The Pros and Cons of Breathing

"Lace, arent you cold?" Pete shook his head worriedly at his girlfriend, caring more for her than his own well being. He quickly took off his coat, ignoring the sharp cold that came with it, and gently placed it on Lace's thin shoulders. She mumbled her thanks, loving the warmth that came with the extra layer of clothing. Pete smiled at her happinness, blissfully unaware of what his caring would do to him, to them. They trudged happilly along.

As the pair neared their destination, a local coffee shop that they often frequented, Lace's thoughts kept up their malicious tone. She simply despised Pete, everything about him reeked of a lower class she had no buisness fraternizing with. His hair, his beloved "scene" hair, his clothes, the same ones he had worn last week. It made her sick to think that she was with someone who lived in such squalor. She had done all in her power to get rid of him; she had cheated, she had made things as clear as possible for him. But the poor lovesick fool, he had simply ignored them, telling himself it would all go away. In that regard he was right she thought devilishly, it would all be over soon.
Soon enough they entered the coffee shop, each blissfully unaware of the others intentions. However, their opposing ideas would soon collide creating something resembling hell. And hell it would be. Sweet, crazy, orchestrated hell.

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There is no way to describe a force that at once is unseen and ever present. A force with a directive that has evolved from a simple push away tactic into a full blown hatred. Forces are not supposed to be self sufficient, instead their purpose is to be supplemented by their createor, and in that way they are kept under control. A servant with thought is not a servant at all.

And so, a servant who no longer served his master, but only ihmself, set off to make misery, and unleash a hell upon a seemingly helpless man. He had no qualms about this, only thinking of the many ways he could unravel, and punish. He set off to the coffee shop with his lip curled in a sadistic manner, and his mind more malicious than his former masters.

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Things were going smoothly between Pete and Lace. There was seeminlgy nothing that could stand in the way of their love, their being with eachother. To Pete, it seemed like they were perfect for eachother. Together, they had destroyed the confines that would seemingly keep people like them away from eachother. Together, their chains had been bent, and finally broken, allowing them to see eachother freely any without consequence. To Pete, there was nothing that could stand in their way.

Lace's mind worked on another plane entirely. She had been born and raised in a society that left little room for love, or companionship. Her parents had been cruel, only caring for her as a master painter cares for a work of art; they wanted to use it to their own advantage. They would show her off, tout her accomplishments like she was some prize pony fresh off the track. Finally, she couldnt take it anymore. She had rebelled. She had found Pete. Pete was perfect. Everything about him made her father cringe in distaste. And at the time, that was what she needed. Lace had needed her fathers anger like a cocaine addict needed his next fix; she reveled in the exhileration that came with his shouts, his condemnations. But now, their time was past. She had made her point. It was time to move on.

The pair continued their conversation, one sure of the strength of his feelings, the other marveling at her own genius in concoting his demise. Ignorance works both ways.

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The newcomer entered the small coffee shop, sniffing distastefully at the smell that reeked from its kitchen. How people could live and work in such an enviroment was a mystery to him. Trying to hide his displeasure, he focused on the task at hand. He casually glanced around the dimly lit cafe, searching for his charge. He found them sitting front and center in the middle of the cafe, seemingly engrossed in eachother. That was all about to change.

He sauntered over to their table, smiling sweetly as he did so. This was a man of dangerous capablities.

"Hey baby, how you doing?" His bright white smile was blinding, a sharp contrast to the scantly lit interior of the cafe. At the sound of his voice, Lace's smile widened to epic proportions and she stood up, grabbing him and leaning in for a deep, long kiss. There hands became one in their quest to search eachother, finding something in the comfort of eachothers bodies. All the while, Pete simply sat and stared, dumbfounded at the display. Surely...surely she....no, he would banish such thoughts from his head. They had no place here. Lace had said she loved him. But...oh, how their hands moved over eachother...and their kiss was seemingly never ending! Pete quickly tried to gather himself. There had to be a reasonable explanation for this, didnt there?

Pete stood, practically jumping to his feet in his eagerness for an explanation. His movements rattled the table, causing the pair to jump away from eachother in surprise. Pete faked a thin smile, not wanting to ask but knowing he had no choice.

"Lace, who's...who's your umm, friend?" he hated the way he stumbled over his words, like a fumbling child asking for an explanation after someone takes his prize possesion away. His lovelorn mind refused to take note of what was plainly obvious here.

"Pete, I want you to meet my fiance, John." Her glee at these words was so evident that Pete took a stop back in shock. Even more obvious was her lack of feeling at openly telling him that she had used him, duped him into thinking they were something when he was just her way of getting back at her father. HIs reaction only fed the fuel to the fire in what would become remembered as a breakdown of the century.

Pete was so struck at this news that he couldnt even bring himself to form words, much less voice his feelings. His entire body shook with a numbness he was well aquainted with. He opened his mouth but no sounds came out. All the while, Lace and John stared at him, as if surprised by his reaction.

John was the first to voice his opinion. "Pete, you must understand. Lace isnt one of your little scene kids or band whores. Shes a woman of great upbringing. She deserves more than you." He sneered at Petes quavering lip and sweaty, clammy hands. "You will never be one of us" And with that, Petes entire world shattered. He had no answers, no reason for this casual dismissal. All he had was his self loathing. Pete crumpled to the floor, all color drained from his face.

His assailants stepped over his broken form, not paying him any more attention than was due to him in their twisted, elitist minds. They had already forgotten about him.

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In the sweet abscense of sanity, Pete dreamed. He dreamed of the days before there was John, before the last eight months of his life stopping making sense. His ignorance was bliss, his ignorance had been a comforting hand to guide him in the right direction.

Ignornace had been his best friend.