My first fanfic ever! I'm not much of a writer, but I would appreciate reviews muchly so!

Chocolate: Wonderful, luscious, scrumptious and marvellous chocolate. The substance of innocence, of joy; even love, but I'd rather skip that one, the very thought of it petrifies me, well the type of love that involves people.

I used to love chocolate; ever since that one fateful day in which I discovered the ecstasy that one piece of cheap chocolate could give to me. Since then, until now, chocolate has been my pleasure, my diversion, my passion, and well… my life basically. No evil could ever come from chocolate despite what my Father said. I never believed him before, but I feel he was right now. Chocolate is evil, its sweet aroma a serpent's writhing body – the path, a winding trail to pain.

If only I listened to him, my dear, strict Papa… I wouldn't be here, this gloomy stale hole of absolute darkness. I haven't seen the light in so long now; it's how they want it. I've long given up all my secret recipes in the hopes that they'll leave me alone, but instead they want to keep me. They say my tears taste as sweet as chocolate – how I detest that word now! How can this glossy, thick liquid lead to such desolation, such hurt and humiliation. I feel shame: a new sensation which I can't bear.

I've long given up hope of my rescue. I can't blame anyone for not caring. I see now that I haven't been the most pleasant of people to be around. Even my captors end up selling me off after a while. I've been passed along so much now; I've lost count and location.

I don't mean to appear so toffee-nosed, but the truth is: I have this fear of contact. I've made it a point to cover as much of me as possible, hell I even wear a hat to shield my head and at times my eyes. My eyes always gave too much away. All of these have been stripped away from me now, I'm now constantly bare but for my gloves for which I am grateful, at least I still have some sort of barrier.

Lots of fears appear at first to be irrational, but my fear is fully rational: Contact leads to acknowledgement, which leads to relationships. I always got to the beginning before that person ups and leaves me: First my Mother, then my Father along with our home, and now Charlie and his homely family. I thought my fear of contact was lifted when I met Charlie – but like everyone else who ever mattered, he also left me.

I stir awake from my light snooze to the sound of a peculiar noise. As if on autopilot, I scramble to a corner. I don't know why I bother; they find me all the time. I guess I do it so I can say to myself afterwards that at I at least tried to protect myself, that I'm not completely incompetent.

The thing I notice is that the doorway is lighted. The second thing I notice – well, more felt – was an excruciating pain straight afterwards. I didn't get a chance to experience a third thing because all I knew after that was oblivion.

I swim groggily back to consciousness to the sight of black again, but something is different, something I can't currently pin point. Maybe I've cracked finally? I know some say I was cracked before this ever began, but that was all a façade. Now I see nothing, but everything smells different, cosier; safe. Now that I'm fully awake, I realise I'm no longer bound; the floor beneath me no longer feels or cold, but more like a comfortable bed – soft and warm, and best of all, dry and free of the foul odours that I've been forced to endure previously.

I hope fiercely that this is no cruel trick; that the gentle hands lifting me tenderly aren't the same hands that have showered abuse upon my body in the past. A gentle, slightly gruff voice is talking to me. These gentle words feel alien as they touch my ears. It's only now that I notice the smooth cloth chafing my cheeks as my tears leak freely, soaking the blind that has kept me in protective shadows.

"I'm going to remove your blind now my dear boy… all's right… slight discomfort…" I feel the cloth delicately lifted off. At first my eyes slam shut, even the dim lamp seems harsh. I whimper, but thin and soft arms encircle me like a babe. I dare not believe it until his voice speaks. It's Charlie; Charlie who I thought had abandoned me, Charlie who spent weeks searching for me with the aid of my cherished father. It's Charlie now who I open my eyes for, the one person who never gave up on me, who saw through my façades, my dark humour, it's Charlie now who will make everything all right.

The tears I cry now are no longer of fear or pain, or of lost innocence, but of relief and a new hope: one of recovery and maybe even love.

End