Pure Ones || H.S

PROLOGUE

The Sun's ray shined through the window, causing colorful light falling over him. It felt a little warm, since he only felt cold lately after the 'incident'. He was on his knees, eyes blotching with tears as he begged in front of the statue of which he thought he believed was God. He didn't know who to come up to so he felt a little guilty doing it—begging in front of his so called 'maker' when he didn't believe in such thing.

"Please," He begged.

He was alone in the tiny room. He didn't know how to put it in words and he just needed someone to talk to. His skin was paler from staying inside so often and his lack of health. The muscle on his cheek was strained yet numb from his constant cries and his habit on clenching his teeth. Again, he felt so guilty begging to a God with no shame on his face — he felt like he was mocking their God.

It was the third time in a row, that he first went there. He sobbed more, his cries loud. His shirt was stained with tears. His hair was greasy and his chin and jaw a little stubby. He didn't have time to take care of himself because he was too lost.

"Please, please, please," he begged, again and again. Repeating it like chants and he hated it. "Show me," Harry begged. "Anything. Give me something for me to move on," he—again—felt so guilty to rely something he didn't believe in.

Minutes passed like seasons; snows of winter melting for the flowers to breath in springs. He waited, along with the sound of the winds hitting the trees outside, the continuous drops of water from the background, the colorful light from the big church window changing it's position that it fell on his sorrowful body—he waited.

His sobs were heard very loudly that he can't even concentrate on anything around him. The pitter-patter of the birds outside was the sound that kept him alarmed. That is when he had the sign.

"Excuse me," a girl peaking behind the open door, looking shyly at him. "Would you want to see Father Thomas?" she said in a tiny voice.

Harry stood up slowly.

'I must have been looking like a freak,' he thought to himself, every thoughts vanished like a piece of dust being blown away.

"No need, I'm fine," Harry answered casually. He was afraid to scare the little girl away, and that was the last thing he ever wanted. Slowly, he stood up from his kneeling position, above the ground as his shadow hovered the church with his huge height.

"Father Thomas told me to tell you," she looked down. Harry knew from the way she spoke so sweet and slowly, she grew up around religious figures. A young innocent girl who possibly didn't know the cruelty of the outside world and that made Harry envious.

He nodded slowly. Before he could leave, the girl ran to him carefully. Harry could see she was obviously what he thought. Her school girl blouse and her knee length skirt screamed purity. She even wore white stoking and somehow a weird imagination popped in his head but he brushed it away.

"Here," she took his hand and had his hand folded to securely making him keep a handkerchief she was giving.

Harry eyed her up and down, while she smiled sincerely. She was so innocent, even with her dark eyes, she looked so bright as if she had pure light inside her.

He didn't bother to say 'thank you' but instead, his figure approached closer to her, he asked: "What's your name?"

Her cheeks were rosy and he didn't know if she was just embarrassed or it was simply her cheeks. Her hair looked cleanly brushed, her skin was fair and smooth. Her eyes were still wandering and he knew he was staring at her intensively which bothered her.

A wind blew, suddenly making them both felt the chilliness of the air as the door of the church slammed open behind them by the wind outside. The wind stirred her hair away and Harry could smell her sweet fragrance, it was sweet and of the smell of fresh flowers. The smell lingered and he liked it— he liked it too much.

She ran to close the door and that had made Harry impossible to smell the sweet vanilla. He wanted more.

The way her chest rose, making her young-developing breast bigger by time, Harry felt something bugging him in his mind.

Harry knew what it was.

He just hoped he didn't ask such question to the poor little girl. He would probably be an old man in his mid-thirties in her eyes. He just hoped she would forget the last question he asked because he knew what he would do.

"I'm Belle," Bad idea.