Akira Takahashi is a man with numerous aliases and personalities. Unknown to many, he harbours a deep secret that could be detrimental to those dear to him if ever revealed. With shadows of Akira's past unveiling themselves, it's time to greet them...
So vividly I remember the day Gabriel Cross saw me at my worst. They say to move on, one needs to hit rock bottom. To survive, one needs to know the importance of life. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have survived.
Him teaching me, taking a young boy under his wings was all everyone could hope for. I was finally starting to smile, be at ease and learn the art of speach. Weeks to months, he trained me thrice a evening at his apartment above the studio. When Azora got to know, she supported me wholeheartedly and even sat down with me to practice. I hadn't informed my grandparents; wanted to give them a suprise. Everything was going well until the shoe dropped and I had my biggest relapse.
February was nearing.
Every year my anxieties would shoot up and a young Akira would become unsalvagable. That year it was inevitable. That year I went to great extremes. Only three things calmed me down. Booz, sex and blitzed.
Sad.
But I forgot. I forgot that an angel was sent on earth to redeem me. Gabriel Cross. A man who swore to protect me and stay by my side until he couldn't. He came to my rescue and taught me pain could be gained at right place with right people and by the end of it all, from pup I blossomed into a dragon. His Dragon.
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Past
My eyes glazed at the sight of the calendar in front of me. In bold italic font "February" was written. All my demons were back to haunt me. Those painful memories that never seem to go away. How sad was my life that once I sought a doctor to perform hypnosis on me, anything to forget those horrid details, but in the end even that proved futile.
My hands were shaking. My throat was parched. I knew what was happening. It was the side-effects of my cravings. I needed them now more than anything. I had to leave. Leave, before Azora wakes up to find me struggling again.
Stuffing few cash, hastily I wrote a message for her and dashed out of the window. There was that year where I begged Azora to tie me up inside my room and make it difficult for me to run, but that proved even more dangerous.
I couldn't stop. I didn't have it in me to stop and so I ran, until my feet brought me to Queens Valley, where colours were bright and sin, abundant. Never before had I ever stepped into this place. This was an ultimate place of doom.
This was the worst underbelly of New York, where even screams went unheard and life was meaningless. Neon colours evaded every bit of shadow that resided here and I took my first step in.
At the counter -yes this place had a counter- stood a scantily dressed girl with pink hair dye. We didn't exchange words but I knew how places liked this worked. I paid her $100 upfront and walked into the seedy motel. The moment I stepped in, a red glass of cheap wine was placed in my hand. For the uninitiated, it wasn't a fancy drink but one mixed with cocktails of blitzed.
