The impulses that scare me. I don’t want to be like him.

This is a reenactment of the real life events leading up to the murder of Jamal Khashoggi at the Saudi Consulate