Dahlia Wellburg hates her misery as much as she loves it. She sees herself as a stone: ordinary and unwanted. Yet, they know her to be a rose: soft, but with thorns.
. . .
Mature Content. Check the tags.
"I have this strange feeling that I'm not myself anymore. It's hard to put into words, but I guess it's like I was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. That sort of feeling." - Haruki Murakami
. . .
Dahlia
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"We'll look into it," The officer said. "Don't worry, Miss Wellburg."
He got back into the car with his partner and drove away in the night.
Andros was standing beside me, smoking too casually while my heart was still trying all the tricks to break out of my chest.
"What happened in the room?" I asked him.
He had walked out, a cigarette in hand, and called the cops. The cops were here within minutes, they examined the empty backyard and found no one.
"He ran away," he replied, the ember of his cigarette was the only lit-up thing in the street. The lights had died and not many houses were near here.
I rubbed my arms up and down. The storm had quietened a bit but it was still raining heavily.
"He saw you and he ran away?" I asked.
He nodded. "Yes, Dahlia. He saw me and he ran away."
"You don't look that scary."
He smirked. "Don't I?"
I looked at him. He was dressed in a shirt and black trousers, his sleeves were rolled up displaying his tattoos and menancing muscles, and the scars on his neck were touched by slight orange because of his cigarette. "I take that back."
He smiled. "I can look as scary as Hedeon when I try."
"I like you as you are," I said and then the color of my face must have turned the deepest shade of red.
His eyes turned gentle, and he threw the cigarette on the ground and crushed it under his feet. He stepped closer and kissed me. Smoke and the addicting taste of his lips filled my senses. His one hand cradled the back of my head and his arm wrapped around my waist.
He almost lifted me off the ground and he devoured my lips. I gasped into his mouth, eyes squeezing shut.
He pulled back after a while, setting his forehead against mine and breathing deeply. "You'll be my ruin, won't you?" He kissed me again. "My sweet little destruction."
. . .
I sat down on the ground, staring at the boxes.
"What...are you doing?"
I looked up. "Which one are you, again?" I hadn't spoken at all the ride here.
