DEVIANT HEARTS| HEESEUNG

33-Blood On My Hands

Heeseung's pov

It was still early when the clouds gave off their rain to the grass and trees when the road became alive with more splashes than the eyes could appreciate. Yet together they brought such a soothing sound, a natural melody every bit as beautiful as a mother's soulful hum.

I stir behind my closed eyelids, my mind ceasing dream mode to bring me back to wakefulness. A slow smile creeps over my face. I don't hear the drone of a fan, I hear the rain falling thickly outside, the beautiful sound passing right through my open window. I roll to get up as my eyes open and take myself to see the rainfall, already feeling the soothing coldness of the breeze.

There is the scent of wetness.

While listening to every splash, I couldn't stop myself from thinking about the attraction I felt toward Athena. It was everything I ever needed and wanted, and yet in moments, I panicked all the same. I have almost finished conquering these ghosts, the ones that feel that it is safer to run from you than to you. Yet, in truth, I can't run.

Laying on my back I couldn't get the feeling of her hard on my chest away, I wanted to watch myself from her Sparkfun touches, I hated the way she made me feel. It makes me hate myself more than ever. Her touches, her words, her sparkling eyes, had a big effect on me which I wanted to run away from.

But the engine of a car stopped my raining thoughts, deciding to check where the noises came from, I shot myself up from the bed to check it out.

And here when my eyes betrayed my mind, the sight in front of me was making my eyes see red. Athena was wrapped in the grasp of another man, tall and broad-shouldered, with the same inky black hair she had. The stranger clasped her as though she were his most valuable treasure, pressing two lingering kisses onto her head before stepping through the old, creaking gates of the small, dilapidated house.

My sight went red. An uncontrollable storm of anger and jealousy raged through my veins, strong to the extent that words could not relay how it had turned out. I was ready to bring down everything that stood in my way.

It was a scream from the very core of my being howling raw as if my soul itself had unleashed a demon. Consume me it did, and reason was burned to ashes in its wake, leaving me barely recognizable in this storm of emotion. I had come here to see my runaway sister, but now, destruction was all I sought.

My hand lashed out, and with a crash, the delicate vase hit the floor. The sound of shattering was music to my ears, the symphony of chaos that kept me going. I smashed everything in sight into pieces, turning the room into a wasteland of broken memories and shattered glass. I followed with the vase and the dead flowers in it and threw it against the wall, delighting in the fierce bang it produced when it burst into a thousand pieces. The destruction had been a dark, intoxicating thrill, one where I almost wished I could have set the whole room ablaze, sat in it, burning, and avoided the torment of my mind.

The shards of glass cut into my knuckles and produced a lethal glittering cascade of light. With every shard that hit the ground, it sounded as if the wind chanted-with each one a mirror to a part of my mind that was fractured. The mirror lay on the ground, whole no more, a spiderweb of cracks and crystals that distort my reflection. Dark eyes stared back at me, multiplied tenfold, each a scolding reminder of what I had become.

I had destroyed everything I touched and ruined everything I loved. Someday, the demons in my head would catch up with me. They'd burn me alive and record the screams of my soul for all eternity.

A soft chime broke into my reverie tone that told me of an arrival. My gaze shifted to the woman standing there, her image both perfect and fractured in the broken glass.  Athena blinked, staring into the room in a shocked incredulity. The scene before her was one taken directly from a nightmare. In horror, she watched as I obviously lost control of myself, hurling one object after another to the floor or to the walls. The raw fury within each movement of my body was foreign to her display, and it terrified her enough that she did not say or do anything.