Shards of Moonlight || A Short-story Collection

Crushed Heart and Broken Soul - A

Shots. The clinking of glass cut through my eardrums, my vision blurred. I held onto a piece of silky fabric as groping hands grabbed onto my thighs, taking in the smooth skin with relish. I did not care anymore. That cheating, lying, and sneaking-behind-my-back pig trashbag-husband. "Leave the lady alone," an authoritative voice sounded and I instinctively reached towards it. My high heels twisted and I stumbled against a rich, resin smell. Fierce blue eyes blazed, meeting mine and I pushed away from him only to fall back. Let me hit my head and end this pain.

My skin prickled under the sun rays of an early morning. I lazily turned onto my belly and stuck the Ray-Bens' onto my provoking, strappy bikini. My ankles crossed as I relished in the taste of my watermelon slices. I did not belong to him anymore, finally I could take a free breath having dropped my Anker in front of the Croatian island called Korčula.

A groan sounded from inside of the mini yacht's cabin. "What's the score?", I called out to him, chuckling. Messy blond hair, sticking to his forehead appeared while he gave me a pout. "310," he grumbled, raking his fingers through the thick, wavy chaos. Those thrilling blue eyes sent thrills over my back, roaming my body. "I assume you plan on spending the whole morning on beating my high score?", I mimicked his pout, tracing my collarbones slowly, pretending to flirt inadvertently. A pair of muscled arms heaved the whole package onto the deck, nearly shoving the watermelon out of my hand. "Hey!", I spinkled him with the sticky water on my hands.

"You're going to pay for that, sugar," he lifted an eyebrow and dived head in from the tip of the boat, spraying salty water over me. With a laugh I gracefully balanced over the side of the boat towards its back, where the seawater nipped on the white, rough plastic ground. I let my legs dangle into the cool Blue, while he pulled himself up onto his elbows next to me, the stamp on his left chest glistening golden in the sun. "How did you get that?", I asked, head cocked to one side. His eyes visibly darkened, as he turned his face away. For a second I feared that he resented me for my cocky attitude. "War. They took and tortured us, hoping to get anything useful out of us both," he had lifted himself behind first onto the plattform, his body language tense and gulped, "they killed my best friend. If our people had not taken the cabin by force..." I apologized and rubbed his back soothingly. "I should have gone first and taken the blow-," he stated in pain before I cut him off: "You saved my life and gave me purpose. This trip was a metaphor for how my life came to an end on my honeymoon." A weak smile appeared on his lips. "I am glad we're here now."