A wisp of smoke mingled through the air from the cigarette dangling between his lips. This man had a mysterious aura about him. His blue eyes with swirls of red, held secrets embedded into his soul. I was intrigued. One of his black curls fell into his eyes. He casually pushed it away with his large hand. His eyes bore into mine as I took in his features. Black curly hair, blue eyes, paled skin, with plump red lips. He was dressed as a writer and for now I will assume so. Something about him screamed danger and parts of myself are pushing me away, but I was hooked. I found myself slowly scooting closer. I was the moth and he was the light. I was caught in his trap.


I hesitantly blinked in fear of him disappearing. His eyes never left mine as I shifted uncomfortably underneath his gaze. I bowed my head, letting a wall of hair shield me. "Blythe." He mumbled. My head shot up, "What?" I said, my voice coming out in a small whisper. "Blythe, my name is Blythe." I looked into his eyes. The same mystery and danger still evident. A small smile tugged on my lips. "Leila. My name is Leila." His expression remained cold. So why are you here?" I asked; mentally face-palming myself for being too nosy. "Taking care of business." he roughly said with a slight edge in his voice. I must have hit a tough subject.


I looked out of the window at the rolling hills that passed by as a blur. The rain softly pattered against the window, making water droplets race to the bottom. Without my permission, my mind started to wander. My vision became blurry as tears started to build up. My past, what a dreadful thing that I have to carry for the rest of my life. I'm a runaway, taking a train to God-knows-where. Somehow, a single tear managed to escape, leaving a wet trail on my cheek. The man sitting across from me sighed "..Women.." he grumbled. As soon as one tear escaped, the rest decided to flow. I reached into my purse and pulled out a napkin. I wiped my tears. I haven't cried in years.


After a while I just let them flow, hoping the pain of my past would seep out of my body through my tears. Burying my face in my hands, my shoulders shook with each sob that was emitted. The beatings, the abuse, the judging stares, the cruel laughter that rang through my ears made me pull my hair in frustration. I shook with fear as I watched it replay, with no power to stop them. The pain worsened as I thought of my mother. I watched in horror as the memory I tried so hard to forget flash before my eyes. Those angelic eyes of hers looking up to me in pain and sadness. Her cheeks paled, as I watched the blood seep through the bullet wound on her stomach. Her hands trembled in fear as she tried to comfort me.I remember it all as if it were yesterday. Her last words etched into my mind forever "make me proud, I love you." I'm going to make her proud. that sick bastard of a father will pay for what he has done.


As the tears flow, I felt an arm wrap around my shoulders, drawing me into a broad chest. Warmth radiated off the body, causing me to snuggle deeper into the embrace. When the last tear had fallen, I wiped my eyes and looked up to the person whose arms I had been wrapped in. To my surprise, Blythe was the one whose arms I had been wrapped in for a while. He was the one that during my cried of sorrow, whispered sweet nothings into my ear. Our eyes locked and I smiled in gratitude. He smiled back, but as soon as the gesture was emitted, he masked his face with the cold expression I knew oh so well. His arms unwrapped around me and he abruptly stood up, taking his warmth with him. I whined in need, as I wanted the warmth that he had to give.


He sighed and looked down at me with one emotion, pity. I looked up to him with my tear-stained face. As soon as our eyes met, he quickly looked away and bolted out of the room. why did he run? Maybe he went to the bathroom. With that I decided to wait. I waited and waited for his return. Little did I know that was the last I saw of Blythe.