𝑀𝓎 𝑀𝒶𝒻𝒾𝒶 𝐻𝓊𝓈𝒷𝒶𝓃𝒹

3 - BROKEN

ASTRID'S POV:

I massaged the glowing scar on the back of my neck while looking down at the lamplit street below me. How pretty... The landscape view of the city was beautiful at this time of night.

The wind whistled by my ear and with another exasperate sigh, tears watered in my eyes but I wiped them away quickly, quick enough to make  sure they didn't hit my cheek.

I had to stay strong.

At least that's what I told myself.

I started to slowly hum the chorus of Broken Clocks by SZA but with a quick glance back down to the street below me, my voice took its own course. Passion flowed from my lips, expressing the ache and longing I couldn't put into words.

"Better day than yesterday
Ooh ooh
I just take it day by day
Ooh oh oh
Never hearing what they say
Ooh ooh
I just do it my way..."

My hair flew back from the wind while my voice grew with each note. Who was I on the balcony calling out to? No one could help me now.

Yet, as I broke out into the chorus, I pleaded for my freedom, for a life of my own choosing.

When I opened my eyes, a figure had pulled up on a rumbling motorcycle, the sound blending with mine like a counterpoint in the night.

He sat there like a silhouette in the dark while deep eyes fixed on me through the pocket in his helmet. His gaze met mine with such an intensity that goosebumps appeared on my arms.

The mystery man sat there, with his perfect build and tatted arms. It made me understand the life my father had mapped out for me and a created an unsettling urge to defy it, to defy him.

Could this man understand how I felt?

The final chords of my song hung in the air as I met his unwavering stare.

Hundreds of crows cawed around us, as if the night had conspired to bring us together.

I glanced back up at the sky.

Estaba claro.
(It was clear.)

I didn't need his name, and I didn't need to know who the hell he was, because somewhere out there, I'd be seeing this man again.

With the sound of tourists by the look of it, he revved the engine of his motorcycle, a subtle smile playing at the corners of his lips.

My eyes slowly widened not knowing what to make of that expression while I shut the door of my balcony. I carefully watched him disappear into the moonlight, leaving me with an unspoken promise lingering in the night air.

Exhaling deeply, I flung a knife at the dartboard hanging on my wall, the blade finding its mark in the center.

I smirked, "Bullseye."

Finally relaxed, my eyes slowly started to close in the enveloping darkness of my room, not giving me a chance to process the weight of the evening still heavy on my shoulders.

I collapsed onto my bed, burying my face in my plush pillows, allowing a scream to escape me, just low enough to stay muffled by the fabric.

Who in the world was that?

¿Pensó que mi canto era bueno?
(Did he think my singing was good?)

I had so many questions but just as I tried to gather up all my thoughts, a text from my father lit up my phone.

"Gran día mañana, (Big day tomorrow) you know the deal." My eyebrows narrowed in frustration, staring at his text.

"Do not embarrass me or else."

"Avergonzar?"
("Embarrass?")

With a permanent eye roll, I turned off my phone and took out my pocket knife, absentmindedly twirling it in between my fingers, contemplating the sharp edge against my skin. I wondered how it would feel if I just happened to cut myself, not that it's ever happened to me before.

I shut my eyes and laid in the darkness, my brain not knowing what to expect of tomorrow.