This is dedicated to ecstasybones for making me the cover of this book. Thank you!

Prologue: Beautiful

It drifted daintily in the gentle breeze. Its white flecks collided with the crimson sunset, accenting the snowy fluff that edged the stem. Purity dusted the crisp feather that spun and descended down onto a tangle of floppy jet black hair that belonged to a sharp featured, ruffled man.

The man now sported a white bird's feather on his darkened hair. His captivating eyes narrowed as I snickered, a high-pitched laugh slipping out from my scarlet, full lips, at the sight.

I locked eyes with him and deliberately slid my hand up his bare arm, against his neck brushing against his face until I reached his dark locks; I snatched the white feather between my forefinger and thumb, slowly drawing my eyes to the soft feather. And with unhurried measures, I pinched it, hard.

Absorbed in this act, I grit my fingers against it, watching each individual fragment bend abnormally and twist into miniature knots, before releasing the softness atop the sandy beach. It clung onto the sandy grains, not being able to move in its damaged form.

Nothing was exchanged during this act, except a heavy sigh. The dark-haired man flopped his head against mine, ruffling his face into my hair. He murmured into my long fluttering blonde hair, but I couldn't catch his words.

I gave a contented smile. Everything was perfect, he was perfect. He was beautiful.

We were sat down, my back pressed against a rough brick wall and I could feel each bump and bend against my unblemished skin. I bent my back away from the coarse wall, knocking the dark head against my neck in the process, and muttered coloured curses at the now-damned-wall before dumping my head into the man's lap.

As I lay, my vision focused on the colourful sunset; the sun had swopped so low that it had bled into the sea, dying it a deep rich red. A lazy smile planted on my lips, as I recalled the day.

We had had an indolent day at the beach, with pink and blue candy floss and rides on the carousel. We had looked like a married pair, sharing the pink haired horse on the carousel. I was sure that we would break it with both our fully grown weights on it, but he was adamant not to let me go on without him.

I had laughed at him when he had capsized into the cold, salty sea, whilst on a surfboard. I had still laughed when he was wrenching the briny water out his lungs; coughing and wheezing his insides out, sprawled against the warm sand. I had felt guilty at his harmed sight, so I placed a comforting hand on his back after scurrying to his lying body, his head half-buried in the sand.

When he recovered, we had eaten fish and chips on the shore, the wind whipping my heavy hair against his face, coated with sand. I had longed for more pink and blue candy floss, and had whined at him until he gave in, fishing out gold coins to pay for my want.

The sun was saying its goodbye but we wanted to drink in the scene before waving in finality. And now we watch the gradual sunset with his hands sinking into my bleached hair, playing with the strands. I snuggled closer into him, sealing my bright green eyes shut.

The waves smothering the dry shore with bubbled foam sounded in my ears, and I heard the distanced cry of birds against the soothing crash of each surge of water. A low grunt rumbled from the man, with his hands in my hair. He cleared his throat again and my eyes sparkled open and I turned to him.

He gave me a hard look into my bright eyes before drawing me up into a warm and cautious hug. Connecting our foreheads together, he spoke, "We have been together for four months."

I raised my eyebrows mockingly. "So you can count."

"Abbiona." He warned lowly.

I tilted my head to the side, laziness drooling in my eyes.

"I don't know, Abbiona." He detached his forehead from mine and swiped his hands through the air.

I placed my right hand on his opposing arm and repeated the action with my left, and softly spoke, "What do you mean?"

"I think-" Breaking off, "I think..."

I leaned in closer. "What do you think?"

"I think I will miss you."

I jerked back. "What?" I demanded, "Tonight?" I griped his arms, "You aren't staying over? That's low, even for you, babe." I leaned further back, securing my arms across my chest.

He leaned forward, looking into my eyes persistently, his bare arms lay on either side of me.

My lips were pursed; red and dangerous. My eyebrows were sharp and challenging. I willed for an explanation.

"I have to leave."

I leaped forward and abruptly gripped onto his arms. Like a vine, my short and stubby nails dug into his skin. My reflex was to grab onto him: What did he mean? My mouth unattractively open; why wasn't he staying over?

I didn't want to hear the answer but he dominated my ability to speak. With a steady and direct tone he spoke, "Paths cross, but paths can change." He looked narrowly at me, "Our paths have changed." His shoulders moved up and down heavily as I watched him eagle-eyed, "I can't believe that it happened." His eyebrows knitted together, his lips perched, his eyes crinkled in a colour of distaste, "You, don't deserve me." He gipped my hand in his and paused for one moment, before forcefully laying them on my lap.

Springing forward, I entrapped his body with my arms. He thought I would let him go?

He unraveled my clinging arms so purposefully, he seemed impatient. Impatient with me.

When he seemed certain I wasn't going to make a move, he rouse ever so slowly from his stance and stood up, towering over my petite self.

His hardened eyes glued onto mine and I inwardly flinched at the force. His normally playful teasing eyes, loopy grin and warm stance had always accompanied him and it made this look, look foreign.

But that gaze, froze me. It dampened my eyes, iced my thoughts and made my body solid. Was this really happening?

His cold eyes were crystals in the sunset.

"You will be very hard to forget, Abbiona." He continued in a slow, quiet murmur, "Too hard to forget." He stopped short.

My gaze sharpened on his hard eyes.

And in one fluid movement, "I need to leave." Showing no sign of any reluctance, he turned. His broad back greeting my shocked face; shock was being zapped through my veins.

I was still utterly iced, but I knew one thing. And it was that I couldn't bear seeing him walk away. So, I snapped my head to the side, my eyes leaving his figure. But when my eyes drew onto the sight of the marred feather, to my side, they locked onto its disfigurement. And I stared.

I heard the crunch of every footstep that the dark-haired man took away from me, and I pierced my glare more intently onto the feather.

The harsh set on my face intensified with each viscous pound of loath circling my bloodstream.

Moments passed, and once the sound of his footsteps could no longer be heard, I scurried forward towards the beautiful, white, fluffy feather, seizing the wounded fragment in my hands.

And with no hesitation, I squeezed and squeezed with both hands, squishing the purity in a detrimental clasp. Not fully satisfied, I ripped and ripped the separable pieces, shredding the softness of all its beauty.

Once content with the pain I had inflicted, I scattered the pieces in a flat pile in front of me, before resuming my stance against the wall, where he had left me, the sharp bumps digging into my long back. There, the heavy thought of realisation hit me, he has left.

He really has left me.

I slowly turned and stared at the crimson sunset, waiting for the tears to start falling.

But when they didn't, red flashed against my eyes, and I dived again at the white scattering remains of the ruined feather. My teeth barred in a snarl, I swiped the material scattering the ragged wisps across the shore.

I scrambled up into standing position, only to be dragged down again at the sight of the torn up pieces. The broken feather's remains, scattered across the sand, after all it had been through, and through the damage I had caused it, it still looked so undeniably beautiful.

And with him gone, I realised, that it was the most beautiful thing on the beach.