Moth to a Flame

Chapter 1: Ocean Eyes

     It was as if luck left Tamara's side the moment her sleep got cut off by a spam call in the middle of the night, asking for her ATM pin number after informing her that her sister has a debt of an unbelievable amount. Although she answered the caller with a calm voice, the colorful, inappropriate words didn't escape the ear of the receiver, and she made sure of that. Emphasizing each curse word for word. Tamara didn't have a sister to begin with.

     Unfortunately, once her sleep is interrupted, it will be difficult for her to fall back into her bed of slumber again. Additional to that, her stomach loudly grumbled, and she forgot to stock her fridge up after work, leading her to her present situation; wondering around the cold and eerie street of Broston.

     The bulky and stuffed jacket hugging her upper body didn't help Tamara hide from the excruciating bites of the freezing 2 A.M. breeze, while her messy, two-toned hair danced wildly along with the harsh wind. The light tap of raindrops on her face made her want to just stay in that empty street with the street lamps on each side of the road as her guide, if only the infuriating cold air was not harsher than she thought.

     Tamara's shoulder tensed and pushed upwards as another gust of November air passed by, biting her uncovered face a hundred times. Her tensed body was quivering as her shoes slightly left a squeaking sound with each kiss of their sole on the stone pathway. Her numbing lips hid behind the collar of her blue jacket as her eyes trained straight as she alerted herself for the possible danger she might encounter. And to hell with the cold temperature, she thought. Cold is her total nemesis, like the dogs she hated in her pre-school days.

     Another wave of the wind didn't block her ears as it brushed her hair, bringing cries of pain, metal hitting another hard object, grunts and growls, and loud screams as if attacking something—someone. It was uncalled for. She hadn't woken up by midnight and walked around Broston at dawn to witness such killings. The noises she heard inside the dark alleyway just 6 blocks away from her apartment shall be ignored; she knew well to put no heed in such commotion, for danger might follow her if she did something stupid—to either help or intercept.

     What the hell am I even doing? She questioned herself. Her trembling hand held the small gadget in her palm, gripping it tightly as her uneasy eyes flickered from her phone to the noise that she couldn't even comprehend what was happening inside it. She silently hid herself just right in the corner of the alley, her back kissing the wall as her chest heaved every time the air came in and out of her lungs in such a rapid manner. Her clammy pads of thumbs searched—tapping recklessly on the lowly brightened screen of her device. This is not a good idea, she thinks. Her breathing became ragged as each puff of air out of her parted lips created a small, short fog, which then dissipated into thin air as the wind blew it away.

     A loud siren can be heard around the area, breaking the silence of the dawn and hushed the noise inside the alleyway. Tamara heard the footfalls disappear, and the clanking of metals, along with the dropping objects, stopped.

     Once the enemies were out of sight, a man grunted as he dropped, his knees hitting the floor. But his senses heightened, and his body tensed the moment he heard the rushing footsteps inching with each helpless breath he took.

     “Hey! Are you alright?” A worried voice of a woman made him look up and humorlessly chuckled as his eyes darted on the lit device in her grasp, the police mobile siren ringing on repeat. “That's a stupid question,” she mumbled, crouching down on his level. And what a stupid idea you had, he thought.

     His deep oceanic eyes stared directly at the chocolate-colored pair of orbs once the lamppost decided to share its light after the flickering stopped. Her nose crinkled each time her eyes passed a fresh cut on his body, and the bruises were covered in blood, as if she could feel the pain in his battered physique. All the mess around him made her brows furrow deeply.