Status: In the making.
Not Your Fault
Prologue.
He was simple, until he opened his mouth. He wore the posture and structure of a respectable man, but his insides were still painted bright colors. The man’s brain didn’t work the same as most. But oh, did it work.
He was handsome, dressed in a blue pressed shirt, with a bit of scruff as the only telltale sign of his hard times. The man, Nathan, had the eyes of a two year-old, soft and quiet. He was beautiful in his own way; innocent and violent at once.
He had unnaturally large and overbearing hands. His hands were the type that could easily end a life. They could handle a struggle.
Now, the man’s mind was another story. It had been fighting a struggle from birth and had the cracks and bruises to show it. It was swollen and sore from the many years of tough, tough work.
The man had grown up with only a single, hard-working mother to learn from. She had taken most of the blame in the past. She had protected and stood up for him as a mother should. Now, he lived on his own, and although he did require weekly visits from a slightly older and grayer mother, he was still fairing well on his own. Until a fiery and beautiful woman waltzed in, that is.
As a boy Nathan didn’t often associate with girls, he wasn’t a ladies man or anything of the sort. He was awkward and hopeless in that sort of thing, actually. He hadn’t had many friends either, as he grew and progressed a few came and went, as friends did. Nothing stuck though. Because of this downfall of his condition he spent most of his time reading. He read anything he could get his chubby hands on, starting with what he could find in the house; cookbooks, dictionaries, and trashy romances his mother had found at garage sales. When he was old enough his mother got him a library card and his wealth and knowledge became immeasurable. Nothing could stop him.
He had an immense amount of information packed into such a small body. He knew dates and facts that even an expert might stumble over. He was brilliant and naïve all in one. He was grace and innocence. He was a gift and a mistake, all in one small, beautiful boy.
He was handsome, dressed in a blue pressed shirt, with a bit of scruff as the only telltale sign of his hard times. The man, Nathan, had the eyes of a two year-old, soft and quiet. He was beautiful in his own way; innocent and violent at once.
He had unnaturally large and overbearing hands. His hands were the type that could easily end a life. They could handle a struggle.
Now, the man’s mind was another story. It had been fighting a struggle from birth and had the cracks and bruises to show it. It was swollen and sore from the many years of tough, tough work.
The man had grown up with only a single, hard-working mother to learn from. She had taken most of the blame in the past. She had protected and stood up for him as a mother should. Now, he lived on his own, and although he did require weekly visits from a slightly older and grayer mother, he was still fairing well on his own. Until a fiery and beautiful woman waltzed in, that is.
As a boy Nathan didn’t often associate with girls, he wasn’t a ladies man or anything of the sort. He was awkward and hopeless in that sort of thing, actually. He hadn’t had many friends either, as he grew and progressed a few came and went, as friends did. Nothing stuck though. Because of this downfall of his condition he spent most of his time reading. He read anything he could get his chubby hands on, starting with what he could find in the house; cookbooks, dictionaries, and trashy romances his mother had found at garage sales. When he was old enough his mother got him a library card and his wealth and knowledge became immeasurable. Nothing could stop him.
He had an immense amount of information packed into such a small body. He knew dates and facts that even an expert might stumble over. He was brilliant and naïve all in one. He was grace and innocence. He was a gift and a mistake, all in one small, beautiful boy.