Colorless
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In a world where color made everything. People were ruled by what their hair color was. Different colors wielded different powers. Nobody had seen a White in a millennia but there I was. A White of only 18 locked in a cell since before I can remember.
Then he came. Another White. They told me I was a mistake. They told me I was impossible. But he stands. Another impossibility. Only he held out his hand like a friend. He didn't raise it like an enemy. He treated me like a person. The first to see past my hair.
So I took his hand and I let him lead me into a world of rebels. Into a world of misfits and strangers. He lead me to freedom. And I live everyday grateful that he broke me out. Even if in the end we destroyed each other.
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She didn't reply and I felt her finger move across my skin, lower, and almost all the way down my lower back. A shiver coursed through my body, strangely pleasant, and I felt her finger stop. "Your tattoos are beautiful," she said softly. Too close. She was too close. My pulse was hammering and I could feel her cool breath against my skin when she spoke, and my body was warm from having felt her. I couldn't reply. My breathing was light and shaken. I wanted to just turn around and pull her against me, or rather put her against a wall, so I could kiss her and feel her more properly against me. If she touched me again, I wasn't sure that I could keep myself from doing just that. "I'm going to take a shower," I said suddenly in an attempt to escape. She didn't stop me, so I took that opportunity to walk away. When I reached the bathroom, I took a deep breath to steady myself as well as my pulse. Closing the door behind me, I ran a hand through my hair. She truly was a nightmare. A bad boy's worst nightmare was a girl that made him want to be a good one.
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