Saints (SAINTS #1) | ✓

15

WHEN JASMINA GOT HOME, everything seemed quiet. She had left school early, ditching the sins in her classroom as she called her personal driver and left. Priyanka's words didn't mean anything to her, she was sure of that - after all, how could they?

Words don't hurt someone who doesn't have a heart.

Still, she was annoyed by it, by everyone. She hadn't had a single moment alone ever since she died and was resurrected and it suffocated her. It wasn't like she had been someone who surrounded herself with people anyway, they just usually surrounded her.

The scent of money was like blood to the piranhas in their world and she had long learned to bite instead of waiting to be bitten.

As she walked in her huge, empty mansion, a memory of Alan came back to her.

She was young, ten at most, and her hair was tied up in an elaborate braid, her eyes already cynical at that age. Alan was all charming grins and devilish eyes, he too well-aware that the world lied at his feet. So as they were walking through the elaborate land belonging to her family, he feared nothing as he runned and jumped and laughed, one with the wind.

She didn't follow him in his carefree movements, not caring for the gap that formed between them as she trailed behind. Her mother had always told her never to run, to hold her back straight and walk with the kind of grace that people couldn't keep their eyes away from. She didn't care about grace, but she cared about their opinion more than she would ever let them know then, so she refrained from following Alan.

"Look, Jas!" he said as he ran back to her, eyes gleaming with excitement.

She frowned as she looked at him, unsure what he was about to show her, until he pushed his hands in her face and opened them.

A butterfly spread it's wings and escaped from his hands, fluttering it's pale blue wings as it flew free yet again. And despite the fact that her earrings alone were worth more than any ordinary person would ever be able to afford, in that moment all she wanted was to follow suit.

"Flying is such a human dream, isn't it?"

Jasmina blinked, the memory fading as quickly as it came, before she looked up to the source of the voice. There, one floor above her, standing at the top of the spiraling stairs, stood a stunning man.

She knew he had to be a sin before he even said something else, merely by his looks alone. His hair was the shadow of dusk on soil, his eyes the most haunting ones she had ever seen. They were the softest blue, reminiscent of a sky in the middle of the day, sunshine warming your back as you take a nap. The nebulae blended under his eyes brought out the color even more, the shadows so dark she wondered if he ever slept at all. She had to blink twice to get the fatigue that suddenly was starting to seep through her out.

His posture was relaxed as he looked at her, arms folded on the railing and his chin resting on them as he watched her. It was then she remembered what he had said and she parted her lips as confusion took over.

"What did you say about flying?" she said.

"Your memory," he said, as if it was the obvious answer.

"How do you know my memory?" she frowned.

"How do you think that surfaced in your head?" he said as he glanced at her," it's my ability."

"Ability?" Jasmina said," you all really are using your powers for useless reasons, aren't you?"

He didn't seem that interested to continue speaking, the effort of his other replies seeming to have taken a toll on him as he leaned his head forward, hair spilling down.