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Dennis hurts. He isn’t hurt. There is nothing wrong with his body. Yet his heart was so heavy it hurt. Deep black sludge tried to pump through his veins, preventing blood to reach his hands. Clumsy fingers reach for his phone. The screen showed him the time. 1.43 am. The light was so bright in made his eyes water but no real tears fall. He wished, he could cry. He wished, he could be held and sob and hurt in a strong embrace. He wished for somebody to choose him, to stay with him in these horribly lonely nights. There was nobody. Nobody ever chose him. He was rotten inside. Everybody told him that. His parents, his brothers, the priest in his home town. Years passed since he spoke to them but their words still rung deep within his soul.
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