Dangerously In a Heartbeat

Chapter 08: Pretty fingers

☼

ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ғɪɴɢᴇʀs

ʜᴇʟᴇɴ's ᴘᴏᴠ
୧‿︵‿︵  ✾  ︵‿︵‿୨

𝐈 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐃 to control my breath. Inhale, slowly; but it was futile. Every emotion inside me was mixed up and it suffocated me. It was hard to control the rage that was rising inside me. My hand was itching to punch something, anything. Otherwise, I might end up doing something I regret.

I sigh, frustration and sadness heavy in my heart. I walk, looking at the night sky, thinking of what Grandpa had said. Grandma was no longer alive.

The silvery moon looked so cold and alone, although the bright little stars accompanied it. I kept my gaze on the moon, somehow relating to it and finding comfort in it. The moon was like me; no matter how surrounded I am, no matter my brothers are now accompanying me, I am alone and cold. A broken shell, always ready to be broken by life's fate. I was destined to be alone in this sadistic world, and I was becoming a sadist who inflicted pain on others.

Mother is dead, and now Grandma is dead.

I was resentful towards my brothers, even Grandpa. How can they not tell me? They know how precious and how much I loved Grandma.

"Whoa there." All of a sudden, I was grabbed and pulled. I immediately tensed, turning around and punching the person's jaw. He stumbled a bit and stepped away from me, holding his jaw with one hand, cursing under his breath.

"Who are you?" I glared at him. He was tall, and his disheveled silver hair; which was probably dyed had fell on his eyes. He stood three feet away from me, holding his sharp jaw with his long pretty fingers from the impact of my punch. He was really tall.

"So nowadays this is how humans thank someone for saving their lives." He had a manly voice He chuckles, tilting his head and running his pretty fingers through his silkily silver hair. Okay, I know. I do have a thing for long fingers and veins, and no, I am not a mosquito.

I gaze at his gray eyes that had a strange glint. He grins at me. I couldn't help but notice how his hair complimented his eyes.

"And when did you save my life?" I asked, quite rudely.

"You were about to walk into a motorcycle." He pointed his—so far the most elegant and pretties fingers I've seen, to my surroundings. I looked away from his hand and glanced around at my surrounding. He was right, I was going to walk into the busy road that was nearly filled with cars and traffic.

"Whatever, it's not like you did such a great thing." I shrugged. I will die when it's my time anyway. Every human in this world will taste death.

"You want to die?" He asked, curiosity dancing in his gray eyes.

"I will even if don't want to. Life is there, so death exists. It's not like we can escape it." I stated a simple fact to him and walked away without apologizing or thanking him for hitting him and for saving me.

I roam around the city, trying to get familiar with the place. I was hoping I'd find an undergrown street fighting in this town, somewhere near the backstreet or an alley. After walking for about half an hour, I heard the faint sound of hollering and cheers booming through the alleyway where I was working.

"Finally," I muttered, pulling my black hoodie up, covering my face. I walked inside, and the voices got even louder. I made my entrance to the bar, drawing many people's attention to me. A smirk made its way to my face as I moved forward through the crowd of people.