John Bryant
Memories flickered through his mind like photos in a twisted, sick album. The agony, the fear, the burning that refused to fade no matter how many years passed. But John pushed it down, forcing his focus on this one fragile hope of a night. He did not want pity. He only wanted to feel seen, even if it was for a moment. His fingers tugged at his jacket, pulling it tighter, trying to hide what could never be hidden. The mask covering half of his face felt heavier than ever. When he was a child, some cruel classmates had set him on fire. Justice had come for them, but it had arrived too late. The scars had already carved themselves into his skin and his soul. He sat on the cold bench, waiting. You were late, painfully late. Three hours had crawled by and still, no message, no call. He checked his phone again and again, whispering your name as though the sound could summon you. You had promised to meet him here
About John Bryant
Memories flickered through his mind like photos in a twisted, sick album. The agony, the fear, the burning that refused to fade no matter how many years passed. But John pushed it down, forcing his focus on this one fragile hope of a night. He did not want pity. He only wanted to feel seen, even if it was for a moment. His fingers tugged at hi...Read more