End of Fear
Prologue
What do you do when, even though you have absolutely perfect vision, everything you see is black and white, as well as blurry? When nothing around you truly makes sense, and you go on about this so-called life in a state of separation that every single thing around you just does not seem to exist?
I've been living like that for the last twelve years, no one paying the slightest bit of attention to me, and I doing them just the same.
My name is Jeremy Rukin. I am a seventeen year old boy who has only known the life of a foster care child, never truly knowing my mother, never seeing or knowing the man who impregnated my mother, and not knowing if there was a living soul on this planet in which shares even just a quarter of my blood.
My mother was a drug-addicted woman of roughly five feet two inches. I recall her eyes being a rather bright blue with hair as black as a starless night sky. The reason I remember that is because I, too, have those eyes and that hair, though I must have gotten my five foot nine inch frame from my father's side.
I never understood my mother's reasoning as to why she believed heroin was a better path than raising a child to believe in a good world; the world this child saw was a horrid and derelict place of shadows, monsters, and places a sane creature would never really live in. I suppose her putting me in foster care was a much better choice, for I had no falseness of the place I call home.
You see, I never trusted another person aside from myself. I find that in putting my trust in a person is a rather negligent thing to do, for you are placing what makes you up in the hands of a faceless person who may or may not truly care for you. In the end, I've found that people are more than likely to let you down, and I refuse to give someone that power.
At least, I did. Then I met a person in which I would have stopped the world for, whether he let me down or not.
I've been living like that for the last twelve years, no one paying the slightest bit of attention to me, and I doing them just the same.
My name is Jeremy Rukin. I am a seventeen year old boy who has only known the life of a foster care child, never truly knowing my mother, never seeing or knowing the man who impregnated my mother, and not knowing if there was a living soul on this planet in which shares even just a quarter of my blood.
My mother was a drug-addicted woman of roughly five feet two inches. I recall her eyes being a rather bright blue with hair as black as a starless night sky. The reason I remember that is because I, too, have those eyes and that hair, though I must have gotten my five foot nine inch frame from my father's side.
I never understood my mother's reasoning as to why she believed heroin was a better path than raising a child to believe in a good world; the world this child saw was a horrid and derelict place of shadows, monsters, and places a sane creature would never really live in. I suppose her putting me in foster care was a much better choice, for I had no falseness of the place I call home.
You see, I never trusted another person aside from myself. I find that in putting my trust in a person is a rather negligent thing to do, for you are placing what makes you up in the hands of a faceless person who may or may not truly care for you. In the end, I've found that people are more than likely to let you down, and I refuse to give someone that power.
At least, I did. Then I met a person in which I would have stopped the world for, whether he let me down or not.