Khlōros
- Reads 2,172
- Votes 53
- Parts 10
Ongoing48m
Last published Thu, Oct 24, 2013
"Mark!" Lauren chirped into his house as she opened the door to let herself in. A eerie silence filled the house; the only sound being the clip-clop of her heals. Her white flowy gown trailed behind her as she walked through the halls. "Mark?" Lauren quested stressing the K for effect. Lauren gasped when she saw a figure on the ground. She dropped to her knees by his side.She looked at his face and was instantly reminded of the word her grandmother taught her; khlōros. A Greek word used to describe the color of death. In English khlōros would translate into white or pale but he wasn't white, he wasn't pale. he was khlōros. It was the color of dead flesh. Grey with a yellow green tent...ashen. Mark gazed up at her with unblinking eyes. Eyes that would never blink again. She looked from his face for a second to see his hand clenched around a small velvet box..... A ring box. "Who?" Lauren asked almost like she was expecting a reply. "Me" a dark voice answers from across the room. Lauren jumped up and pulled away from the body of her love, backing up closer to the wall. The man was near the door and only window so there was no chance of escape. Lauren heard herself scream. Then the man steped out of the shadows into the light. His night sky eyes glimmered. his shaggy dirty blond hair was so different than Marks short curly black hair and ordinary brown eyes. The depth of the mans blue eyes weakened her then she heard him reply to her question with a tiny smile. "All's fair in love and war."
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Dr. Lee Heeseung stepped quietly into the room, clipboard in hand, but his gaze was drawn immediately to the figure on the bed. Jake sat there, knees pulled close, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his oversized shirt. His eyes darted around the room with guarded curiosity, shy, but not entirely closed off. His lips were slightly pouted, and there was a softness to him that didn't match his age. "Hi there, little one," Heeseung said gently, lowering himself into the chair across from the bed. His voice was smooth, kind, like he wasn't just speaking to a patient, but to someone who needed warmth. Jake peeked up at him, eyes wide. "Who are you, mister?" he asked, tilting his head ever so slightly. "I'm Heeseung. I'm here to keep you safe," he replied with a smile that wasn't clinical, but real. Jake didn't answer right away. He just hummed softly and tugged at his sleeve. The room felt still, but not uncomfortable, like something delicate had just begun to bloom. Heeseung had seen trauma manifest in many forms, but this......this was different. Jake wasn't broken. He was protecting himself the only way he knew how. And Heeseung was determined to understand every piece of him. But..... there's always another side of the story you don't know😉 Read to find out👉📖
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