At first, it was hazy. Nothing but a buzzing in my ears and strange numb, vibrating feelings coming from my fingertips. My eyes felt as if they were glued together, encased in cement, and buried under the dirt. Yet at the same time, I was warm.

It was so sudden that my sore body shot up all at once, and the eyes that I believed no longer worked, ripped them self open. My head pounded.

I was alive.

How? Was it not moments ago that I lay in the snow contemplating life and death, counting each volatile step in agony?

The last thing I even remotely remember is stammering into the God forbidden town that my grandpa disappeared in.

I look down, and I see silky white sheets and a soft pink comforter.

I look up, and I see curtains draped across tall french windows, the curtains embroidered with what I could say is of the finest lace. A basic lamp stood nearby which seemed extraordinarily extravagant despite the simplicity. Goodness gracious, where am I at?

I attempt to stand up, beginning to panic. Yet, I simply fall to the floor. My knees too weak to hold up my meager body.

I have to find Grandpa. He needs me. What if he's trapped somewhere and needs help? I start to cry, and tears drench my face. I was in an unknown place and had no idea about the real world. The only real world I'd ever been in was my books.

I crawl to the door, my knees scraping the smooth wooden floors and my arms trembling. I attempt to open it, but it wouldn't budge. Somebody must've locked me inside! Crying harder, I bang on the door and call for help. Surely someone will let me out.

My body ached as I crawled back to the bed. Too feeble to stand up and get on the bed, I pulled down the sheets and curled myself into them.

I stayed there for what I felt was another five minutes before the door started rattling and shaking. Scared, I slid underneath the bed. Hoping to conceal myself at least until I felt safe.

A loud booming voice called out as the door screeched open. I trembled, "Kitten?" he sang out in a singsong voice. "Well, where could she have possibly gone?" His heavy footsteps suddenly stopped next to the bed and my breathe hitched. Tears streamed down my face.

His exceptionally large feet pointed in an outwards forty five degree angle. The boards creaked as he began to kneel down. My heart skipped at least five beats as I waited in anticipation for him to find me.

Abruptly, I feel my body being dragged by the sheets that I lay on. I entwined my legs in the blanket and contorted my body so that I didn't have to look up at the man who was in the room. Yes, he may have helped me when I was about to die in the snow, but there is no way I can talk to him. I'd never talked to anyone other than my own family. Even that was limited.

"Little girl, why are you hiding from me?" He asks with a surprisingly soft voice.

I try to fold myself so I'm even smaller and hide my face in the sheets. My back facing him at this point, I hope that if I can't see him then maybe he'll disappear.

I feel his large hand grasp my bicep. He makes an effort to roll my body towards him. I struggle, but fall short as his other hand clutches my body and draws me in so that I'm facing him. "Hmm," he hums, "I asked you a question. It would be rude to ignore it."

I squeeze my eyes shut tighter and turn my face so that he can't see me. I murmur in a tiny voice, "I-I wasn't hi-hiding."

"No?" He grips my chin and turns it towards him. I feel his hot breath on my nose and a I shiver with fear at our close proximity. "The last time I checked, it wasn't normal to sleep under bed with only these thin sheets." He takes my face and turns it side to side gently but still forcefully, examining every inch of it. "But I suppose you're not very normal, now are you?" I didn't need to see, to be able to feel his sweltering gaze on my face studying me as if I were a tapestry.

He sighs before standing up, taking me with him, he supports my body and sets me on the bed so that only my feet hang off. I can hear him start to walk away. At first, I thought he was leaving but then I can tell he's pacing back and forth. "I've never seen you in this town. I know just about everyone here, but not you. No, I've never seen a face like yours." He stops pacing and I crack my eyes open to see why he stopped.

I'm instantly shocked by what I see. His eyes were almost unnatural. A slicing icy blue stared back at me from across the room. His eyes were swirling, something I had never seen. I had only seen brown eyes, for that's what grandpa and grandma had. Warm brown eyes just like mine.

I stare in a comatose like state underneath my eyelashes. He was a big man, larger than Grandpa. He looks about as big as a bear, and has bulging muscles that seem uncomfortable in his tight black shirt. His blonde hair was spiked up in a menacing stance that gives his large features even more attention.

He looks at me in a weird way, his scarred eye glaring into my eyes. My doe eyes looked at his face and saw his lips turned downwards in an angry state. I instantly shut my eyes and turn away.

He chuckles darkly and says, "Ah, so she can see."

I frown and turn around to crawl under the covers, "O-of course I can see," I whisper. Suddenly, I feel my feet being pulled back until they're off the bed and dangling in between his legs. I feel his hand press onto my head and stuff my face into the comforter. I start to shake again, and my throat starts to get a knot in it.

"Do you know who I fucking am?" He asks, pushing my face further in.

I promptly shake my head no, confused at his rough brusque anger.

His hands wrap in my knotted hair and he pulls me up until I can properly breath again. I gasp and extend my arms so that he can't push me back down. Instead, he turns me around, shoving my face so that I can see his crazed eyes bore into me. His electric blue ovals were but millimeters away from mine and he turns to whisper in my ear. "Little kitten," he brushes my neck with his rough, greedy hands, "I don't know who you are or why you're in my town, but I will break you." Grazing soft kisses down my neck, "I own this town," he bites my earlobe, "and I fucking own you."

I start to lean into his touch, my confusion overwhelming my fear. Why did his touch feel so good? When Grandpa touched my face or hugged me it never felt like this. So why was the angry man making me feel like this.

I became hyper aware that my legs were separated by his large figure and the white woolen dress I had been wearing rode up past mid-thigh.

My eyes flutter when he leans back to look at me. I never imagined a man to look like this, I figured one might look like Grandpa or have a faint resemblance to the handsome men in my fairy tale books. He was different. I'm not sure if I could even call the man in front of me handsome. Handsome was a man with beautiful features: a soft jaw, long swoopy hair, a sweet smile. He was not handsome. He was jagged, and rough around the edges. I found my hand itching to touch the scar on his face. It was a blemish, a crude mark on his masculine features. His slight stubble made him look battered.

Before I could stop my own hand, it reached up to touch him. Yet, that wasn't the scariest part. The scariest part was that he let me. He let my small finger tips trace his imperfections. It suddenly seemed so fascinating. How someone this rugged could be so... bewitching. I slide my hand to his scar, letting his branded face consume me. The curve and indention that was ingrained into him.

It was tantalizing. The way his flaws seemed so flawless.

My hand dipped down to his chapped lips and traced the outline of them. Then, I went to each and every small cut on his face and traced them three times. I wondered what he did to get those scars. I wondered if it hurt. Once, about two years ago, I was running up the stairs too fast and tripped. I cut my forehead open and refused to go back up the stairs for days.

Entranced in his face, my hands drifted along his course ethereal skin and landed back onto the large branded figure that lay on his face. I flitted my eyes back into his spellbound ones and leaned into his scar. Closing my eyes, my lips danced across his skin. Each nerve twisting and turning to the sound of a Moonlight Sonata. My lips decorated his face, for each dip and abyss in his skin was deeper than the last.

His pain flew from his fingers with maniacal laughter. With one hand gripping my hair and the other digging deep in my back. I didn't care that it hurt, or that I knew it would leave a bruise. I wanted it to hurt. The pain that chaotically drifted into my body was ornamented and garnished with my lips.

For what I showed him was grace.

The grace that I gave would last him forever. My fingers clasped his disheveled hair. I may be new to this cold unforgiving world but I knew he was still broken. He lay shattered just as I do. Yet, maybe together we could clean each other up. Glue our pieces together and hope for the best.

My lips tingled and felt unspoken words be whispered into his ear.

His tenacious fingers loosened against me and he broke away from my face with widened eyes. I leaned back in and touched his nose with mine. I looked at him beneath my long black eyelashes, "L-Lucy."

"Laxus," he replied.

Inspiration is the best nation! Finally hit y'all with that dialogue;) I'm from Arkansas, comment where you're from in the comment section so I know y'all actually read these AN's! Also, if anyone has questions about my book, feel free to comment them or pm me and I'll be sure to answer back.

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