Not your fate, not yours.
"Had a fight?" Alina's chocked out, his confession for an other girl, had strangled her throat.
"Never got a chance." He still was looking in the space, watching the grey of smoke raising up, and ash flakes dangling down.
"Is she with you?" She never longed for pure body, but for a virgin heart, at least she wished his husband doesn't share his heart.
"Always have been" Air carried a strange silent, perhaps mourning hearts are always silent.
"Here" he raised index finger of left hand, dragged it to his chest, a bit on the left he pointed "She lives here" his heart. Alina's ribs pulled inside, piercing her heart, defending the small bundle muscles but it was already too late.
"Who is she to you?" If words bleed, then her bleeded with every inhale.
Not yours, it's a mistake. She didn't know why her conscience was protecting her, when there was nothing left. Why guard a ripped piece of cloth.
"Everything." she blinked, warm liquid descended down the sloop of her cheekbone. She breathed in silence,
She couldn't see Damien, a kafir, but an unknown man destinated to be her husband. Her other half.
"Who am I to you?" For a fraction of time, he stiffed like a hardboard, without motion, eyes still, white stick fell with a thud, as it lost it's balance on his finger, shards of black paper splattered on the floor.
His wife
"Nothing." She pursed her lips, not allowing her tongue to taste the bitter warm liquid.
°•°•°•°•°•
Thin layer of dust on the floor showed the dislike of humans in this place - Jackson Hall - wasn't difficult place, for Alina to find, it gave away with few tangled gossips nattered by Caroline.
At the brim of the named Hall, stood a silhouette of a girl, for Alina rather a promise to the unnamed note.
The wind goes by that decades ago, A boy named Jackson loved a girl with his soul, the attachment proved lethal for his life and he ended up dead with a knife in his stomach in this hall. They say that love killed him.
Love always hunts.
Alina approached the figure outlined by dim tube lights, no one dared to repair the dead tubes.
Black coating her lips, eyeliner shielded her eyes in a dark arch, hairs shaved on a side and falling on the other shoulder, tattoos snaked up her sleeveless arms, velvety chocker stood in contrast to her moonpale skin, dressed in the colour of night.
Different
She was different from the people she saw daily.
"Judging me, aren't you?" Her voice thick as honey suited her appearance, but what didn't suit was her...
"Actually, your writing doesn't fit you much, I was accepting..." Alina immediately on the emerging frown on her face, showed her the yellow paper with odd writing on it.
Her grey eyes eagerly inhaled the words, lips tracing her eye movement. In the snow of her eyes confusion melted into anger.
"Mason!"
On her call, a fat boy in shorts and
t-shirt rushed from a corner, Alina knew she wasn't alone, there were many footprint laid by the dust.
"Who said you to change the notes?" Her voice raising slightly above the horizon of calmness.
YOU ARE READING
Wanted to be loved (Islamic Story)
Spiritual"You will do it. You have to teach me. I will make you do it." He took a step toward me. I didn't stepped back, expressing that I was not afraid, ready for anything. "I will inform the Principal that you have caused another plight. And he will blind...
32: Colour of death
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