This is just the prologue so it's a bit short. But they shall get longer & better. (I hope...)

Please review. & y'know, adding it to your Story Alerts is cool too. ;)


The name echoed in his head. And he smiled bitterly.

How could those two measly syllables cause him so much joy, but so much agony at the same time?

It killed him, just tore him raw on the inside. And just the mention – just the thought – of her felt like he was being resurrected and then brutally murdered again. Each day had become a new challenge – seeing her mirthful smile, seeing her eyes light up with glee, seeing her head tossed back in laughter; and knowing that it was because she was genuinely happy, genuinely happy with Jem.

That last name echoed in his head along with Tessa's. But the emotions associated with them weren't the same. They were darker, and he honestly regretted having them cross his mind. But he couldn't help it.

He couldn't help laying there at night, dreaming of holding her and dreaming of that fair-haired boy just dying, sometimes at his own hand, sometimes of his curse, but dying all the same.

He knew it was bad, wishing his parabatai – his best friend, his brother even – was dead. But everyday, seeing the newly engaged couple together, made those emotions swell in a dark mass, and the thoughts came to him more and more frequently.

Sometimes, he would even let the feelings take over him. He would freely let himself visualize everything he wanted oh so badly – and he wouldn't bother to stop them.

He imagined the drugs running out, his fair-haired counterpart slipping away in his sleep. He imagined Tessa coming to him for comfort, their hearts taking over; he imagined their lips clashing in an embrace; he imagined running his hands all over Tessa's warm skin; he imagined slipping her nightgown off.

He imagined it all. He just couldn't help himself.

He always opened his eyes slowly after that, the world seeming disorienting. How could this world be the real one after everything he visualized seemed so real? Why weren't his dreams real? Why? Why couldn't they be?

He mulled over that for several hours at a time until somebody broke through his wall and interrupted his thoughts.

Somebody tapped on the door, pushing it open with a slight creak. "Will?"

The dark-haired boy looked up, pain reflected in his watery eyes.