She was attempting to clam the hot burst of bubbling rage inside her when she first saw him. She was taking long breaths and her head was swimming. Her palms were covered in sharp moon shaped marks that would stay for a few hours at least; courtesy of her nails. She also knew she must look like a sight for sore eyes. More than a few people have very visibly and dare she say in a very cliché fashion done a double take after glancing at her face. She was still stewing somewhat pleased with the reaction of people and yet also irate as the unnecessary fearful glance. She was marching steadily trying to forget the events that had taken place just a few hours ago with little success.
That's when she took a wrong turn and quite literally stomped into what looked like a torture session. Why they were doing it out in the open, where anyone could stumble upon them, was beyond her. And yet here she was startled out of her fury as she watched a gang of men all dressed in black; beat and pull, spit and jeer at a lone man in the middle.
She was frozen for a moment, perhaps for a moment too long. The man being beaten looked up to meet her eyes. They were green. Both of his eyes were swollen and the skin around it was a shade of blue and black that she had only seen when she attempted to experiment and mix paint together. He attempted to move towards her, alerting the rest of the gang. They stopped and looked to see what had caught his attention. All but one. There was one member still who continued to punch the member, again and again, and again. His hands glistening with the blood of the victim that was strangely beautiful and tantalizing. A voice whispered in her head at how beautiful his hands were. How it would look if she were to attempt to paint it, how it would feel to capture the colors and the details on her canvas.
No, she shook her head. Her breath caught in her throat. She took a breath and looked around wildly. The men all had a look of surprise on their faces, slowly turning to one of amusement and mirth. Her chest shook, her eyes watered at the turn of their expressions. She chanted in her head to keep calm, to not show any weakness. Hadn't she practiced in the mirror at home after the first time she had cried publicly, after the first time she felt like a weakling? Hadn't she buried the ability to cry? Hadn't she taught herself to be pristine and classy and beautiful and -
She stumbled backwards unconsciously. The guy who was beating the green eyes man had finally stopped. He looked up his face twisted into confusion and a little bit of anger, as he inquired why everyone had stopped. Finally, he looked up, straight at her slowly and deliberately. Like a prey discovering a new predator. This time her breathe didn't catch and her hands didn't shake. Her head didn't swim and she didn't get dizzy. No, this time she was frozen, or perhaps petrified would be the best word.
He was all sharp cheekbones and dark hair and he was mesmerizing. She stood up straighter. He was intimidating but he wouldn't shake her. No. She was too strong for him. His gaze sharpened at this and he bared his teeth before he smiled. He smiled a smile; so ugly, so vile and so repulsive, she felt bile rising at the back of her throat.
After chanting she wasn't scared for the hundredth time, she shook her head again. Who was she kidding? She was scared, oh so scared, she didn't even care if she looked less than pristine and classy.
"Help. Help me, please. Save me" the beaten and bruised green eyes man begged as he once again crawled towards her.
She broke out of her trance. Her brain took a second to process what was happening and in a whirl, she did the only thing smart thing that, she should have done some three minutes ago, she ran.