His Angel

Chapter 2 - The Art of Satan

I find that there is nothing more unsettling than a person smothered with emotions that in no way, link to the current event. These people may be portrayed as 'insensitive,' sometimes even 'satisfied' whilst viewing another in pain. They are physically unable to truly look sympathetic nor sad. They cannot produce a hint of concern when someone may have a trauma to relate, not even if that someone has ,somehow, skilfully, slithered their way into the deepest chambers of their hearts. Those people are feeling an inner surge of pleasure when others hurt, and I will be damned if I am ever empathetic enough to comprehend why.

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My brain stutters for a moment and every part of me goes on pause while my thoughts scramble to catch up.

I stand agape; my jaw at my feet, my pupils dilated and my eyeballs plummeting out of their sockets. I fail to notice that my breath is halted, now determined to stay hitched in my throat, and the only audible noise around is the raucous pounding of my heart in my ears.

My aesthetic senses have come alive; I am stricken by his artistry. The combination of shapes and colours are ever so pleasing to my eyes as I read the fairytale of his appearance. Such beauty, such poetry defined in the lines of his gifted features.

My god is he stunning....wait a damn minute.

'What the hell are you doing Tiana! This brute just injured that poor boy, snap out of it!' my inner-conscience reminds me.

My expression swiftly morphs from one of awe, to disgust as common sense rapidly reappears. Shaking my head in dismissal of my previous ignorance, I defiantly march towards the magnificent giant and prod his chest, hard.

"What the actual fuck do you think you are doing going around and shoving people on the ground like that? I am not sure what he could have possibly done to you to receive such a retaliation but could you,please, apologise to him?" I prompt him whilst trying my absolute best to contain the anger that is practically condensing off of my body into a dark rain cloud now hanging above my head.

The cafeteria goes instantaneously silent.
All eyes are directed at the barbaric man, helplessly towering above my small frame.

I gaze up at my opponent, refusing to cower down at his belittling position, searching for any kind of reaction, any humane emotion.

To my dismay, I find nothing.

He holds only a blank expression whilst looking at me intently. He chooses to be far from subtle whilst not even attempting to disguise the burning gaze of his eyes traveling from the bottom of my feet to the tip of my head. 

Don't. Blush.

''Are you seriously not going to respond?", I question while trying to remain calm although I find myself becoming more aggravated by the second. I am ,also, slightly hurt that he is choosing to ignore me; merely swatting away my interrogations, my seemingly meaningless words from his mind.

I was about to pry again when a hand lands on my shoulder.

I spin around to find Scarlet obtaining an expression of shock, a possible hint of admiration lying within the depths of her gaze.

"Jesus, would you all go away and stop fucking staring? Its not like anybody died, move along," Ethan threatens towards the rack of eavesdropping students from his position next to Zoey, one just forward of my own.

I return to face the unreadable man who is so determined to infuriate me.

After a few seconds I hear people frantically shuffling around us, signaling that they chose to follow Ethan's demands. Eventually, to my surprise, I find that the cafeteria has almost cleared completely, leaving only the six people I have been introduced to so far, the magnificent giant, and myself.