The Broken Ones

The Broken Ones

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing42m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Fri, Nov 16, 2018
A toned muscled body stood over at me. Not a brick wall, but a wall of solid muscle that gleamed with sweat in the early morning light. red stained the tips of his hair, darker than the night itself; a shadow on a shining piece of sun, reminding me of blood dripping off of a dagger. I didn't know why his appearance made me think of these kind of things, but he was deadly. I could tell, even through my slightly foggy vision, and he knew it too, just by the way he sauntered off, not even looking back at me. I couldn't help myself as i took in the back of him. The lower part of his back was showing from a black cut off sleeveless crop top, and black jeans gave him the perfect amount of sharpness a weapon would have.
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"Kill..." the low whispering voice trailed off into my head. I don't think the strange whispering voice came from anyone in the room. It was too loud; too abnormel; too deadly. Suddenly a cold shiver ran down my back making me scream and cry out for someone, something, anything. I want to be alone, somwhere dark, somewhere safe. My eyes open to see a woman cradling me in her arms. A man with red eyes, tan skin, and blonde hair starred at me. His eyes sunk into my head making me wince. The woman is natuarlly warm and comfortable, but her face is stained with tears mixed with blood on her, once beautiful, face. She smeared some of the blood onto my puffy cheeks with a warm beaten and calloused hand. "You're gonna be okay," she assured me. More tears fell from her eyes. I looked closer into her grayish, I think, eyes. They had evil tucked beneath fear in them. I don't know what she means, yet her words mean the world to me at this very moment: 4 minutes ago, I was born.

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