They say curiosity is a bad thing

They say curiosity is a bad thing

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing44m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Fri, Mar 26, 2021
It was the evening. A fresh October evening, like any other. People going home from work, students chatting after a long school day... It was that evening, cold and bitter, wind bellowing its anguish at the lost of summer warmth, that enventless October day at six pm that Anastasia decided to end it all... ... ...but she shoved someone in the crowd. The wrong someone. Or was it the right someone ..? " Kieran was over the edge. It had been a long, boring day. The senseless and constant bickering of his classmates did not help. He hadn't killed in three months and his urges were driving him crazy. Or was he already? He did not care. All that mattered was to find an easy prey. he just needed to kill. Grab someone, get them somewhere hard to find and strangle them, break their fingers, stab them again and again AND AGAIN! And just leave the body on the floor to bleed to dea- His musing was stopped by a girl his age shoving him while passing... She didn't offer an apology nor did she even turn. While it wouldn't have mattered any other day, today Kieran had been struggling to hold himself from attacking someone at school all day. And now... Now this lost sheep was getting away from the herd. And she shoved the Big Bad Wolf..."
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There's this silence between us that stretches longer than it should, and it wraps around my chest like a weighted blanket. My throat tightens. I stare at him like I'm trying to memorise the face of someone who shouldn't exist. A dream made real. My lips part before I can stop myself. "Were you sent by my dad to take care of me?" The question hangs in the air, trembling like the last leaf in autumn. Aiden's gaze softens. His lips tug into the gentlest smile I've ever seen. It's the kind of smile that could mend broken wings. "No" he whispers. "I volunteered." The words hit harder than I expect. Like a punch wrapped in silk. I gasp, air leaves me in a rush I can't reclaim. But before I can fully process what he's just said, he takes a step closer. His fingers ghost over my cheek, brushing away a tear I didn't realise had fallen. And then-he kisses me painfully slow. His hand cups the back of my neck, anchoring me to a moment I never want to end. And just when I think it's over, he pulls away just enough to look at me. His thumb traces the damp trail of tears down my cheek. He doesn't say anything. He just leans in again, and kisses them away. One by one. My tears. My pain. My silence. All kissed away by a boy who didn't come to save me because someone sent him. He came because he chose to.

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