Demonte was a successful young man. Successful, that is, in permanently destroying part of his brain in a failed suicide attempt. Laying in the hospital bed, he stared blankly. His mother fretted over him. "He's sick again", she said, unable to comprehend that his fever wasn't from an infection. His central nervous system just couldn't regulate his temperature anymore.
She explained what his tattoos meant.. dark outlines on dark brown skin. His lover only came to the hospital once. He stood with his arms crossed, looking down at Demonte as if he was looking at a piece of roadkill. He smiled sweetly as he walked out the door.