Blood Rose - A Beautiful Killer

Prologue Pt.3

Third Person POV*
(Don't worry, it will become first person once the prologue ends)

Jane, felt indifferent about the Liam situation, her thoughts constantly battling in the interior of her blockaded head. She honestly couldn't care the least about his scandalous attempts to woe her into affection, but deep within the chasms of her heart, she had felt a sentimental emotion for him. Pity. She pitied him for. All his dramatic courting, but her mind was harried with problems about her future that a mere child like her should not be fussing over. The problems and vexations of everyday life suddenly felt so big, so out Of reach, as she realized her true state. She was young, and immature, and while her actions weren't as childish or her demeanor as playful, she still possessed the childlike, golden aura, an essence that emanated from her in strong, flowing currents; dangerous they may be, but sparking with innocent life.

Jane would always observe the fiasco of acts that the troublesome Liam devised, in hopes of seeing a pleased smile of content escape her, but she remained stubborn as a mule, remaining amidst the crowd, admiring his act with an analyzing and quizzical stare, without blinking once. Then, after only five minutes that had felt like a fortnight, she would take her leave, leaving Liam in an awfully sullen mood, a reaction to the rejection he had received from the girl he thought he loved.

Gradually, Jane's mind faltered from the thoughts of Liam's entrepreneur-like, attention-seeking acts, and traveled steadily to the scene that had beholden her this very afternoon. Liam had expressed his remorse for insulting her like this, and Jane gave him a brisk nod, while browsing his eyes that shined of the leaves on the trees in her garden for any essence of mockery. Seeing that there were none, Jane grasped Liam's left hand in her right, clutching it so tightly that Liam felt his fingers could burst at the very moment, and sauntered over towards the ominous forest that almost cried calamity, beyond the ornamental meadow that offered flamboyant flowers as ornaments.

Liam, struggling with her quick pace, suffered thoroughly as he continued to repress the burning desire in his heart to run up and plant a light peck on her cheek, for those are what lowly rogues would do, by being so uncontrollable, and not a future Alpha like him, and he strivingly attempted to fervently express his masculinity, by walking jauntily, with great effort, behind the girl, though tripping and tumbling over small mouse-holes in the process. Liam admired Jane's beauty, but not only that, he absolutely adored the classiness in which she walked, still showing her eloquence despite the lavish ladylike pride, and he felt that he could just bask in her veracity, and the kindness in her little heart that was responsible for all his happiness. There was apprehension in the back of his mind, and the memories of the hours he would spend, lighted by a small flashlight under the tangles of covers on his comforter, dwelling over the emotions he felt from the bottom of his heart that were unfortunately precise as an arrow on bullseye, and undeniable directed towards the storm eyed, oblivion haired girl that haunted even the most ghastly of dreams.

And so, Liam put on a valiant smile, and pretended as if everything would work out between the two young lovers, though one didn't particularly feel mutual to the idea, and that they could travel their life like a transpired, Cliche fairytale that would only bring cherished jubilance to their 'beloved' hearts. Deep down, he knew that their assembly could never occur, but he still wanted to believe the conviction that he loved her, and perhaps, just a little bit, a minuscule amount, that she, loved him as well.

And so, the gaunt little boy followed the almost blurry figure pulling him(for he was too entranced with her elegance that he could barely see her), whom largely resembled an angelic figurine, and beheld the vanity of water and the classiness of a doe, like a love-sick puppy, succumbing to her wishes and following suit in her quick scudding and crumpling the coddling calamity that had originally kept its presence unappreciative and resonant. This worrisome emotion used to be a conundrum to Liam, for the mere toddler had never before experienced an emotion with such a dramatic dejection before, as he was constantly filled to the brim with infectious happiness, and the playful, daunting spark always present in his orbs; but this feeling sent thrilling tsunamis of distress about him, for he had little experience with battling the sadness that seemed to burst his pumping heart into privative joy and fragmentariness.