Three: Destroying Something Beautiful

He had told her to stay away. It was her own fault she hadn't listened. But in a sense, as he observed her pretty mouth and freckled nose from across the table in Boylan's bar, he was glad that she was here.

"You're so beautiful," he told her, mesmerised. Her angelic features beckoned him and he readjusted himself in his seat in order to lean forward and touch her.

For the first time in a long time, he felt like a child again, hypnotised by something pretty. He paused, suddenly recalling a tinier, more innocent version of himself, enthralled by the pretty things of the world; chasing insects that intrigued him with their glow, their complex patterns, their perfect symmetry. But having had his childhood cruelly snatched from him, he had forgotten how to handle such creatures. Instead, they would crumble in his hands, dead, destroyed. And his younger self would mourn the loss and not understand why the beautiful things had turned against him, why everything he touched seemed to crumble in his hands.

But as always, he couldn't help himself when he saw something desirable, something he wanted. So he touched her face, felt her warmth, her softness. Because he could. He tried to be gentle, but she looked pained, disturbed.

"Lucas, stop."

He ignored her. He just wanted to look at her a while longer, to have something beautiful in his life, and enjoy the sensation of her silky cheeks against his fingertips.

"Lucas," she said again, pulling his hand away. But instead of backing off, he laced his fingers through hers. He held her hand tightly, refusing to let go. He couldn't. And then he guided it up to his lips, hovered over her slender fingers, and kissed them. She sat frozen to her chair and watched, unnerved, as his lips circled around her knuckles, making her joints go weak. His eyes closed, savouring the feeling, when he felt a tap on his shoulder and the explosion of pain as something hard smashed in to his skull, causing him to release Skye and collapse on to the floor.

"Josh!" he heard his female companion shout as he felt another beating come his way. A shot to the face, and another, and he was sprawled out on to the floor. Dazed, he looked up to see the Shannon boy being restrained, his fists waving in the air and his face full of fury. Lucas wobbled to his feet, recovering from the blows, blind anger overcoming him. And then he saw Skye's blurred figure by the steps, torn from him, her angelic features distorted. His eyes focused on Josh, his vision gradually returning. Skye watched with panic and as Lucas struck back, she screamed his name, begging him to stop.

He didn't care. He felt like destroying something beautiful. And so he picked up his bruised fist, and let Josh crumble.