Readers' discretion is advised. Mature readers only. If you're easily offended by young adults' unrestrained behavior toward substance abuse and sex, I recommend you to read my other stories. Thank you.

Copyright ©2012 by champagne kisses. All rights reserved.

Finding Paradise



Sunlight breaks through the blue mists, slanting through the dormer windows, into my face. From where I am sitting, little white spots form, dancing in swirl, holding me captive behind these four walls- away from the glistening world outside, accompanied by nothing but floors stacked one above the other like pile of cards.

I wonder how much longer must they imprison me here. This place is a setting for lunacy, insane, everything is sealed except for the windows above which doesn't give me much but streaks of gleaming sunlight. I want to see the trees, the grass, the flowers, of what beyond the treetops, the blanket of clouds hovering real lives... I am desperate to step on the ground, dancing on the grass, or hear the dry leaves crackling under my feet...

As I stare at the dormer windows ahead, I wonder if I can reach the tall window ledge, to actually see the ground outside- and if I jump off the window how many bones will I break?

"Don't worry, Tiara. We can still see the sky, day and night, until the angel of death decides to pluck our soul off our bodies. Then we'll be lifeless, unable to see the sunlight, the moon and stars above..." I still remember that moment clearly- and more importantly, him. His soft, tender voice like a caress on my skin, strong arms wrapped around my fragile body, the bright expression on his face...

His hazel eyes.

His innocent hazel eyes that have seen dark secret places where creeping horror lives, clear blinking orbs hold thousands of dreams for me- given me glimpse of paradise where flowers bloomed in the garden, our garden of sin. When I see him, I see nothing but promises and yearnings to close out the harshness and ugliness of reality, a home- a place where I've always wanted to be. Far away from our distorted reality.

Yes, I've always wanted to be with him, the only guy who ever loved me very much. And I'm head-over-heels in love with him too. I can't let him go. I'm never going to let him go, even if I can't see him so clearly now...I can feel him. I try to reach for him, but he's too far away- up there and he wants me to follow him, just the two of us locked inside his paradise.

But if I set my foot on the ground- the ground surface of the earth, chances that I'm fully back to the land of here-and-now; the reality. Because the earth symbolizes reality, and reality represents frustrations, death, illnesses and all encompassing tragic happenings.

How wonderful will it be, if the earth has lost its gravity? We'll be floating, wading through space with our heads up in the clouds as soon as our feet no longer touching the ground and we're chasing the sky. Because when we're up there, no beautiful illusions can be stomped upon.

"You're bound to have the best of both worlds, the reality under your feet and the illusion up in your head. Why do you need to push yourself to attain an ideal state of being when you only create this perfect-person bullshit and not learning to love the person who lives inside your skin? I've been living with pretense of perfection for eighteen years. Now you tell me how my life is not fucked up- because I think it really is and shit is getting bad each day." That other male voice plays in my head- churning and taunting, not as soft as the other man in my life, but his tone smooth and velvety- capable of waking my latent sexuality. I remember his expression well when he had those words sputtered off him, his jaw tightened, his lips quivered, and his blue-green eyes that used to fill me with unmitigated desire- looked like they've glimpsed behind the gateway to Hell...far from the paradise he'd been hoping for.

I still feel that twinge of love for him, the other guy. My love for him is very dark like shameful secrets. I know I do love him- but he scares me too. No, he is not evil, but he is not okay. One time he's solid, the next time you'll see him chasing after imaginary demons. He even let me see the scared little boy inside him, the one not many other people ever catch a glimpse of; not his parents, not Olivia and not even Jenna. The day he was locked away, Olivia found his journal which he kept under his bed, some were meticulously written, others in spiral, a sordid heartbreaking tale of an innocent little boy who was forced to become a man at young age.

From his journal, I found out he'd been wanting to find happiness. And I know he still does, even if they are just flickering glimpses. You think he'd get a respite from the pressure being crushed beneath the weight of his parents' expectation, on how they were trying to decide the rest of his life- not his own. People believe there was no history of abuse, but when you read his journal- you'd find out just how much he was tortured physically and mentally...just not by his parents.

What else can explain why he tried to put himself six-feet under?

I can't really say it now, or even wanting to remember every word in that journal. It's too painful to know that he's been hurt so bad it has gotten worse.

It also comes to my knowing that they keep him here, somewhere in this building, maybe in the other side of the wing where they keep adults of his kind. So close yet so far away as he's always been to me.

Is it possible to love two men one at a time? I love both of them.

Bobby is a bright star in the dark velvet sky of my every existence. Even with his varied flaws, I find happiness in his smiles because it keeps buoying me with hope that there is always a better day tomorrow or any time in the future.

Noah too, he's not as perfect as people expect him to be. He is more like a distant star in the dark morning sky, beautiful and ethereal- but most likely to burn brightly if you ever come closer to it.

I trace the sunken scar on my arm- a reminder of my past battle with Noah and Bobby and the rest of the world- as I pace around the silent room. It is too quite here, as intricate as frost.

Part of me still thinks I'm the good girl as I've always been to my mother, that I've never really done what I should've done. I want to believe that this is just a nightmare and I'll wake up soon- before Noah started climbing into my bedroom...before Bobby's addiction and all the secrets that came with him...

But even if I happen to wake up, I know things will never be the same.