Dalaric "Ricky" Mikael was known for two things; being the country's best assassin and being a silent brute.
His demons enveloped him in darkness and he saw no light at the end of any tunnel.
Until a girl, who's weird and wears nothing but a pair of...
"Yes, I value emotions deeply. Call me sensitive, call me weak, call me outdated, call me anything you may, but tell me the truth, can you deny emotions give life to life.
If Emotions are an integral part of Being Human, Why do people suppress feeling them? Does the bruising scare them? Then I wonder who is weak?"
- Drishti Bablani Wordions
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A deep sigh escapes me as I get off the hospital bed after a nurse takes out the IV. I thank her, and make my way to the small washroom in the corner which also has a shower.
Not the sprinkler ones, though.
The lights turn on and I almost scream at my reflection in the compact mirror. Jeezdoodles, I look horrifying. The bandage covers a bit of my right cheek and I contemplate removing it.
Doing it anyways, I take it off and gasp again. This is going to scare all my three friends away. The wound isn't that long but it's deep enough to leave a scar.
Great, more scars to get rid of.
It stretches from the corner of my eye to my ear. It was the kitchen counter- what she threw me on. I shake away any thoughts before posing in the mirror to see if I can pull off a scar. It kind of looks like a sad panda if you really look at it. Why are kitchen counters so sharp?
My eyes flicker to the small clock outside the washroom. Two in the morning. I couldn't sleep. Not without a certain pair of arms. Not without Mr. Jones, Senior and Junior. But mainly the pair of arms.
"Mayella?"
I peek out the door of the room, noticing a comfortable Fatima who's reading a book. She scans me worriedly and I smile, telling her that I'm as alright as I can be.
As alright as I can be without my babycakes.
Her eyes move to a part of my face and I tilt my face, why is she staring? Oh. Right. The sad panda.
I shake my head, telling her to ignore it before taking a seat opposite her. She lent me one of her hoodies so I'm currently dressed in a plain black hoodie. Without a certain person's name on the back.
Sigh. I need to stop.
"Did, um. Did he leave?" I know he did.
Well, he probably did.
Why wouldn't he? There's no reason to stay. I need to get Mr. Jones back-
"Did you hit your head too? Of course, he didn't leave, you idiot. That man has been sitting on an extremely uncomfortable hospital waiting room chair for five hours straight. He won't speak to me, he won't speak to the doctors, he won't even eat! He also won't get me anything to eat- can you believe that? Rude, right-"
