Chevron

Chapter 1

The morning dew was still prominent on the road one early autumn morning as an old pick-up truck rattled down the road; its rusty, faded blue coat an eyesore to the beautiful town of Glendale.

The owner of the truck was considered much the same to the people as his truck was to the town. The moment the stranger arrived five years ago, the town was abuzz at the sight of the new-comer, but they kept their distance. Everyone did. No-one ventured close to the man who could quite easily be called a beast.

His name was Chevron, and he lived in a small cabin on the outskirts of the town. The only reason people knew this was because he worked as a lumberjack for the town's logging company. He kept to himself most of the time and, while the other employees were still skeptical of him, they grew accustomed to his silent, recluse ways.

He was a hard worker, but that was all they knew.

And it was on this crisp morning that Chevron found himself making his way to work, as he has done so for the past five years. He took a deep breath and rolled his neck as he glanced around the rousing town. It was too early for any businesses to be open yet. However, there was always one particular building that seemed to have life early every morning without fail.

Chevron's mismatched eyes flickered towards the quaint building with a delicate sign which stated 'Daisy's Deli'.

It was a cute name for the little shop, and Chevron often noticed the owner hard at work preparing for the day as he would drive by. Today was no different. He spotted the young woman unpacking chairs as his truck passed the large windows of the building.

Her name suited her well. She was undoubtedly beautiful. Her hair appeared to have been kissed by the sun while her eyes were the warmest shade of caramel. The jeans she wore highlighted the curves of her legs while a pretty, white blouse brought out her naturally tanned skin.

As if feeling his stare on her back, Daisy turned to look out the window at the truck driving by. Chevron quickly looked away, and picked up speed until he was out of sight.

He had never gone to the deli before; he knew that he would resemble a bull in a china shop if he did. Pretty little treats coated with delicacies, and delicate china were not his cup of tea – he preferred coffee.

Besides, he knew he would be an eyesore if he entered the homely establishment.

Chevron sighed as he glanced at the mirror in his truck. His dark hair flopped into his mismatched eyes and he brushed the strands to cover his left as he looked back at the road, his callused hands clenching on the steering wheel.

No, he definitely did not belong in that place.

There were many a story of how Chevron came about the scars on his face; the scars that made him resemble a horribly, mangled beast.

They were deep and ran in haphazard shapes and lines which spread all over the surface of the left side of his face. Some areas of the scars had risen in the healing process, making the contour of his skin uneven and jutted. It used to look worse. The scars used to be a deep red which would turn purple if he lost his temper or exerted himself while exercising. Now they were the softest pink that, in a few more months, the scarring would be the closest shade to his natural skin tone as it possibly could be.

Chevron gritted his teeth before letting out a slow breath through his nose. The scars weren't even the worst part – it was his eyes. Both were once a vibrant blue. They were his best feature many said, but now the one was the colour of ice due to its blindness.

Chevron could never hold a conversation with anyone because of his eyes and so he soon used his hair to cover the useless one. He noticed how people would murmur wherever he went, how they would discretely move to the opposite end of the road when he walked down the street. He would just bow his head and let his shoulder-length, dark tresses barricade him from the onslaught of stares.