Chapter Fifteen

~ Maka ~

Hundreds of paper cranes sat around the room. Some toppled over against the ground, some caught between the blinds from where I had thrown them. And others floating across the surface of my bed sheets.

I gripped tightly onto the silver I-pod I hadn't let go of since the day I received it. I didn't dare try to let it go since it was the only existing source of happiness that I had received in a very long time.

Chris Daughtry was one of the artists built into it, as well as Green Day, He is We and The Maine. And with every song that passed though the earphones, my love for music grew stronger than I ever thought it could.

I twiddled with the wire, twinning it carefully around my index finger as if I was extremely frail and music was the only thing that could save me.

But still I continued to to wrap it round my finger until the whole of my hand began to feel excruciatingly numb.

"You're love drunk, you're blinded," I mumbled along with the words passing through my ears. "You've lost the ones who loved you most."

By now my father had given up. He had gone back to his drinking paradise, and taken his ability of carelessness along with him. Like he was never here in the first place.

I felt my wounds healing beneath their bandages, stinging greatly as the skin slowly pulled itself back together. Leaving behind a white jagged scar.

"This liars, on fire," I closed my eyes. "Melted like wax, a mess it grows."

I was oblivious to the last time I had slept peacefully. But as I sat there gracing myself with the beautiful presence of music, it was like sleep was built for those who wished to escape. And in that moment - I never wanted to escape again.

He had come for me. The golden eyed, black haired boy had come to the hospital to find me. And not only that, he had saved me - again.

The I-pod I held so securely in my hands belonged to him, but he had brought it to me to make sure that - in a way - I wasn't alone.

I knew that's what it was.

And I wanted him to return for me.

~ Death the Kid ~

I sat in my tree without my I-pod. Delighted by the fact that it was sitting in the hands of her, rather than myself.

The trunk felt beautifully hard against my back, edges digging into my skin as if it were trying its absolute hardest to defy me. But no matter what, it couldn't harm me.

My legs hung from the edge of the branch I sat against, like they were trying to pull me to my death - cause it seemed that death was all I was thinking about lately.

The paper crane turned slowly between my fingers. Its paper wings flapping as they were caught by the winds forceful grasp. Wanting to flee beautifully, just like its creator.

It felt soft against my skin, like its purity was reaching out to be protected by my presence, and my presence only.

And then I realised.