• The wall. The clean, blank wall. Standing there. Un-moving. My eyes follow the sides, the smooth surface. Looking for what? An Answer? A Flaw? Or, just looking?

    My body sat silently. The hungry mattress swallowing it slowly as it sat; dangerous eyes watching the wall. Breathing, in-hale, ex-hale, accommodated with the sound of the sad clock, I sat and watched the wall.

    My mind was racing, running through thoughts I wanted to throw away. I ignored the throbbing desires pulsing through my arms, the un-needed coo’s from my darkened thoughts.

    My right hand danced slowly down my left arm, following the sinful scars as a soft comfort swam through my body.

    My eyes focused on the creamy wall, as my mind tried to swim through massive thoughts. Why a blank wall? Is it a symbol? If so, for what? Me?

    A soft knock at my door threw me from my concentration. The wall become out of focus, as my mind was smeared like a child’s face with cake. Who dared to disturb someone like me?

    My head turned slowly, until it was watching the door. My eyes moved, cool and calm, like a slow river.

    The knock sounded again. Could I keep silent, making it seem I was not there? Or, could I call out, softly to see who, or what it was?

    I bit my lip, thinking. Sad. That is the only word to describe it. It was so hard of me to think of a single choice.

    Before catching myself, I felt my lips move. How weird my voice sounded as I called toward the door.

    My eyes, turning now to a happy glare, watched with fake vision as the door opened slowly. A face peered at me from the shadowed hall.

    A face. A familiar face, trust worthy and sweet. I felt my lips twitch, almost a smile.

    My mind rolled over the sight in front of me like a sweet, hard candy dulling as you sucked upon it, “Hello...” was the only thing I said in a soft, innocent voice.

    “Aren’t you looking well,” the young man walked in. He was still young, one year older then I, but the feel of his presence was that of a man, young, strong and smart, someone you can trust. Or can you?

    “I’ve had... a lot of help.” A small up turn of my lips turned my mouth into a sad smile, a smile that told nothing and everything. I turned my eyes to look up at him, as if I were a flower opening for the sun.

    “Spike...” he spoke my name, one word, that sent an army of goose bumps over my skin. I turned my eyes then, staring back at the wall.

    “What have you come for, Phaze?” my voice sounded soft and tired, as if I was speaking around some piece of cotton in my throat. Could I meet the concern in his eyes? The hunger burning? The beast lingering in his ash gray eyes? Again, I turned to look at him, my face expressionless.

    His frame leaned against the now closed door, his eyes trying to burn a hole through me, or maybe just to me. Something flared across his face, something I could almost swear was desire. Maybe Phaze never did change. Is it possible he is just the same boy I grew up with, the only difference now was his body being more mature? It was possible, not probable.

    His face was hidden behind a sweet, disarming, boy scout smile. “You know what I came for,” His voice was like silk rubbing inside my skull. Just then, it all hit me. Sometimes I forget myself, sometimes I wish I could. I stared at him, my mind focused on him again. Phaze, my best friend, partner in crime, came to save me.