Stone Circle We cannot be equal

Mother isn’t here, came the harsh reality of life. But she was right, wasn’t she? Scarlett couldn’t be there—Scarlett was dead… right? He pinched his eyes shut, trying to concentrate; he remembered, dimly, his sister’s visit so long ago. When she delivered the news of their mother’s passing, when another strike was made against him by life itself. But if not her, who visited him on the borders? A ghost? Slowly and unknowingly, he shook his head, ridding himself of such thoughts. Ghosts aren’t real, some voice of reason echoed through his head. Ghosts aren’t real.

When words—a question and a command—were directed his way, his eyes snapped back open. Alexander nodded despite the uncertainty that lingered within his chest; truthfully, he knew not if he could stand and maintain it but he would at least try—he had to try. Struggling, he managed to push himself back up to his feet, a minor amount of energy regained from sitting there. And while he managed to maintain himself atop wobbly legs, the second he tried to take a step he stumbled again, only just barely catching and saving himself from falling. Once more his head hung, although this time it was less out of exhaustion and more out of shame—embarrassment, perhaps, ashamed of the state he allowed himself to fall into.

“I need…” He didn’t want to say it. He wasn’t supposed to say it, right? Alexander was meant to handle things on his own, or so he’d been telling himself for so long now. “I-I need help…” To move, to mend, to be himself again—to be the boy before his troubles.