Dalton,
I loved you once. A love I thought irrevocable. A love I
mistakenly believed could transcend both time and circumstance. Under the
influence of my dimwitted, naïve, traitorous heart, I became intoxicated with
what I now know was simply a figment of my self-indulgent imagination. So drunk
on the feeling, I couldn’t see what was right in front of my face. So foolishly
enamored, I blindly followed my heart into the depths of an emotion that would
ravage me.
Years later, I know now what I wish I knew then. I am
stronger. Smarter. Tougher. I will not allow myself to be broken again.
I loved you.
I raged for you.
I wept for you.
And now, I’m letting you go.
Author’s Note: Under
the Influence is the journey of two childhood friends that spans the course of
five pivotal years in their lives. It is a story about their discovery of true
friendship as it blossoms into first love, their experience of crucial sacrifice
and ultimate betrayal, and their endurance of agonizing heartbreak on the way
to finding lasting redemption.
Dalton POV:
And that’s when I see it.
The faded bruising high on the little girl’s cheek and the red welts that line it. A
slap mark.
I force a deep
breath through my nose and crack my neck, my natural response when stricken
with memories from my own past. The rage I feed upon, the anger that fuels me
to perform on a regular basis, skims dangerously close to the surface as my
fingers tighten around the crayon in my hand.
Her blue eyes
remain locked with mine. She watches closely for a moment, studying me
intently, then rises and leans her tiny body across the table to place her palm
on my cheek.
Normally I would
strongly object to anyone I don’t know putting their hands on me, but I remain
frozen as the warmth from her hand seeps into my skin. Huge tears sprout,
coating her eyes before she finally speaks.
“You’re one of us. I can
tell.”
She removes her
hand and places it on my chest, the burning beneath my ribcage strangely anesthetized
by the contact. “I know. “
She nods as she
focuses on her touch. “It hurts here. Where they break your heart.”
When I’m barely able to
nod my response, she offers me a defeated smile. My throat clogs with emotion I
haven’t felt in years,
and I’m forced to swallow
it deeply. Her eyes fall to my throat and then rise once again to meet mine.
“Yeah, I feel it
too.”
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