If only you could hear my screaming.

If only the sky wasn't so jagged in your eyes.

If only this moment wouldn't last forever.


When I was a little girl, I had always thought that my prince charming would whisk me off of my feet and love every breath from my perfect red lips until the day I died. It would happen in high school and we would be together from the fist time we laid eyes on each other. He'd be tall, with that perfect blond hair that would never get in the way of his soft green eyes. His pearly teeth would show when he laughed and his hands would graze mine, lightly enough to be innocent but just hard enough to make me know how much he loved me.

I was sixteen when I met him. That boy who I wanted to be my only one. He was tall like I'd imagined but his hair was black. Not dyed black, just black on its own like he was supposed to be different than everyone. His eyes were the darkest of browns, just a second away from being the same shade as his hair. I was sixteen. It was two years after we should've met. He wasn't a football player or even a basketball player. He wasn't a player of any sort, instruments included. In his hands was always a tiny black notebook and a pen. A red ballpoint pen. He never let them go, even when he was with me.

But he wasn't how he was supposed to be. Nothing was how it was supposed to be. He took me and he broke me in half. Except I loved every single brush of his skin against mine. Even the times he made me cry, made me ache, made me bleed, I loved it. And I loved him. The way I wanted to love my prince charming, I loved him.

Deacon almost seemed to seek me out. The way a predator seeks out their perfect prey, singling out the weakest one of the group. That's how Deacon found me. Maybe he watched us all for eons or maybe he just happened to glance up and notice that I was the one without the confidence. Either way, I had no confidence and he knew it. He must've seen it somehow, the way it didn't radiate off of me like it did the other girls.

He was nineteen when we met. It was after school one day and I was on my way home. I stopped for coffee across the street from school but decided on hot chocolate instead. It was so cold outside, like an odd violence in the air. I never saw Deacon come in as I waited and I never saw him sitting anywhere inside so he must've been lurking somewhere, the way I later discovered he was so good at.

My hands were circling the chalky-feeling paper cup as I walked slowly to the door, not wanting to go back out into the cold. There was soft music playing in the background, some old crooner that I didn't recognize, not that I really knew too many crooners anyway. I heard his footsteps behind me, soft but still heavy on the tiled floor. That clinking metal sound was accompanying him and I knew before looking that he would be wearing chains of some sort. I was curious about who was behind me but determined not to turn around, lest I be too obvious.

The crisp air slammed into my cheeks like a curled fist and I lost my breath at that same moment I stepped outside. I inhaled sharply and held tighter to my hot chocolate. I hated the cold weather that was always lingering around me. There was just something about winter that I couldn't keep myself from hating. It was beautiful but so forceful and so painful. The cold was painful and I hated it.

I began my walk home, wishing that my mother would give me rides after school. She didn't work and yet she would never pick me up. It was so cold and she would just sit inside in front of the fireplace and let me brave the winter. Then again, I had never really asked. But maybe she should've offered.


I stiffened. The person behind me with the chains had said my name. He'd known my name. How had he known my name?

"That's a beautiful name."

Biting my lip, I stopped walking. I eased my head around and found myself staring at some sort of god. He was beautiful but in a strange way. In a punk rock, tattooed, angsty kind of way. But still so beautiful. He had a lip ring and an eyebrow ring. I loved it, every second of it. Every frame of the moving moments I loved. I never wanted to look away again.


Author's Note: This is just the start of something. It sort of came to me so I thought I'd put it up. I'll update as soon as I can. I promise not to take too long. Let me know what you think.