Her hand held the silver gun firmly, her cold emotionless eyes kept it's gaze on his. She tried to reason with herself that she felt nothing but hate for him, but how could she? How could she not love him when he was the one to save her.
Save her from herself.
"Pull it," He whispered, his hands locked to his sides, his body posture straight and attentive. He wasn't afraid, he'd rather be killed by the one he loves than anyone else.
The rain poured heavily, as the roaring of the thunders echoed through the sky. The blinding lightning ripped through the gloomy grey sky. Their bodies now soaking from the cold liquid. She shivered slightly form the cold impact of the breeze.
Licking her bloody cold lips, she looked down to the floor then back up. His dark eyes stared at her again, just like the first time they met. Black, dark brown, it was always dark. You'd never know the true color of his eyes. No one knew but her...
She knew, no, she knows that it's very dark brown in color. She has seen it. She adored it.
"Shoot me." He raised his voice, yet the deep, husky accent lingered. His eyes were darker as ever. He knew she would do it, but then again, he knew what she was capable of.
A battle field is being taken place in her mind. Debating on whether she should shoot or retreat.
Swords clashed, the lightning clapped.
Her mind was a battle field, his mind was at peace.
She was unsure, he was sure.
The thunder roared, she screamed.
Dropping the gun to the floor, her hands immediately covered her small ears as she let out a scream of confusion, defeat and helplessness.
Gripping her blonde hair tightly, she let another scream rip through her throat as she dropped to the muddy ground crying, sobbing loudly. The ones above seemed to understand as they eased the heavy flow and now peeped the sun behind the depressing clouds.
"It's okay, let it out..." He cooed softly, holding her in his arms. She leaned in closer to him, welcoming the warmth that their body produced. Stroking her wet hair lightly, he hummed the song knowing that it would calm her at least a bit.
"I-I'm sorry," She said quavering voice.
"I know and it's okay."
YOU ARE READING
Eunoia • Book One
Poetrycurrently - completed. ❝ 𝑯𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰, 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒔 ❞ Book One of Eunoia (Beautiful Thinking). A book with words dipped in emotions of a young soul. A book of different genres of poems and so on, but it's also just an...
