sylockz
|• you are my world •|

Winter 2020,
London, England
—•—

Her dark, green gaze never wavered of track. Back straight, chin up, she walked past the shadowless strangers, her eyes never leaving the streets, the forward direction.

It never stops. Pitter pattering in the rain; our footsteps never cease. It never stops.

She curved of at the corner, the sudden movement seemed rehearsed, like she had been walking in circles, in the same directions, ever since she could remember.

Cries will always be silent, some heard to sooth the embodiment of man, but most are silenced.

A passerby brushed past her shoulder, the contact seemed to have seared a nonexistent scar on her shoulder. Her shoulders tensed, but her feet obeyed one command: walk.

Scars never go, their shadows don't need light to linger and lurk under our skin. 

The dark thoughts that slithered around her precarious soul, eroded away the last of her truthful self, the vulnerable self.

Decaying of the soul, the stench the dead, alive and alone leave behind. It never stops, around we move again. Nurturing the soil.

A light drizzled invaded the evening air, leaving behind a soft breeze that wrapped around her skin, erecting hairs on her arms, even though they remained covered in a black woolly coat.

Scorched or frozen, they both remain extreme, like my dead soul walks, upon the earth, the dead sleep under.

Pulling her hood over her ebony hair, she curled her fingers in the cold freezing air. She hated wet hair, how it stuck to one's skin, all slimy and cold. Lightly pinching the bridge of her nose, to prevent her from sneezing, she again turned into another corner, disappearing into the mist.

Leave the world behind. I'll come to you when the time is right. Don't hold on, my love, let go. I'll come back.

A rough hand veered her left. She gasped lightly under the touch, but she wasn't afraid.

I lost fear when I lost you, brother.

"You came." His intoxicated breath fanned at her nostrils. It gave her a strong urge to throw up, the nausea making her feel light headed.

She sucked in a deep breath. "Yes." She breathed laboriously. "Long time, Hargreaves."

"Same here... same here little quiche." He bit his lip as her gaze burrowed into his broken soul. "So where's your brother? He owes me, you know."

"Dead." Tensing her body, she forced herself not to tear up.

I won't be weak, not under your reign.

"He's dead." Her jaw clenched as she pulled out a bundle of cash. "I know he owed you, he wrote it at the back of his notebook." She pulled his hand towards her and slammed the money on his hands. "There's some extra here too."

"Woah, woah, little girl is rich I see." He enjoyed mocking her, the delight it caused, was simply remarkable. "How old are you again? Sixteen?"

"It's my birthday today, I'm eighteen." He guffawed at her response. Her short stature made her words less credible. "I'm not joking."

"Great then. In respect of your brother's death and the fact that you returned my money to me, I'll let you leave, without making you give me something more." He smirked, a deadly glint in his eyes; she squirmed under his gaze. He turned around, trudging away towards Turner Street.

"B-but I need s-something from you." He paused at her stammering words. Inquisitively, he crept back towards her, a creepy smirk plastered across his pasty white skin. As he came close enough for her to smell his sweat and cheap cologne she began to speak again. "Do you... remember the deal to proposed to my brother, Jacomo, late summer, twenty eighteen?"

His grin transformed into a sneer. "Is this why your here? You need this money don't you?"

"No..." She faltered.

"I don't need your pennies, take them back. Don't beg." Hargreaves scoffed coldly. "You should've not come to me if you were planning to take it back anyways."

She frantically shook her head. "No, I have money, I have a job, and a medical scholarship at Imperial College, I leave tomorrow..."

"But I thought you wanted to study to be an astronaut or something." She was surprised that he remembered. Hargreaves and Jacomo where once friends. She remembers many things she had shared with Hargreaves, he was like an older brother.

"Then why do you ask about the deal?" He scrutinised her face, searching for any hint of a lie, but she seemed as honest as she could be, maybe even nervous.

"I... I..." she doubted that he'd understand her, but it was worth a try. "I... need the substance, I don't need the money."

He displayed a quizzical look to her, like he had stated something sour. "And why would you need that?"

She closed her eyes and let go of a staggering breath. "It was his last wish." A lonely tear lingered on her skin before falling onto the dusty, cracked street. "He wanted to do it."

"So why did he refuse me?" Laughed bitterly. "Why tell me to f off of if he wanted to do this anyways?"

A torrent of wind blew her slightly of balance. "He was worried about getting into trouble and leaving me on my own, but he did want to do it."

Hargreaves shook his head with disbelief before turning around again, he was ready to go back to the darkness he lived in.

"Trust me, for once." Her words echoed on the dingy alleyway. He halted for a second before he replied.

"Tomorrow, sharp six, Chigwell station."

Her heart leapt in triumph, a smile slipped onto her lips. "Thank you." She whispered to the retreating figure of Hargreaves. "Jacomo would thank you too."

Nothing can take you away from me, Jacomo. Nothing.

—•—

The prologue is up and I'm excited!
My usual style, the She always remains anonymous ;)

Hope you enjoyed it.

Thoughts?