youngblood | a.i.

eighty five || i'm a youngblood

When I was sixteen, I had someone I trust tell me "living like a Youngblood hurts too". I didn't understand what he meant originally. The adrenaline being a Youngblood always pumped through my veins was enough to cover up the pain on the inside.

I used to think you had to be numb to live this way- that way the pain wouldn't hurt anymore. You could have pushed a dagger through old Anastasia's chest and she wouldn't have known. The tequila she used to fill the void was enough so she didn't feel anything anymore. She was a Youngblood. She was untouchable. Nothing could hurt her.

Until she met him. He broke her into a thousand pieces, enough that even alcohol and adrenaline were no help.

I didn't trust him originally when he told me living like a Youngblood hurt. The devil was once an angel too- you can't trust anyone in this life. But in the end, I trusted the devil himself, who in reality, was an angel once too- just like me.

He'd destroyed me piece by piece, but he kept them all to help put me back together later. He'd tried to act like the glue the best he could, but fire melts anything. He tried to shield me from everything he could, burning himself alive to save me. This devil did every angel-like thing he could, until he earned back his wings from an angel herself.

I fell in love with him, and saw the angel behind that facade of devilish hazel.

I just told you the story of how I lived like a Youngblood.

And the story of how it almost killed me.

I told you the story of the angel who gained her wings and the devil that awarded them to her. The story of how the angel fell for the devil himself only to discover he was an angel once too.

My name's Anastasia Hemmings, and I'm the angel who fell for the devil with wings- Ashton Irwin.

My name's Anastasia Hemmings, and I'm a Youngblood.