Bedroom: Noah loves the color blue. His room - though drab and simple with shades of brown and white - has highlights of the color in every corner. There isnât a day where he doesnât spread his bed (albeit sloppily) and the six pillows he sleeps with every night is more of a guilty pleasure than anything. Everything is kept organized and out of the way for the most part. It almost seems as if no one lives in there.
Ride: He drives a blue 2010 Mazda 3 Hatchback. Itâs a far cry from the luxury sports cars he had before losing all of his money, but Noah canât complain. He loves this car so much that he named her Debbie. But because of gas prices and other expenses that are more important, he doesnât drive too often. Usually he walks to where he needs to go.
Last Meal: Pasta has always been a favorite for Noah, but his favorite kind is spaghetti. It was the one thing he ate day in and day out after coming to LA from Seattle (it was super cheap, and he didnât have many options). Itâs a wonder he doesnât hate the dish by now; it reminds him of one of the turning points in his life, and he craves it whenever heâs going through hard times.
Handwriting: Since Noahâs parents made him go to an etiquette school when he was younger (to blend in with the rest of the rich kids), Noah has learned that concise penmanship makes a great impression. He denies that, though, but it shows up in his careful forming of each letter and tight grip on his writing utensils. Secretly, heâs insecure about what his writing says about him, so the letters in his writing are small and close together to reflect that subconscious thought.
Reneeâs lips quirked in the corner at Noahâs admission, though it still felt like there was something off about the entire thing - perhaps it was the fact that his laugh sounded forced. Really, he wasnât terribly good at this acting thing from her perspective. Brows raised at his answer, to which she offered an immediate challenge, viewing his comment as an open-door type invitation for her to press further. âNot terribly taboo or worth the fuss. Are you sure you werenât thinking more along the lines of stoned, drunk, high?âÂ
âHell no,â she answered, voice tinged with the slightest bit of disgust. âI havenât the patience to teach nor the education for medicine. Itâs more like trivia picked up along the way.â At his smirk, she wondered what had him feeling so self-satisfied, until he answered. Hm, he thought he had the upper hand in this? She certainly didnât think so. âI already know everything I need to,â she said with the shake of her head. âUnless youâre going to outright deny that you believe, then you do. And thatâs enough.â
It Noah had to regret one thing now, it was missing out on drama classes in school. He could pass off little lies here or there if they had some truth in them (as he rationalized that it wasnât actually lying), but to tell a bold-faced lie about something that really influenced him needed a more convincing set-up. One that he obviously blew by the raising of her eyebrows. He flinched horribly at the word âhigh.â Even now the word brought back so many flashbacks. âIâve done things Iâm not proud of, okay?â He finally said with an exhale, âItâs not like Iâm the first person to do it, and I wonât be the last.â This way he was admitting to something, but didnât give her the satisfaction of knowing what, exactly. It was the best response.
Her disgust piqued his interest. What was so horrible about tending to others? Personally, he wouldnât dare to, so he couldnât blame her entirely. When he heard her words, he imagined her frequenting bars for their trivia nights. And he said as much: âOh really? Which bar do you go to for trivia nights? Iâd love to watch you play sometime.â It was hard to believe that she knew everything she needed to know about him from a single discussion. âMy thoughts exactly.â She seemed to be a fierce, no-nonsense person who looked down on others. It actually troubled Noah that they had a few things in common, personality-wise. âI was, but now that you said that, Iâm at a loss for words. So Iâll tell you what I do believe in, then. Seeing actual evidence. Solving problems with no loose ends. If you canât help me with any of those things, then Iâm afraid this conversation is no good for me.â
Isadora snorted. âUh, you donât need a paper trail, you leave a paper trail. Think about that shit rationally. Where do these hypothetical vans come from? Where do they get their gas? Who drives âem, and who pays the drivers? The thing about conspiracies is that they break down when itâs details time. The truth is in the masses of messy, messy details. Why are you so into denial? Does it help you sleep at night?â
âRational is what I do. I was only saying that itâs possible to move people around without a trace. If someone with power...or the goverment was behind this, I wouldnât be surprised if they provided all the supplies. But every conspiracy is based on some truth. It needs to be separated from the lies, is all. The details arenât messy if you think them through long enough. Iâm not in denial. Iâm a skeptical person who doesnât fall for anything. No, but what does help me sleep at night is a glass of warm milk. Or counting sheep.â It was obvious that Noah wasnât serious. Some nights he couldnât sleep because his mind wouldnât stop thinking of the theories out there. Proving she was right wasnât smart, though. âAnd you? I like to think you sleep with tons of blankets.â
Belial smirked, but there was a harsh edge to his smile that, if anyone knew what to look for, would take it as a warning. Regardless, it was gone in a flash, and Belial was shining his pearly whites at the ornery bartender and fishing a few dollars out of his pocket, âCanât help a guy for a being a little chatty, can you? I spend so much of my time having to listen to the sob stories of people flitting through my own bar, figured I might have a sympathetic ear.â He set down the money on the counter, and pulled his drink closer to himself as he shifted his gaze to the mirror behind the bartender and watched the patrons flit about behind him. âBy all means, donât let me distract you from your very, busy evening.âÂ
Noah felt wary of the customerâs smile; he hadnât seen anyone smile since the disease had been public news. âNo. Sob stories? Maybe you should check the quality of your customer service? I donât need sympathy. I need answers to this disease.â Sure, Noah had heard a few complaints here and there from his place behind the bar, but they definitely werenât stories. Nor were there sobs involved. Lately, he had been paying more attention to the words of others in hopes that he could gather some new information about this so-called âcrisis.â But he took up the money once it was placed on the counter (a little too eagerly) and counted it. It had been more than what he expected - as he wasnât expecting anything at all - and he pocketed the currency with a smirk. âYou helped me out, so the least I can do is return the favor.â Hey, he got paid to talk. He might as well do so. âMy evening just so happens to be free now. Whatâs this really about?â The customer owned a bar. Noah assumed it had to be busy at this time, all sob stories aside. Why step into Absolution?
Kiara squeezed the bridge of her nose with her fingers, trying to keep her annoyance in check. It seemed as if she had been snapping at people left and right lately. Maybe it was the lull in the research causing her to be a little more frustrated than usual. And well, Noah did have a tendency to bring it out in her. âSo now you care,â she replied with a huff. âShe has it, Noah. I freaking wish she had the common cold because then I wouldnât have to worry about her dying, but she doesnât.â
Noah rolled his eyes. Give it to a party girl like Kiara to be overly dramatic about what was going on. She couldnât be taken seriously by all means. For all Noah knew, she could be under the influence of something. âI never said I didnât care. But now that Oliviaâs allegedly a part of this, Iâm more involved. According to you, she doesnât. Thereâs no point in wishing for something once itâs already been set. So whatâs your next move, Dr. Rafael? Iâm curious.â
 I donât want this, itâs too big.
     Â
      Thatâs what Jesus said. Yes, I had to tell him. I was forced to deliver the news to a scared child who wanted nothing more than to play with other children. I had to tell this little boy that He was Godâs only Son, and that it meant a life of persecution and eventual crucifixion at the hands of the very people He came to enlighten and redeem. He begged me to take it back, as if I could. He begged me to make it all not true. And Iâll let you in on something, [Noah], this is something Iâve never told anyone before⌠If I had the power, I would have.
What can I say? Theyâre at risk. Diseases have thrived in these conditions since the beginning of mankind, simply because their immune systems arenât as strong as they need to be to fight them off.Â
Youâre not â Noah, thousands more will die from this, possibly millions. Â Have you no sympathy for them? Or do I have to tell you that Olivia has it? Because she has it, you idiot.
âThen make a super vitamin. Hand them out to the kids with their sugary cereals. Take a handful to assisted living sites. Weâre all going to die anyway, so Iâm not seeing the danger here. And itâs hard having sympathy for people you donât know. Projecting feelings onto complete strangers...Wait...Olivia? Olivia Cross? She canât have this disease; itâs not real! You have to be confusing it with a common cold...â
âYeah,â she replied quickly, dropping her eyes to the floor as she all but scuffed at it with the toe of her sneakers before she realized that if she left a mark that it would be up to her to clean up after it. âLost track of time anâ forgotâŚâ It wasnât much of a reason or an excuse, something that should have had her asking him to leave at the very least since she was there well past closing time but she didnât have the heart to do that even before heâd apologized for the tone of voice that left her questioning who it was thatâd walked in there that night. âOur uh, our hours change weekly too,â she added softly with a shrug of her shoulder, finishing doing a visual sweep of the floor as she picked her gaze back up again and glance around to the rest of the place that was practically closed up for the night.
âYeah, no, of course youâre not a plumber⌠or someone that could fix it, âcause if that were possible then I wouldnât have been here tryinâ my best to keep the mountain of dishes down,â she joked lightly, trying her best not to feel awkward or tense as she made eye contact once more before she cleared her throat with another smile. âA bartender. I knew a few of those.. more of 'em 'round these parts than I thought there were.â Especially for someone who didnât drink as her smile slipped for a moment when he corrected her calling him 'sirâ as she hadnât meant anything by it. With a shake of her head, Adele was already apologizing in her mind before her mouth even began to speak as she hoped he hadnât taken it the wrong way. âI didnât mean nothinâ by it,â she offered with an apologetic smile. âItâs an old habit from back home that hasnât worn off yet, not that Iâm sure itâll ever do that⌠whenever youâre talkinâ to someone you donât know, itâs always been more polite to call 'em sir or ma'am, not so much.. an age thing.â
She practically cringed when she said that, ducking her head and the rest of her back behind the counter as she all but fled to the back area that was still fully visible by him at this point and turned on one of the presses as she considered her options ( as well as the cleanest ones so she didnât have much of a mess to clean up afterwards ) as she grabbed a few ingredients from the fridge as well as one of the better loaves of bread. The older ones sheâd be taking to the local homeless shelter on her way home from work, rather than see them get thrown out as she glanced back over at him. âYouâre not⌠allergic to anythinâ are you? Iâve learned the hard way to always ask that too before tryinâ to surprise someone.â A sheepish look crossed her face as well as a red tint to the tops of her cheeks before she turned her back towards him, slicing the bread carefully as she set about to make him a sandwich. âYou donât⌠have to do that, itâs my job.. well, one of them. Anâ I should have been paying better attention to it before.â
He wondered how long she was able to keep up scuffing the floor with her sneaker before she wore out her sole. She reminded him of that movie he saw once - Bambi - because she was so jittery. Her nervousness was contagious, and Noah found himself rocking back and forth. âChanging hours? Is that, like, legal?â Now that he knew their hours fluctuated, he knew he was better off visiting the cafe at an earlier time if he really wanted to get a sense of how it operated. He knew first impressions were everything, but he wasnât going to take this one into account. This was like the blooper reel behind a critically-acclaimed movie. So he hoped.
âWhat makes you say that? I donât have a plummer vibe?â A smile tugged on the corner of his lips, responding to what he thought was a joke. She seemed to be extremely fragile, so he was watching his words now. Good thing his parents made him take those Etiquette School lessons some time ago. He could play this safe. âYeah? I think alcoholâs replaced water as a renewable source.â He watched her smile slip and he was afraid he said something offensive. âItâs all good. All good. Donât worry about it! Please.â The entire floor had to be covered with eggshells as lightly they were going about this conversation. He knew about the being polite thing, but now that he was older and away from his parents, he didnât bother with it as much. It just dawned on Noah that she had an accent. âWhereâre you from?â
He furrowed his brows, leaning over the counter to see where she had ducked off to. Where was she going? This mustâve been a new age for customer service; Noah had never experienced anything quite like it before. âUh...you okay?â But he saw her turn on one of the presses and take things out of the fridge, so he assumed she was doing just fine. âDonât think so.â The last time he checked, he didnât have any, but after reading that allergies had a chance of developing over time, he wasnât so sure. He cringed as he thought about the âhard wayâ she learned about food allergies and convinced himself he had a decent day (just in case this was his last). She was preparing him a sandwich, and he had to admit it was better than the muffin he was going to buy in order to save money. âBut I insist.â Honestly, he didnât want to wash dishes he took no part in dirtying, but he already put the offer out there, and wasnât going back on it. âYou have more jobs? Like what?âÂ
Olivia sat making sure her carry on bag had everything she needed within reach while Noah stared up at the board in front of them. She had an inherent smile on her face that hadnât been able to go away since theyâd started traveling. And now Spain?! Wicked! To the (current) red-head, things felt as if there was already adrenaline pumping through her veins even just when she thought about what possible sites and scenes theyâd be seeing in this amazing country. To her, the cost of this wasnât even in her mind. Sheâd asked her parents, theyâd given and that was that.
At his question, she squinted her eyes and looked up at the ceiling for a minute, trying to wrack her brain for the word she was looking for. âBaĂąo.â She said after a few moments. âÂżDĂłnde estĂĄ su cuarto de baĂąo?â Sheâd taken it upon her self to learn a few key phrases that she knew would be an absolute must. If they got caught somewhere, she at least wanted to be able to say the things that would get them out of jams or keep them out of harms way. She found her way onto the plane and immediately took the window seat. Even as a child sheâd loved flying. She used to sit and watch all the little people, marveling as the world looked like some kind of weird multi-colored circuit board, the clouds surrounding the plane. As soon as Noah sat beside her, she took a deep breath, leaning back in her seat, her head on the headrest. First class. Nothing but the best.
At his joke, she turned around and stuck her tongue out at him before reaching forward and hitting him lightly in the arm. âStop making fun of my hair! It looks amazing, thank you very much.â She said, reaching up to smooth it down. âYouâre never going to get tired of doing that to me, are you?â She asked, giving him the side eye. At his last question, she answered as they took off, reaching forward for her carry-on. âLucky for you, I wrote down a few things we might want to see. Theyâre having a special exhibit at Museo Nacional del Prado. I figured we could at least stop thereâŚsee what we can see.â She gave the flight attendant her drink order and turned back to Noah. âThen thereâs this place called Alhambra. Itâs like a castle and a garden and a fortress. I think itâs going to be beautiful. And then we can do what we always do which is wander around until we find something cool.â She reached for her camera. âAnd document everything.â
Noah couldnât remember how he and Olivia had chosen to go to Spain. Was it a drunken night? Something they decided on while watching movies? Whatever it was, he was glad it happened. And glad his parents let him go, too (though he lied and told them it was an extension of his Etiquette School lessons to learn about other cultures). They were too easy to fool at times.
âRight. That.â He already lost the word after he heard her say it, and the phrase that followed went over his head. How was he going to survive in case something happened? Heâd be out of luck, thatâs what. This wasnât his first time flying, so he was numb to all of the wonders of the process. He knew what they said about the journey being more important than the destination and such, but when the journey was the same each and every time, the destinations looked even better. Even better than first class. But he couldnât imagine being anywhere else.
He laughed as she smoothed down her hair. âI can get you a dinglehopper for that.â Trying to stay serious about her hair was the toughest thing about this trip. Why did she make such a drastic change? Was it for fun? Something deeper? âNope. Not a chance in Atlantica.â It didnât surprise him that she already had things written down. She seemed to have such wild ideas about everything. âYeah, that sounds cool! What is that, like a museum?â One of the words were close enough to their English counterparts. Noah turned down the flight attendantâs offer for a drink. Once they had everything planned out about this trip, maybe then could he relax. âSure. But we have to try some of the food, too.â There was nothing like a good meal to really convince him he was in a new place. âHow could I forget?â He gestured to her camera, âThe Little Mermaidâs favorite thingamabob!â
Poor man. There were some people meant to hide secrets and others such as he who were apparently not capable of sitting on their demons and secrets without indicating their existence in a fashion. She didnât - couldnât - know which particular vice they were talking about, or rather avoiding talking about, but it didnât matter. He had one and sheâd exploit it, why not? âIs it? Something tells me your particular indulgence isnât cartoons when youâre bored.â
At his assessment, she shrugged. âI just know my history,â she answered, âBad flu years tend to operate in the same way - ignored until itâs too late.â Lips quirked in the corners at his response and the way it struck her as avoidance. âThat sounds like a yes without saying so to me. So, no I donât think I need to be more specific.â
There were two ways out of this: To admit all wrongdoings whole-heartedly or to be sly with the reveal. And Noah hated going through his past. âYou got me.â He let out a fake laugh; if playing along to this line of questioning would get her to drop it, then so be it. âCartoons are so much fun to watch when youâre...having sex.â Because it was much easier (and socially acceptable) to admit to having sex than it was to having done illegal drugs. Maybe sheâd be so turned off by his response that it wouldnât matter which indulgence he was actually referring to.
âHm.â He nodded, taking in her explanation. To him, she held an air of importance, and that was all too simple an answer. âAre you a history teacher? Or do you work in the medical field?â He smirked at her assumption on conspiracy theories. She was smarter than he thought, not that he had been doubting it. But it was he who was getting the last laugh. âThen I canât answer your question. Hopefully you didnât need to know.â
âPeter Pan reference. Nice. Next youâll be talking about imaginary food, and hook-handed pirates. Which, ultimately, would be more fun to hear about then people dying of the Black Plague in the twenty-first century over the radio.â Belial had heard countless stories flitted through the air on radio waves, but this new one that spoke of an almost sentient disease seemed the most far-fetched. And he was a demon. Sure, there was something out there killing, but he was more of the belief that it was a someone, and not a thing at all. âIf you donât believe in that stuff, why not just turn it off. Chatting with you customers has got to be infinitely more fun, after all.â
âNope. Thatâs where youâre wrong. Unlike the popular song, I do not believe in magic. Sorry I couldnât entertain you.â Noah didnât know what this customerâs deal was, or why this conversation was dragging on longer than it needed to be. He couldnât be the only victim of these strange, random talks. âBecause it pays to know whatâs going on around you. The worldâs a bit more dangerous when you donât. Maybe. Except I donât get paid to talk. But if youâre willing to hand over a few more bucks so I can keep my lights on this month, Iâd be happy to carry on.â
Itâs not homework when Iâm right in the middle of it. Itâs my life. Well, uh⌠ prisons are notorious for having crappy food and even worse healthcare. Add in the fact that thereâs a pretty dense population of people in a limited amount of space. Iâd say itâs pretty simple. They got sick because their immune systems were compromised due to a combination of poor diet, lack of access to decent healthcare, and living conditions that made it easy for the disease to transmit one person to another.
Trust me, Noah. You want to see it come soon.
âHomework is life for students sometimes, just saying. Hold up. So youâre telling me that the prisonâs conditions were the right environment for the disease? Poor diet...lack of access to decent healthcare...and living conditions easy for the disease to spread describe those who live in poverty, too. What can you say about them? Are they all going to die tomorrow? Yeah, well...Iâm not going to hold my breath.â
âYou ever actually been to prison, huh buddy?â Naomi practically snapped at him, head turning sharply while her brows narrowed into a more serious gaze. âOkay i will admit some people deserve to be in prison, like rapists and murders and animal abusers â  but what about people who are wrongly convicted? Or those who are in there for something as simple as tax evasion? So yes. Those poor people. I hardly think a death as tragic as this is fair upon those people.â She looked at him and gave him a rather faux smile, sheâd been around inmates to know that not everyone is a monster. The stories she had heard during her time were testament to that fact.Â
âSomething against them? No. Never said that.â She simply shrugged at the man, arms folding across her chest in a rather defensive manner. She was stubborn, and she could easily admit that out loud. âI just thought that if the disease was maintained to single locations it would be easier to quarantine the areas. But youâre right. Guess Chad is the exception and the flaw in my thought.â
Almost. Noah almost went to jail about three times in his life, but telling her that would make him look bad. Maybe get him laughed at. So he ignored the question. âWoah.â He kept calm, but took a step back, âTragic or not, caused by a fake disease or not, death is coming for us all. Itâs not fair, but thatâs just how everything works.â Taking in her faux smile with a look of caution, he wondered if she knew someone in that prison. How else would that explain her strong reaction?
âFine. You win.â There was no point in trying to prove how her words mightâve sounded antagonizing - unless he wanted to spend the entire day doing so. She gave off the impression that she wasnât one to back down easily. âQuarantine is only a state of mind. Nothing is perfectly contained. And if someone tells you that, theyâre lying. Trying to figure this thing out is hard when there are so many factors. What are you doing to protect yourself from whatever this voracitosis is?â He thought a slight change in subject would be better for them both.
Hereâs a little something I put together! Title is... âJoshua Osborne: Modern Day Martyr!â I was going for an 80s movie poster aesthetic. Like Chvrches meets Back To The Future? Lol. :) I hope you like it!Â
                          - Sending you lots of joy, Denver (aka Noah)Â
(This is for Challenge 001: Songs of the Past. Noahâs song is âNo Church in the Wildâ by Jay Z & Kanye West, so hereâs my take on that. Itâs character development...in reverse. This got really dark, so itâs under one of those read-mores in case this isnât your thing.)
Date: November 15th, 2013
Location: Pleasure Island (A club in Seattle)
The club lived up to its name tonight: Pleasure Island. The scholar in Noah told him it was actually a reference to Pinocchio, being named after that island that the boys were taken to to do whatever they wanted, but the joy-seeker in him...well...it was more pleasures of the flesh and senses than anything. And thatâs what he was indulging in, up in the safety of the VIP section. With a few linesâ worth of cocaine under his nose and bodies sprawled out on top of his on the couch there, he was living the life.Â
And so was everyone else.Â
Noah wasnât much of a dancer, sober or not - but from his vantage point he could see it all. There were people everywhere, drinking and grinding on each other to the latest song; some top forty hit that was way too loud to recognize. In one corner there was a fight of some sort, with injuries and tears (which Noah watched in amusement). Oh, and was that a drinking competition amongst friends? One that ended halfway through because one of them had to be dragged out of the building. Everything was happening on a weeknight, too. Why live for tomorrow when you can live for today?
âWhere the wild things are.â Noah hadnât realized he said that out loud. Well, he must have, because that one Jeremy guy stirred from his place across his lap and smiled lazily.
âMan, I loved that book.â
âWhat?âÂ
Jeremy laughed. âWhere The Wild Things Are!âÂ
âThatâs not a book.â Was it? Noah thought about waking the girl beside him and asking. His memory was too hazy now.
âUh-huh! My mom used to read it to me all of the time! There was this kid, and there were monsters...â
The word âmonstersâ made Noah laugh. âYou know what? Everyone should dress up as monsters! We could get costumes, and music, and food, and costumes...â
âBut what if...what if the real monsters are within?â Jeremyâs eyes were huge and his bottom lip trembled. âLike, in us?â
Noah mightâve been high as a cloud, but there was no such thing as monsters. Literal or figurative. He rolled his eyes. âShut up.â
âI want to be Cookie Monster. Heâs awesome.â
Ugh. Jeremy. He was such a pain! He became Noahâs sidekick once he moved down to Seattle and started making a name for himself as The Richest Kid Ever. And there was something about being a leader to the slacker that made Noah want to keep him around. An ego boost, was what it was. Someone to do the dirty work. Noah took out a roll of money and handed it to his lackey. âBe a weatherman and bring us more snow.â Anything to get rid of him. Just for a second.
âCan I be Superman?â
âWhatever! Just go!â
Jeremy scurried off, oblivious (or too dense to care?) about Noahâs anger, leaving Noah to revel in his own power. He was on top of the world right now. He wasnât some lowly, ânouveau richeâ kid in Beverly Hills. Here, he was a king. He had everything others dreamt about, and everything to be dreamed about. Followers, admirers...Why didnât he move out here sooner? So this was what it was like to rule. Noah had read so much about the reigns of royalty in school, but to actually experience it? Amazing. He felt like throwing money in the air. And he could. Noah reached into his pocket again for more money...to find out that there was none of it left.
 No. No no no no no. This couldnât be happening.
Maybe he was hallucinating again? Yeah. He had to be. Another search of his pockets told him that he wasnât. And his world immediately crumbled. He was broke. The Noah Jackson, The Richest Kid Ever, was actually...broke. And to make matters worse, Jeremy returned.
Jeremy strolled over to the couch, biting his lip in what Noah could only guess was contemplation. He sat one of the bodies upright and took a seat next to Noah. âSo...guess what, babe?âÂ
Babe. It was a name Noah wasnât exactly proud of. He hated to admit it, but sometimes his relationship with Jeremy wasnât always a âhero-sidekickâ one. It was one of those mistakes that just kept on happening because Noah loved being needed and was too full of himself to turn someone who was so devoted to him away.
Noah stayed silent; maybe if he acted like he wasnât here, heâd wake up somewhere rich and not about to freak out.
âLooks like Superman found his Kryptonite.â Jeremy said, holding up the smallest bag of cocaine Noah had ever seen. âCouldnât get your usual.â He shook the bag, chuckling. âDude, itâs like Christmas in California, am I right?â
It took everything in Noah not to reach over and choke the life out of Jeremy. This was no laughing matter. Not a game. It was all over, and Noah had to pretend like it wasnât. He took the bag from Jeremy, turning it over in his hands for a bit, in disbelief that this was where the last of his money went. He shouldâve been a little smarter with it all, but validation was expensive. âHere comes the sun.â
âI love that song.â
âItâs not a song.â
âIt so is.âÂ
Major deja vu. Noah shook off the feeling and opened the bag. Poured the contents out on the table in front of him. He and Jeremy dove into the drug like hungry animals. It wasnât until Noahâs second line that his nose began to burn. It never happened to him before, and he figured it was a passing thing. But he wiped at his nose with the backside of his hand, and nearly fainted when his hand came back dripping with blood.
âYeah...you might want to stop...?â Give it to Jeremy to point out the obvious.
Why was everything falling apart? Noah sprung up from the couch, gave Jeremy that much-needed shove, and ran out of the club. No one could see him like this: Broke. Bloody. Burning with embarrassment. So this was when the inhabitants of Pleasure Island turned into donkeys. This was when the pleasure turned into pain. And it had to be raining outside! It was like salt in the wound, really. Without his money, Noah was lost. Worthless. Another kid on the street. A king without his crown.Â
He sat on a curb, head in his hands, his blood mixing with the rainfall. Why didnât he see this coming? Why didnât he think - for a second - that his money would run out eventually? He grew up with money, and was now going to die without it. The tears fell before he could stop them. He knew others flocked to him because of what he had. And now that he had nothing, he had no one. What was he going to do now? Was there even a next step? Did he even want to take it? The motivation to live was getting less and less by the second. Who was Noah Jackson now without the money and ridiculous title?Â
It mightâve been another hour or two before Noah had the strength to get back up again. He was going to have to start all over again. Go home. Face his parents. And redefine himself.Â
That last one was the key: redefining. There was no way Noah would let himself feel this pain again. This disgusting hatred of himself. So he planned from this day forward to make himself a better person. To focus on pursuits of the mind instead of the physical. The new Noah Jackson didnât believe in kings, or such visions of grandeur. He only believed in himself.
