Hunt

Eleven.

Eleven.

Boys p.o.v is still weird. Even when these lovey dovey scenes come up lol. Yuck...

Song for this is by Mayday Parade. It's called Even Robots Need Blankets

The weak never make it. That's a fact I grew up not only reciting out loud, but in my sleep as well. I ate, slept, and breathed those very words. Living with Martin was no easy task. And I soon found out that I could not afford to be weak. I couldn't cry because in Martin's eyes the thought itself was weak and deemed punishable.

Even a small pout would send my dad into a rage. It took me a couple of years to stop crying. There was a time before that- a time when every punch, kick, slap that echoed through the dark halls; staining the polished floors with my scarlet posion would force tears to brim and loud outbursts of pain to attack my ears. But now, pain isn't the problem anymore. Pain pushes you. It motivates you. There's a sick pleasure that comes with pain. A pleasure I crave. Because when you're the one causing it you're the one in control.

I needed that control.

What Martin and Elaine taught me is that we cause our own suffering and create our own happiness by seeking it. I soon realized that if I wanted my suffering to stop then I had to stop it myself. And to do that I needed Ava's help.

If only she knew how much she matters to me.

With soft, steady breathing, I carefully move my fingertips across her gentle cheek. From there, I move my fingers to her balmy lips. My eyes linger on her plump botton lip, yearning for the taste of her tongue.

It's been about thirty minutes since I snuck into her dorm room. The cold December air chilled my bones and screamed at me to stop and turn back. But I couldn't do that. I didn't want to do that. This was my chance to watch her sleep. My chance to comfort my pure, white rose while she slept.

Emmy has been telling me things about her. Like when she falls asleep, how long she sleep, and what she talks about in her sleep. I never knew I could desire someone so perfect. Every single one of her imperfections is still perfection to me. 

I've never found myself thinking about someone more than I think about myself. I never thought my eyes would glue on to someone so quickly. And I never thought her heavenly sight would cause my heart would skip.

Ava Campbell belongs to me and no one is taking her away from me. 

My eyes trace over her slumbering body cautiously. The moonlight from her window reflects on her skin like glitter. Her shiny hair shines while her full chest heaves evenly.

There's peace in her. Peace I long for. Peace she can give me.

In the night, her room is quiet and dark. But from all the darkness in this room, I see a magnetic shield of light around her. She is more than just purity and beauty. She's an angel from the heavens above.

She sighs heavily, managing to fan my face with the scent of cherries. As I lean towards her forehead to kiss it, I realize it's the scent of her hair. I'm so wrapped in the intoxicating presence of my love that it takes a few moments for me to realize her eyes are wide open.

“Ian?” A startled breath from her sends my hand to her perfect lips before she can scream.

“It's not what it looks like, okay?”

I wait for her to scream and thrash; maybe even punch me. But she doesn't. She just nods in understanding.

“You...you're not afraid of me?” I ease my hand off her mouth, hoping she doesn't freak out.