❝I hurt people;
especially pretty girls like you ❞
In which an innocent but broken girl foxtrots with insanity.
And the music only stops when a demented man says so.
➳
Criminal psychology student...
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With unsteady hands, Tahlia wiped away the small beads of perspiration that had indistinctly formed on her skin.
It confused her a bit, how one could possibly sweat in the middle of this chilly Westfield transitional weather, the warmth in the room outweighing the otherwise freezing atmosphere.
And then she saw him.
That's when it clicked; he made the difference.
It had to be him, his presence solely responsible for sending the embers of the fire sizzling, fostering heat in the cold undercurrents.
He was lying on his stomach, hair pooling all over the pillow, concealing his face. While he had the blue sanatorium pants on, his upper body was unmistakably bare.
Tahlia took one step forward, grippingly.
Her eyes were met with various little swirls of dusky amber that ran all along his back, branching into obscurity. Some of it was deeper in hue, some if it was closer to his skin color, almost going unnoticeable. Almost.
She'd almost forgotten he was scarred.
"You know, I could get used to waking up like this."
Tahlia flinched in her position, the sound of the raspy voice having startled her unforeseen.
She involuntarily pranced backwards, as the body in front of her slowly started coming back to life.
He rose, as gracefully as all those heroes in the movies did— undaunted and supreme.
But this wasn't the movies, it was an insane asylum. He ought not to be so perfect.
Tahlia had already anticipated the smirk that adorned his lips as he turned to face her.
"Looking for something Natalia?" He teased.
She turned her head away in horror, realizing she'd been caught staring at him like a creep all this time.
She turned her gaze back only when she heard him chuckle lightly. She was met with the sight of his back once again, as he put on a shirt, just like the movies.
She watched as the now-familiar blue cloth replaced the sight of the burn scars.
After his long fingers were done straightening the shirt out, he swerved back, slowly taking his seat at the desk.
The nurse, who she'd almost even forgotten was there with her, walked up to him, wordlessly cuffing him to the desk per usual. All while he kept looking into her eyes.
Tahlia sat down mimicking his actions, her mind not able to process independent basic thought, it seemed.
