Angel ♡ Eyes

♡Chapter 51

"Damn it." She hissed. Her head hurt.

Across from her was a guy. Tattoos, short grown out buzzed hair. He had stubble on his face. But he was grinning at her like she was the sun itself. As if he were merely a planet.

"You're alive..." he whispered. His voice cracking.

Who the hell was he? She narrowed her eyes, trying to retrace any memory of him. But she had no memories... who was she?

Her eyes widened. Who am I?

You're a monster.

A machine.

You're sole purpose is to destroy~

"What..." Her voice broke as she spoke. There were voices in her head that were not her own.

"B-fly?" The guy's tone was worried. His brows furrowed. She stared at him. His green eyes small pools of emerald rivers. "What's wrong?"

Was that her name? B-Fly? "Who..."

Listen to us

We know you

We are you

You are us

A monster

A machine

"Shit." The guy reached out, his hand cupping her face. "No. No, this isn't fair. You didn't say anything about this." His bottom lip quivered. "Buttercup, you have to remember."

She merely stared back at him with a vague look on her face. She had no memories of anything. Didn't saw what?

The guy grabbed her hand and brought it to his face, resting his chin ontop. Her eyes zeroed in on the metal plates that made up her hand. Her eyes widened. What the hell?!

"Buttercup, it's me. It's Butch." His voice drew her eyes back to him. "Please, Love. You've gotta remember." His eyes had welled with tears.

Her heart increased. There was a loud sound from inside her head, followed by a pop up window:

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙰𝚋𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝—

"What the hell..." she whispered. What was going on? This wasn't human. She might not know who she was but she knew this wasn't normal. How could she see and hear—

Monster.

Machine.

You're not human.

I told you I'd follow you.

Even after you lost everything I would still be there.

"Buttercup, Love, look at me." The guy—Butch?—drew her face to look at him. "How do I fix this?"

"I don't..." She shook her head. "Who are you? Who am I? What's going on?" She wanted to cry. Wanted to curl up and admit defeat. Buy some gut instinct told her that she couldn't cry. That crying made her weak.

No, that didn't make any sense. Crying was apart of life. It's how—

Weak.

Pathetic.