white.
blinding, opaque white. she didn't see color. scanning her eyes around the room, she was adjusting, the feel of sandpaper-like bedsheets all but crumbling in her hands.
that was until she met ryker's eyes, bleak and blue like midnight, deeper than the ocean. so deep she could swim in them, clashing around and being pulled in under the ocean waves.
she was drowning in ryker.
and then she was gasping and writhing underneath, not wanting to be sucked in and encased in all that was him. it was both beautifully wonderful and tragically desolate, the high tide caged by her ribs, the water in her lungs, the way she felt. she couldn't breathe and she didn't mind.
"what's your name, dear?"
her eyes didn't stray from ryker's.
"she doesn't speak." his voice was homey, soft like the sand that she'd crawled upon after escaping his tugs, she hadn't fallen for him yet.
she couldn't.
she was too wrapped up in awe at how he had saved her, she wasn't thinking.
ryker was vividly blue like an ocean and she was nothing but a puddle.
YOU ARE READING
beautiful
Proză scurtăstory #3 in the 'for the flawed' series. tw | abuse he thought he could fix her he thought he could make her b e a u t i f u l but beauty is in the eye of the beholder. (lowercase intended for stylistic purposes.) © 2015 flawed-
