{((The Photographer))}i{((Part 1))}

[Another new story. I know, I'm bad. But I couldn't help it. I like the plot for this.]

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Argus Sean Winst.

The name everyone attaches with the phrases "terrible car crash", "gifted child", and of course "freak". My mom used to always tell me as a child that she picked the name Argus because in Greek mythology he was the man with a hundred eyes. And of course as a mother, she could tell there was something different about my eyes besides the complete contrast of their extreme light blue against my father's jet black hair. Well, I guess we all have been underestimating the power of a woman's maternal instinct. Because my mom was right, my eyes were different. They were, and unfortunately still are, a key part in my "photographic memory". At least that's what all the doctor and psychiatrist told my parents when they asked why I could remember what the note atop the refrigerator a month ago read. And that was when the names and mocking began. Parents would either tell their children to "stay away from freaks like me" because they feared it might be the product of a deadly disease or to become friends with me, since I "may become of use". I guess I can't blame people for being a bit frightened by me. When we first discovered this and didn't have much knowledge on the topic, my parents were also frightened. Maybe it's my appearance that also scares away everyone. People say I look like a ghost because of the brightness of my eyes, darkness of my hair, and horrible paleness of my skin. Well, all I can say for it is that I'm not let out much.

I live in the Judius Institute. Basically, it's a mental ward that a man named Judius donated a load of money to. It's nothing like what living at "home", or what used to be home, was like. My bedroom is painted a hideous shade of pale yellow and smells strongly of anti-bacterial shit. I miss my childhood, but that ended when I was seven. And it's been a decade since then.

August 17, 1996. It was my mom and dad's 10 year anniversary. My grandmother was going to take care of me for the night, so they could have a night out. But when it was time for them to leave I said that I didn't want stay home. So my mom and dad took both me and my grandmother out for dinner at the fancy restaurant they were supposed to attend alone. But we never made it to the restaurant together. Halfway there I had spotted black bear stuffed animal and cried until finally we stopped and went inside to buy it. Maybe if I wasn't such a horrible child, they wouldn't have died because of me.

When we emerged from the store, my new bear dangling from my hand and practically dragging on the floor, right as we got in the car there was a shooting. A bullet ploughed through the backseat window into my grandmother, sitting beside me, immediately killing her. I didn't get what was going on. Nothing made sense anymore. Why wasn't Grandma saying anything? My parents began to climb into the back to try and check on her. My dad immediately told me to hide under my mother's chair. I fit perfectly, I've always been quite scrawny for my age. I saw two other bullets one soon rested in my father's head, the other in my mother's chest. The crimson blood flowing out of the open wounds of the three grown-ups; they were supposed to protect me. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. All I did was stay there, hidden under the chair, just staring at their rotting corpses as their nerves twitched for the last time searching for some source of life. I resided under that chair for quite sometime.

When the cops finally arrived, they had to carry me out of the car. I screamed and kicked them. There was no way I would accept the fact that I had lost my family. The facts couldn't even process through my brain. As my sanity began to turn to painkillers and various methods of self-mutilation, I was soon submitted into the intstitute from the orphanage I was put in. Most likely, I'll never be able to get out. Even when I'm 18, I'll still be locked in here. Socializing is hardly even an option, unless you count talking to the other patients that just mutter gibberish under their breath, while you talk. Ever since I began to live at the institute, I'm not even allowed to go to school anymore. Because I "might be dangerous to others".

They all said it was a gift. Being able to remember everything. Every single image that ever passed your eyes. From when I was a baby and didn't understand what I saw to when I'm older and am back to the process of when I was a child. It's not a gift. It was never supposed to happen. This "skill", or whatever you may call it, was just a mistake in the silk of life the angels weaved. I'm like a cat with eleven lives. People say you're better off, but are you? I know that I would certainly pick living a normal nine lives over dying eleven gruesome ways.

But the worst part, I have no vote on this matter. And there's no way I can forget.

{((Nothing Ever Comes For Free))}i{((Part 2))}

[Sorry, this took so long. It's a bit choppy because I've written various parts on various days. But you'll just have to read it (or not) anyway. So, let's move on and get this party started.]

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"I'm so sorry!" he apologized again. "My name's Ryan Dylans. I hope it's okay if I buy you another drink!"

This Ryan appeared so sweet. He apologized repeatedly and looked so flustered. Rouge was painted across his cheeks as he ran back to Hunter with a fist full of napkins. Unfortunately, Hunter is a hard girl to gain forgiveness from. But he was getting close to forgiveness, which is a record for her. Ryan's dark green eyes glinted from embarrassment and with a genuine apology as he bent down from his taller height to attempt to dry her now stained clothes.

"It's… fine." Hunter replied through her teeth.

"No, it's not. I'm going to buy you another one." Ryan argued back.

Before she could reply with a seemingly well planned and witty comeback, Ryan was already at the cashier asking Quinn what Hunter's order was. Glaring at his back, she went against her better judgment of just walking away as if nothing had happened and stood in the same position as she had stood a mere minute ago when she first caught sight of Ryan. After ordering and handing over his money to Quinn, he looked back to check if Hunter had indeed waited for the coffee he was retrieving. She noticed the small twinge of his cheek as a small smile was pulled upon his soft lips when he noticed she had somehow not run out on him, this random man who had completely ruined her shirt.

'I'm only staying for the espresso I'm only staying for the espresso. I'm only staying for…' Hunter chanted repeatedly in her mind.

As quick as he had disappeared, Ryan was back right in front of her holding her espresso out to her. Cautiously, Hunter reached out to his hand that held her second round of caffeine that day. There was no way she was going to wait for a third espresso. But before he could ask her if she wanted to sit and maybe talk, she had disappeared out the door of Starbuck's just as he had appeared a short while before. Pausing in the spot where he stood, Ryan blinked a few times with a blank stare on the door, but gradually moved toward a table began reading the cover of the nearly-one-week-old newspaper lying on the table as if he were some ordinary person.

Sipping the espresso, Hunter made her way to the place where she always loved. It was her "secret annexe" like Anne Frank had. This was her place to hide out from the world when the walls of her bedroom where too cliché. The small abandoned park soon began to come into view.

Most people stopped coming to this park. It used to be such a booming spot for parents to bring their children for a day of just complete bliss. That was when Hunter came with her parents as a child. But she got older and her parents moved to a cozy, little suburban home and as if it was a conspiracy to make her forget the good times of her childhood, when everything went just right, a new and better park was built. It had three times as many as the three old swings in Hunter's park. And four giant slides instead of her mere one slide. The new park even had a giant sand pit, see-saws, more space for grown-ups to play, more benches for them to sit at and socialize while they watched their children, and just more. It was also inside the city so parents didn't have to travel so far just to spend time with their children. So, now this was Hunter's park or at least that's what she called it. She wouldn't couldn't leave it and all those actually pleasant memories.

As she approached one of the swings, she sat and brought her bag into her lap. It was made of a plain manila colored canvas fabric with black and red zippers all over, leading to various pockets. The main of it, though, was covered in red and black Sharpie. Whenever she needed to write a quick note or thought or just felt like doodling, she would always have a red and/or black Sharpie in her bag. Reaching into the main pocket, she pulled out "The Catcher In The Rye". Hunter hadn't read the book in quite a while, but found it a few days ago just lying on top of some books on her bookshelf.

She placed the earphones of her iPod in her ear and picked a random song to play without looking at it. "The Ransom" by Escape The Fate began to play as she started to slowly swing while reading. As cliché as it could sound, the hours passed by as if they were merely seconds. Hunter never noticed her stomach gently rumble as she read, listened to the songs switch, and swung back and forth. Well, that is until that gentle rumbling turned into loud growls. Somehow lunch had passed her by, so she decided it was about time to get up from this paradise.

Hunter began the small trek back to the main of the city. The sky looked so beautiful with the hundreds of different colors all molding into this picturesque view that even the best of the best artists couldn't duplicate. A sunset could be seen with its blues, pinks, purples, and more colors meeting the tangerine yellow sun, barely seen behind the tall buildings. But the many colors soon blended into a small midnight sky peeking out at the world with its speckled cheeks of bright stars. This was a beauty that was unmat-

BAM! As she walked along the sidewalk of the city, her and someone's shoulders rammed into each other as they tried to pass each other. And for a second time that day she was nearly knocked down, unbeknownst to her, by the same person. Oh, the wonderful luck she had.

"Bitch!" Hunter exclaimed as her head was faced down at her, now pounding, shoulder.

"I think you mean, son of a bitch." He shot back instantly with a smirk playing on his lips this time.

"Fuck, it’s you again." She replied without having to look up from her shoulder.

"Aw, I love you too. But I don't even know your name yet." As he said this, Hunter was almost fazed by his completely different demeanor from the last time they had clashed.

These greetings they exchanged earned hard glares from mothers with their children and old grumpy couples walking along the sidewalk as well. Though, most things could anger mothers with their children and grumpy old couples. But they weren't fazed very much by the glares and other expressions of disapproval.

{((The Heart Inside Me))}i{((One-Shot))}

[I tried a new writing style. It's supposed to sound more imaginative and symbolic, I guess. Yeah, I think it sucks ass too. So print it out and set fire to it, please and thank you.]

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Out the window, that's where they had all flown away. They could all escape this. This feeling that smothers me. Like someone's pushing me face down into the soft pillow, forcing me to scream out to no one. No one, who will ever come to save me, who cares at all about me anymore.

That's what he said he was doing to me. Just smothering me, tying my wings back and leaving me to fight the wonders of the ground. Lies. Everything he said. It wasn't him smothering me. That, that role was taken by me. He was the bright firefly meant for so much more, caught in my small jar for my amusement. And then I tripped and fell and he escaped to do more, to join those like him.

I can see the children, small as ants, and the swing set, where we shared our first kiss, from here, high above the towns. This is where I want to belong. Where the birds fly and the clouds just roll on for eternity, where the ground drops to the small people bound to it below. But that's where I belong. With those people who are all damned to spend their lives walking the same dirty, sinned paths back to their children with their same damned fate.

The rocks don't crunch beneath me anymore. I've stopped consuming the cursed poison we call food. It was all made it the fires of hell by Lucifer's dead minions damning us further into hell. My feet hover on the line between this hell and the freedom where those who really live can fly. Let me fly away with them, let me escape. I keep walking until I feel the rocky cliff disappear behind me. I want to fly away from this place.

Don't leave me alone anymore. Let me come with you, out the window.

Come save me, crows. Bring me away with you. Fly me away to fade in the darkness of the day for sinners. Save me from my damned fate. Save me from the evil planted in this sinned and scarred skin.

We're more alike than it seems. Both covered in darkness and trying to escape. Help me. Let me join you. Or at least save this heart that beats in me from this damned fate I am bound to.

|[ Nice To Meet You Too ]|

[Okay, so this isn't that good. I'm not sure if it even counts as a poem. The beat is a bit strange, but I like the randomness of it.]

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We've made failures and lovers of ourselves
And we're living proof
Of every pathetic excuse you can think of.
But truthfully, I don't give a damn
To ask you what you think
You can hate us or join us,
Or don't act like you care at all
We're all raised on old, scratched cds
Playing those songs we love
Heart, lies, and friends; that teach everything ends
And hate the government.
Rock stars that bath in all their cash
Don't have a thing on me
We always cheat on those meaningless things
So don't go and kill us, please.
And we live without any regrets.
We'll shout out what we think.
Make a fool of yourself,
Act like a lunatic
Life's too short to just follow dollar bills.