I had this idea for a while now. Decided to write it.

She walked down the street, practically limping, hoping someone would notice. Her eyes glued to the ground, she was careful not to step on any bug below. She felt they deserved to live more than she did. The bottom of her black flats scraped the asphalt underneath her as she merely dragged her feet across, not bothering to pick them up. They were just shoes.

It was cold and humid outside, but the only thing to cover her exterior was a mere short purple dress. It was lacy in the back, similar to a corset, and had a tutu-like appearance from the waist down. As the wind hit her bare shoulders and legs, she shivered. The clouds were dark and little by little, it began to drizzle, and each drop of water turned her dress into a darker purple. She didn't bother to cover herself. It was just a dress.

Her dishwater blonde hair was up in a messy bun, knotty after not brushing it for weeks. Her lips, chapped, were colored a dark maroon. Her eyes, a sea foam blue, were surrounded by thick black circles of eye liner. Her long lashes would have been a beauty to behold if not covered by a deep foundation of mascara. As a few drops hit them, one or two eyelashes fell to her cheeks, followed by streaks of mascara. She didn't bother to wipe it off. It was just her face.

A block away, a man with a crazed look upon his face grabbed for the money on the counter with his left arm, still pointing the gun at the frightened woman with his right. He smiled wickedly and winked at her as he shouted a few words to several other men and bolted off.

He didn't bother to open the glass door as he merely broke through it. Shards of glass flew in all directions, some leaving minor cuts on his cheeks. One pricked his forehead and stayed there for the moment. The rest either hit the ground beneath him or dug themselves into his white dress shirt. He had been wearing that and dress pants for the special occasion. His black shoes stomped the ground as he ran towards the car, looking back behind him and preparing to shoot.

Men were shouting behind him, a few of his and a few of the bank's. He shot several rounds without aiming anywhere, but was sure that one of his bullets lodged into one of the bank's men's arm. Still smiling, he was almost at the car, but as he turned back, he accidentally knocked into one of his own men. The money in his arms flew everywhere. Innocent bystanders watched the scene with wide eyes before making a run for the money. But the man was ruthless. He pointed his gun again and aimed.

The girl heard sirens coming towards her direction. She lifted her head to a slight angle to see a ruckus in the distance. Her eyes didn't falter. She only continued to walk in that general direction like she had done originally. She got closer with ease to see a crowd beginning to form around a small silver car. There was a man running towards it with a light complexion and dark hair. His face was angular, and his nose was pointy, but what she found odd was the fact he was wearing a coatless suit.

She walked on closer, not out of curiosity, but just to keep walking. Soon, she saw a quick flash of green explode into the air. Excited cries went out as people ran into the madness. Just as quick, though, a gun went off.

The man smiled as his three shots hit three of the people running into the green cloud. The people's bodies hit the cement, dead. A few screamed, but others found it difficult to see with the money flying around. The man was about to approach the car when the police finally showed up. He sighed, bored, and turned around to fire again. As he pulled the trigger, he heard a click. The gun was empty.

The girl stopped at the fifty dollar bill at her feet. She chose to ignore what little temptation she had left to pick it up and continued to walk until she walked right into the cloud. She stopped again to observe. All around was a dull flash of green. A sight to be seen, she observed. She heard a click of a gun. Turning her head to the left, she saw the man again with an angry look upon his face while he stared at the gun in his hands. His eyes were a vivid emerald green, the most enchanting color she'd ever seen, and she was entranced.

The man dropped the gun, knowing it was no use now. He remembered he had a knife in his right pocket, but it would only be good to stab two, three tops, police officers. As he began to raise his arms in the air, he noticed a girl in a dark, short purple dress timidly staring at him, waiting for his next move. He found her dress peculiar, but he could not remove his eyes from her dead sea foam blue eyes surrounded by streaks of black. He seized the moment to leap at the girl while reaching into his pocket for the knife.

The girl did not realize what was going on as she felt a strong hand grasp her arm with such great force. She was yanked towards the man as she felt a cold piece of metal slide up towards her chin. It took her several moments to comprehend what was going on. The cloud vanished only to find the man holding the girl close to him and nearly a dozen police officers with guns pointed towards them. The girl saw little escape for the man. But those eyes she saw in him led her to believe so much more in him... She wanted him to escape. She widened her eyes and screamed.

The man was pleasantly surprised to hear his victim beg for help from the police. He could see their inner struggles on deciding whether to shoot, in fear of hitting the girl. The man dragged the girl with him towards the car. The police cocked their guns with straighter arms, with looks of determination overcoming their faces. They did not want this man to get away.

She fumbled backwards. His grip on her arm began to hurt, and she wished he'd hurry to make his escape. But what he did next surprised even her. He released her arm momentarily to open the car door. Yet, as he did so, he grabbed her again and pushed her in, his knife still pointing at her throat. He hopped in and slammed the door. The driver accelerated as gunfire unleashed. The man ducked, pulling the girl down with him, as the windows shattered. He safely covered her head with his arm.

The girl slowly rose again. Her eyes wide, her heart was beating the fastest it had ever beaten. Her hands were shaking. She didn't know whether or not to look at the man. She hunched over and stared at her feet, at her new little cuts from the window glass.

The man observed her watching what he thought was the floor. He should kill her right then and there, but couldn't bring his arm to deliver the blow with his knife. All he'd be left with is a dead girl with a purple dress in his car. Instead, he focused on the disappearing sirens behind him as they made their way to the warehouse.

The girl was surprised she was still alive. Why hadn't he just struck her with that knife? She lifted herself a little bit and turned her head on a diagonal just enough to see him with her peripheral vision.

He noticed the movement from the corner of his eye. He looked straight into her eyes. The girl looked back at him. They stared into each other's eyes for what seemed like forever. They both had absolutely enchanting eyes. Slowly, without thinking, the man reached out to touch her cheek along a small cut she had gotten. The girl flinched at the sudden contact, and he quickly pulled his hand back. Her only surprise had been how soft his hands were. She wanted to be touched again, but as he quickly looked away, she pushed that thought into the back of her mind.

What happened when they got to the warehouse is unimportant. She was given a room there and stayed there for two weeks. In that time, she saw no trace of the man. A small boy came every now and then to bring her food. A little boy, she thought. What a sad life.

She was given no shower privileges and no new clothes. Most of the days, she huddled in the corner in the darkness. Every now and then, her hand would come up to her cheek to feel the fading cut on her cheek and remember his touch. When the cut finally vanished, she grew depressed. The cuts on her wrists would not fade, but the one cut that had brought her hope did. The nights passed slowly. She dreamed of emeralds.

Once the two weeks were gone, a man showed up to her door. Her eyes squinted as the sudden light had come into her room. Looking up at the intruder, he instructed her to get up and follow him. With aching knees, she did and dragged her feet into the hallway, her eyes still adjusting.

He led her to a bathroom. He led her to a different bathroom than she had usually gone in. He pointed to a black fabric laid on the counter and told her to put it on after she took a shower. Afterwards, he gave a small bag and walked away. She looked at the black bag and opened it to find make-up. The black fabric was a dress.

Doing as the intruder had told her to, she showered. She missed the feeling of scalding water hit her skin. She stood there for a few minutes and observed her skin turn a light pink color. Once she showered, she dressed herself into the black short dress, shorter than her previous one. This one had feathers going down from the waist, and a single strap going around her neck.

Looking into the small mirror, she applied mascara and eye liner as much as she usually would. Once she was done, she gave her face a long look. The cut really had vanished. Her eyes seemed more dead than before, no hope shining in them now. Her lips were bare and crusted. After what seemed like ten minutes, she finally decided to apply red lipstick to them. She looked at her feet. She had no shoes.

Just then, a knock at her door. She opened it and expected it to be the intruder, but it was her capturer holding a pair of heels. He stared at her immensely, examining each small detail of her face. Once getting a good mental picture, he handed her the shoes and told her to follow him. Quickly slipping them on, she did.

She followed him to a black, sleek car in the back of the warehouse. She immediately got in, a little curious of where he was taking her. However, she decided to be silent as she was sure she would soon find out. He told the driver to go.

The ride remained silent. She looked out the tinted window to the passing scenery. She saw him staring at her through the reflection. She pretended not to notice.

They arrived at a large, beautiful mansion. It was a mansion like this one that the girl had dreamed of before when she was a little girl. However, she found no reason why the man would want to go here. Too busy staring at the mansion, she didn't realize the man had already gotten out of the car. He went around to her side and opened her door. The girl was unfazed.

Finally, he pulled her out of the car a little rougher than he liked. She squeaked as she fell to her knees on the ground. Now the man really regretted it. He gently lifted her back up and examined her knees. Minor scratches. Her right hand was bleeding slightly near her lower thumb. She was fine.

He pulled out his gun. More men appeared out of arriving cars, all heavily armed. They were unnoticed in the massive amount of cars. The girl realized there was a party going on. A millionaire party. Another robbery.

The man, still holding on to the girl, took her through a side door where security had already been knocked out. He motioned for the rest of his men to follow him. They entered a magnificent room with a large chandelier hanging from above. The atmosphere felt wonderful. Hundreds of beautiful people in beautiful clothes were dancing beautifully having a beautiful time. The girl was awed. However, the atmosphere was hushed by a gunshot in the air.

The beautiful people now looked horrified at the guns pointed at them. The men screamed at them to shut up. The man released the girl and opened up his arms as if he was greeting everybody. He demanded two things. The first was money. People stared at him, gawking, but as a few more rounds went off into the air, people scrambled for their purses. He laughed a genuine laugh. His laughter reminded her of bells, sweet bells, she had heard as a child. She reminisced in the sound.

The man placed his gun back into his coat pocket. Lifting up his arms, he looked up at the chandelier, taking in its glory. This was the life he had always wanted but could never have. He closed his eyes and absorbed the magnificence of it all. He ordered his second command. A dance.

The band looked at him bewildered. Just as he was about to reach into his coat pocket again, they quickly grabbed for their instruments and began to play. The man looked back at the girl. She stared at him, her mouth slightly agape. He reached his hand out to her. She hesitated, lifting her hand towards her cheek again. Closing her mouth, she gave him that same hand. He pulled her closer to him. He placed his other hand on her lower back.

They began to dance, fixated on each other's eyes. She could see the lust for money, glory, and power in his emerald eyes. They were strong, determined, and willful. He could see the sadness in her sea foam eyes. They were weak, hopeless, and submissive. She wondered what caused him to become a criminal. He wondered what caused her such pain.

But what each of them missed in each other's eyes was the intense understanding in each other. Both were lost and had no one. But they were too different. Yet, they continued to spin in circles, holding each other, asphyxiated in each other's presence. The moment, however, was not to last as the police showed up.

Without warning, the man pushed the girl to the ground and reached into his coat pocket. The girl was bewildered. He pointed a gun down to her. All looks of understanding vanished from his eyes. The girl's eyes began to water as shots were fired. She looked down, preparing herself for death like she had done all her life. But nothing came.

She glanced up again to find him still staring at her with the gun pointing at her. His finger was trembling on the trigger. Slowly, he lowered the gun. Turmoil had broken out while the two had been staring at each other. He lifted his gun back up again, this time telling her that he was going to do it, that he was going to shoot her. She waited, a tear escaping from her eye. She remembered she was no one to him, just a hostage he had grabbed along the way. She was meant to die. She closed her eyes.

Again, nothing came. She heard the man curse under his breath. He grabbed for the girl and lifted her up to his level, pointing gun at her head. She played hostage as they ran out the side door together.

The girl stumbled in her heels as they ran further out. Night had fallen. He didn't need to push her into the car. She had quickly gotten in. This time, however, the man took the driver's seat. The keys had been left in the car. He started it and drove off. Still panting, he did not glance at the girl on the way back.

The girl pulled her legs up to her chest and rested her head on her knees. She quickly released to slip off her heels, and then got back in the same position. She felt tired, but her mind was racing, wide awake. He should have just shot her. It would have been a burden released for the likes of them.

But the man continued to drive. The girl soon realized that he wasn't driving back to the warehouse. She waited for approximately half an hour before the car screeched to a halt. The man kept the car running and got out. She knew to follow him. But as she got out of the car, she noticed the major change of atmosphere. They were no longer in the rich side of the city, but rather in the slums. He took her to a deserted alley.

The man pushed the girl against the wall and pulled out his gun. Once again, he cocked the gun at her. This had to be it, she thought. They were in an alley, with no one around. She would die in an alley, and he would leave her. She'd be alone forever.

He broke the silence. He told her he didn't want to shoot her. The girl was taken back by this as she stared at the gun pointed at her. The man told her to leave and never come back. He told her to run away. He told her to escape.

The girl thought about this for a moment. Where would she go? What would she do? How could she go back to her old life with her memories of the last two weeks and of the man with the emerald eyes? She shook her head and told the man to shoot her.

It was his turn to be taken back now. He lowered his gun and asked her if she wanted to die. The girl replied yes without hesitation. The man stared into her sea foam eyes for a bit. This girl with these beautiful eyes... wanted to die, he thought. It wasn't that he didn't want to shoot her. He did want to shoot her because he did not want to love her. He did not want to be emotionally attached to her. He just couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger with those sea foam blue pleading eyes staring at him.

He turned around and began to walk away. The man heard her take a step towards him, and he quickly turned around. He ordered her not to follow him. He turned around and left her there, feeling her stare seethe into his back. He left her there, cold and alone.

A part of him hoped that someone in the slums would find her and kill her for him to put him at rest. But the other part hoped she would find her way home and live on, maybe even find happiness. As he drove away, his heart ached more and more the farther he got. He returned to the warehouse and went straight to bed. He dreamed of the ocean and its sea foam.

The girl did find her way home back to her apartment. She was practically dead by the time she got back. She went to the bathroom to wash her face only to find a single streak of mascara down her cheek, reminding her of the previous tear from before. She looked at herself in the mirror. She couldn't get him out of her head. The more she thought about him, the crazier she became. She turned away from the mirror and thought she saw him from the corner of her eye. She looked back at the mirror and there he was. She was elated. Turning around with a sharp twist of her head, he vanished.

She looked back at the mirror to find him gone. Her eyes began to water again. She backed away from the mirror, grabbing for something behind her. She felt her telephone on a table. She threw it at the mirror and watching it crack. One shard fell off into the sink.

She approached the sink and grabbed for it. Slowly, she traced the point, only to find a small drop of blood emerge from her finger. She gazed into the cracked mirror. Bringing the shard up to her face, she made a small cut on her cheek where there had been before. With her other hand, she felt it.

Tears escaped. Bawling now, she used the shard to make little cuts on her arms and legs like there had been before. The tears would not stop coming. Her cheeks were covered in black now. She dropped to her knees. She cried the whole night.

She spent the next few days crying and thinking and crying from the thinking and thinking from the crying. On the third day, as night had fallen, she realized that her life was pointless, and she was ready to end it. But she would not be the one doing it. She dressed in the first dress she could find, a similar one to the purple one but in a dull pink, and left.

She drove around for hours looking for the warehouse, relying mainly on memories and familiar faces. After a few hours, she began to recognize the street she was on. She followed her gut, and eventually, the dark, gloomy warehouse was found. She stopped the car and got out, sprinting barefoot.

The man went outside for a smoke. He hadn't smoked for a few years now, but he craved a cigarette. He felt the cold air hit him as he walked outside. He reached down into his pocket. All he had was a knife and cigarettes. He dug into his other pocket and found a small gun that could only hold one bullet, but no lighter. He sighed when he heard someone running towards him. He saw the girl.

The girl stopped several feet away from him, panting. He looked at her, bewildered, and asked her if she brought the cops. She told him no. Instead, she told him she needed him. He stared at her. He wanted this girl. He knew that the moment he laid his eyes on hers that he wanted this girl. But he couldn't have her.

He loved her, but not in the immensity of the passion. He loved her for understand him. He loved her for not judging him. She'd seen people die because of him, but she'd come back to him no matter what. And he loved her for that. But he couldn't have her.

He told her to leave while he reached out for his knife. She shook her head. She told him she wasn't going to let him leave her this time. He threatened to kill her. She dared him to.

He placed the knife on her collarbone, his hands trembling again. She waited patiently for him to make his move. They stood in that position for what seemed like hours. He couldn't do it. He tried to point the knife right above her collarbone and pressed it a little into her skin. He couldn't push it any further. He stood there looking at the knife, commanding it to stab her. But it would not oblige.

He told he couldn't kill her, no matter how hard he tried. The girl looked as if she was about to cry. They stared into each other's eyes, almost lovingly. She laid a hand on his. He enjoyed the touch.

Suddenly, a large slam followed by a scream was heard. A man had slammed the door open, yelling to the man that the cops were coming. He startled the man, who had accidentally dug the knife into the girl's collarbone. The girl fell, the knife still stuck in her. The man looked at her, realizing what he had done.

The intruder had already run off to tell the others of the cops. The man fell to his knees beside the girl, shocked at what he had done. The girl gasped for air and began to choke. Breathing became difficult and painful. Her eyes flickered.

The man apologized over and over again, telling her that he hadn't meant it. The girl nodded, reassuring him that she knew. He touched the knife, but decided against it since it would only cause her to bleed more. The man knew it was hopeless. She was bleeding profusely and had about a few moments left. She was going to die.

He reached into his other pocket and pulled out his small gun. Slowly, he held her hand and put the gun to his head. He told they'd go together. The girl smiled for the first time in years. With what little energy she had left, she lifted her hand up and tried to push the gun down, telling him that that won't be necessary. He shook his head and kept his hand firm on the trigger, telling her it was.

Sirens wailed in the distance. The man laid down next to her, holding her hand, gently squeezing it every few seconds. He constantly apologized, telling her how sorry he was, but the girl only smiled back. They looked at each other. They could have been happy together, if both had been in different situations.

She offered him that maybe they'd be happy together in a different life. He smiled at her and squeezed her hand again. The sirens got louder. She began to falter. He prepared himself by placing the gun back to his head. She groaned in pain. He told her that it'll be okay.

She stared into his eyes. She blinked rapidly and gasped for one more breath of air. Quietly, she thanked him for coming into her life. He couldn't take it. He nodded slowly, almost in tears. She smiled, her hand relaxed, and her face went black. A gun went off.

Police caught the criminals responsible for the previous robberies. As they searched the rest of the warehouse, one police officer came across a peculiar scene outside. A dead couple, holding hands, staring into each other's eyes.

Hope you all enjoyed it. Any comments, please share.