Julian
Beauty beholds in the eyes, as the referred quote, I could sense it sinking into the skin of Lorde as I kept looking at the girl in front of me. A filthy little girl is full of wrath and rage, grief and agony prickling against her skin like a second skin. The girl looking at me as if I ruined her, destroyed the dreams of her feral heart with a sweet innocent boy who she fell in love with. Her entire self looked destroyed and shattered and there were holes everywhere in her body, trying to empty her entire heart's capacity for living. Trying to make places for breathing. She went crazy and in a frenzy. Her wrath and rage burst into a stupor as she kept shaking her entire body as if processed. Her facial expressions were somewhere between tarnished and scattered. Her face looked as if searching for a ground to stand on, her face looked as if she was slipping with the sand, as if looking for a stable pole to hold onto. The urge to just do something is prickling against my skin as she fights with my men, relentless and wild. I felt my entire self restrain burning and turning my inner gut to bits. She looked as if losing her entire self-consciousness and conscience to differ anything. She bit my men's forearms, wrists kicked them, jerked backward and frontwards, she trembled her own body purposely as if a psycho animal of a dark jungle, she was looking like a menace as if the hell had been given to her in this living world without her doing anything to get it. She fought as if she wanted to plead as if she wanted to live. To find a purpose after losing it in the first place. But she looked....
She looked different. I have never seen someone's face decked up with an enormous amount of pain as if breaking into pieces but trying to glue the pieces to attach forcefully. I lifted my hand and those men of Lorde stopped fighting against her. They threw her on the basement floor, and with a thud her exhausted body lay on the floor as if grief consumed her breaths and finally gave her peace by letting her die.
After last night, I couldn't sleep. Those hopeful eyes were looking at me while finding the man I could never be. An ugly feeling crawled its way. I couldn't look at her last night after she called me by his name. I went towards her as if my feet automatically took me to her. I saw her body drenched in sweat and dirt. My eyes wandered around as I saw Namjoon standing at the farthest corner of the basement door as if peeking, but his eyes were sympathetic and observant. I looked back at her in silence. Her face was covered in dirt and a smudge of blood was smeared against her cheek. I wiped the blood droplet with my palm as I kept caressing the skin until the skin was free of the smudge. But the scar, a long cut mark was present there on her cheek, the scar darkened and deepened the more I touched it. And the blood started again, the blood flowed no matter how much I wiped it. No matter how much I try to remove the wound, the scar remains, and the blood flows and flows. She was unconscious. I lay her in my lap. I found a wet cloth in front of my eyes in the palm of a man. I looked upwards and saw Namjoon holding the cloth as I took it from him directly. His eyes were serious and deepened as if thinking about something. I never tried to initiate a word. I kept wiping the blood droplets with the cloth and after a while, the blood stopped flowing. The scar was still there. But there wasn't any blood. Her eyes fluttered open in tiredness. Her dead eyes looked at me as if seeing someone strange, unfamiliar, and unknown. Not as evil anymore. It somehow relieved me. But then it was back, the rage, the wrath, the restlessness. She tried to get away from me. And I let her. I always do. She couldn't move afar because of the shackles. I knelt and crawled towards her and she gawked at me as if I was someone who might kill her in an instant. She is indeed true. She looked at me as if I was some creature, not a human, never a human. This is who I am, a cruel monster. I held her wrist and she jerked away as if my touch would burn her wholly. She flinched the second time and it suddenly hit in the guts as I felt a wrenched feeling stored inside. Her eyes slightly turned droopy, and she slumped down again, lying on the floor with a thud. I felt my heart clenching in an unruly way. It shouldn't have happened. What?
I slowly went closer to her as I untied those shackles. Carried her along the way as Namjoon was left staring at our figures in silence.
I kept staring at the face, rough and scarred. Calloused and cold. Barely with the essence of the delicate feLordinity. There is barely any elegance in her face. But my heart tugged when her little thin finger clutched my shirt collar and I sucked a deep breath. Her grip tightened as if finding a surface to remain still, to hold onto. Dark circles under her eyes as if deepened bags. She looked pale and dead.
I laid her on my bed as the four nurses stood outside waiting for my orders. Must have been Namjoon who informed them. I tried to pull out but her arms unconsciously gripped around my neck and pulled me closer to her while burying her face in the crook of my neck. My heart tugged so furiously, that the organ must have fallen from my body.
"Stay," she mumbled. Not in her subconscious Lord. I nodded and I wrapped my arms around her waist pulling her closer to me. I felt myself frowning as if thinking what the fuck was wrong with me. But automatically I closed my eyes and I smelled her, dirt and blood. Sweat and tears. Might be the most intriguing scent I have ever come across. I patted her back unknowingly. My brain fuzzed as if short-circuited. This feeling is peculiar, a lot of burning and itching. I don't want to feel this kind of feeling. I tried to push her but then my breath stuck as she said
"Tae" she whined, her grip tightened. Suddenly my chest felt irritated. I pushed her harshly as she fluttered her eyes open in shock. Her eyes turned from neutral to dark and then darker. She looked like a menace, a bloodthirsty psycho. I looked at her bored. Her eyes wandered from here and there throughout the entire room. Her eyes turned neutral again and then numb. Almost losing the ability to think. I have never killed a girl who is breathing. This is so new. As if I killed her soul long ago, her body is breathing for the sake of it. I looked at those eyes and tried to maintain the dense eye contact but couldn't. She was different. Different from any of my encounters. I pointed to the nurses to come inside as they surrounded her. She flinched looking at the four, she was scared of them but not me. I frowned. She turned backward, she tried to get up but my nurses were combat warriors, trained guards. They tackled her weak body as she tried to jerk apart from them.
"Kill me"
Just as I was about to turn, I heard her scream, deafening.
I turned and looked at her
"KILL ME"
In particular, I wanted to do just that. Kill her. It won't be big of a deal, shoot her in the forehead and it would be the end of this agitation inside my chest whenever I look at her. I pulled my gun. M134 gun.
Designed for various applications, including aircraft and vehicle-mounted systems, the M134 can unleash an astonishing 6,000 rounds per minute. I went closer to her as she screamed with her entire self, her core torn apart by her screaming I think so.
"JUST KILL ME"
I pressed her chin with two of my fingers as I tightened the hold on her forehead. Ready to shoot. The agitation inside my chest grew more as I looked at her. Her eyes are bloodshot red and deteriorated to death. She was breathing in anticipation of death. But I won't give her the satisfaction of death, not yet. I wish to make her suffer in life the more she breathes. She never cried in front of me this week. I saw a tear droplet falling from the corner of her eye. I felt someone had shot me in the ribs. I felt my skin ripped apart seeing that one liquid substance. The nurses were ready to tackle her back as she came in front of me. But she isn't scared of me. A tigress. My tigress. Stubborn and fearless. Broken and dead. A carbon copy of me. I was seeing myself. I shivered a little. She was so close. I tried to search for something. Anything? There was nothing on her face.
I turned and left thinking about her ragged breaths and those lips.
After a few hours, Jamy entered my other room. This room was my office room, a personalized study area to study primordial cases. The limit of irony is dripping and has me gagging. This was my fully mahogany furnished interior lavish office where I planned on how to kill and earn, this has always been my rule first and foremost. I was pouring whiskey on a glass and from the corner of my eye I noticed Jamy entered. I pulled out another glass from the cabinet under my desk. He sat in the melancholy my gray office offers. The curtains are gray as well, the floor is marbled white. It looks like a prison cell, with additional facilities.
"What are you about to do with her?"
I remained silent because, for the first time in my life, I couldn't decide.
"Kill her in some days after I am finished reading her diary" I never realized I tried to convince not only him but me too.
"Jaebum is back" the grip combusted as I shattered the glass of whiskey. Blood started oozing out from the scratch it left on my palm and also the whiskey made it burn like hell. I never hissed. I looked at the wound of my palm boringly. Jamy sighed and stood up, came closer, and knelt in front of my desk, he took out a first aid box from under my desk drawer and started applying antiseptic, it burnt my skin more. But I couldn't react to it, maybe it's tattooed in my brain like a default to not react. Maybe the habit I have been trying to muster finally. I can't feel the physical pain, wounds never reflect on my brain. I looked at my bloody hand filled with whiskey droplets. I turned my brain to numb scum. Jamy kept sympathetically looking at me. The gun lying on the desk, and the mundanity of it all made my heartbeat relax, and the rush earlier I was feeling subsided. I was habituated to melancholy and silence, not fierce eyes and screams asking to kill her.
"Jaebum wants to meet" Jamy continued.
"Jaebum came to Seoul yesterday night. He is going crazy trying to find his sister. His men are howling like wolves surrounding our territory. One wrong step and we will be beheaded Julian, you haven't not only killed Jaebum's sister's lover but also kidnapped his sister. His only sister. Jaebum has ruled Italy all alone for years. Jaebum's not happy to hear his only sister got kidnapped by his rival that too from Seoul. We have been trying to control the extravagance of it, the intensity of it for the time being but for how long? Jaebum's entire crew is here in Seoul, capturing every drug den and casino of ours. They are destroying our supplies and productions, and our business deals are getting corrupted as people are scared of Jaebum more than you."
Jamy kept saying as I tried to hold onto the boredness of the situation, of the environment, I have always hated screams and rush and adrenaline. I tried to hold onto the monotone but couldn't. I heard the wall clock ticking telling me it was time.
"Get the cars and some truce. I will be heading for the beach house club tonight. Prepare the jet right now"
Jamy got up abruptly in between his rantings of how dangerous a man Jaebum is and how I got myself into ruination. I thrive in destruction."
"Julian, our sources have reported, that Jaebum is gonna be there tonight to personally destroy our shipments and clients' trust. We cannot risk a truce. We need soldiers."
I turned back as Jamy finished bandaging. I gave him a look and it was enough for him to be quiet. I hate talking unnecessarily.
Park Jaebum, his only weakness was his sister and I never knew I would be less triumphant by kidnapping her. I am never ashamed of getting heaven in hell. Because Hell won't be there if Heaven isn't.
"Call Meera"
Jamy's eyes widened as if his brain crushed under the weight of the name. Meera, I haven't heard of her enough outside my bedroom. But other than being my bed warmer, Meera is one of the best combat-trained soldiers of Lorde, wicked and hypnotizingly beautiful. Men let loose seeing me. Meera is the fastest runner in my camp. Meera shoots more precisely than Travis. Meera hides well, she is quicker than most of the rats I have infested in other gangs. Meera surpasses male soldiers as if nothing but peasants. Other than satisfying my body, she satisfies my business more than anyone can ever do. After Jamy, Meera was the only one who could rescue my dens. They both are my hidden gems and extraordinary in their features. Men lose their consciousness and thinking capabilities seeing these two soldiers.
"It's been a week since Meera has entered your bedroom Hades. Now Heaven is there. Nobody ever crossed your bedroom's threshold other than Meera. Meera was the only one"
I felt a sudden irritation building inside me.
"That's none of your business"
"That's Meera's business for sure Hades."
Only Jamy can question me like this and get away with it.
I turned fully and stopped looking at his curious eyes. I can't deal with his curiosities now.
"Meera has never crossed Jamy's boundaries, Jamy. You shouldn't either. I pay you both for very different reasons "I could see his brightened eyes dimmed. I pierced his gut. But he quickly resolved into a calm posture as if my words didn't rip his self-respect anyway. I am a monster.
Right when I was about to get out of the room. I heard
"Meera has a ring on her finger of your name Hades"
I gulped and I got out of the room.
Park Jamy, an assassin, my personalized assassin. I trained myself to fight in combat shooting, to fight in a physical muscle fight, to run, to high jump, to crawl to mountain-like buildings, to break. I made Jamy a second version of my combat training officers, but with more preciseness, he is the sharpest, quickest. He surpasses me sometimes in running, and in muscle fights because he caught on to techniques more carefully than I. Jamy is like a perfectionist when it comes to shooting. He shoots within milliseconds, his reflexes are quicker than mine. His brain works like a machine, always in protective mode. He even had bullets for me through his chest as well. And tonight I said I paid him for sacrificing his own life for me. I felt my chest felt funny and lanky. Maybe the grief doesn't understand how to fill the holes in my body. Jamy was my father's best friend's only son. We used to play with fake guns and from playing with fake guns to forcing him to hold a real gun to survive the world. Maybe I am the killer of many breathing bodies. And the second breathing body whom I killed came in front of me, with blue sapphire eyes and red glossy lips. Meera Nyar.
The daughter of the royal guard of my father. Meera's eyes have always captured me and twisted my guts in unraveling ways. Meera hypnotizes me. Meera has always been the girl whom I have been attracted to. When I became the mafia, I forced her to train under my trainers, under my personalized teams. I wanted Meera to be around me, within my boundaries, within my surroundings and she voluntarily did. She stayed after her father was killed. I never knew if she was voluntarily learning combat war training for vengeance or something else. But then one night she came to my bedroom, the only one who dared. I was shocked to see her challenging eyes. She took the risk to visit my bedroom, the forbidden territory for even Jamy. I pulled her closer to me and she smiled in a way I was entranced.
She came in front of me, as our lips locked. I closed my eyes and sighed. Being with Meera gives me familiarity and stability. She keeps me at bay, my body reacts to her touches in a different easy way. Meera came to me most easily. And I grasped it. Her platinum ring shined brighter in the dimly lit lounge in my mansion. I gave her the ring. Weddings don't happen in my territory but the ring is the ultimate commitment and I did it the second night I had Meera in my arms. She was warm and lazy pressed against my body and I slided the ring. The way her eyes lit up, it was worth it. And then she warmed my physical desires again, she was great at it like any other activity she does. I kissed her deep and senseless. I could feel her smirk widening against my lips and I drank in filthy satisfaction. I was always a sucker for Meera.
"I need the club. Get it done" she nodded against my lips. Her breaths are heavy and sensual. Her eyes looked at Lorde as if fondness dripped from it. But Meera is different. Her expressions and affections are different to gather. She looks at me as if some undefined feeling is burning inside her, she looks at me as if I am her person, whom she wants to say a lot of things. Sometimes in her eyes, I see want, not necessarily sexual favors, I see the want of something I am not capable of giving her, I can't give delicate gestures, can't look at her softly. Can't hold her hand, can't kiss her forehead, can't embrace her with all my might. Because I am not that kind of person, I am by default a damaged systemic person. Sometimes I see her eyes welling up with longing, her heart aches through her eyes, and she burns in guilt and something else. She destroyed herself in me and her heart is breaking. I am breaking her heart. Her eyes are deep, and thoughtful, looks at me worryingly. But she would do anything in a heartbeat for me. And I selfishly make her risk her life in every impossible mission I encounter. Meera hugged me but my arms never caged hers. I couldn't process these types of gestures.
"On it Hades" Her fingers caressed my cheeks as she cupped my face
"Smile sometimes Hades. Haven't seen you smile in ages'' in all honestly she hasn't seen me smile ever. Maybe in her imagination, I smiled so beautifully that she was forced to grab it. She is attached to a monster and gets killed every day for the monster, by the monster.
"Tonight" she whispered against my neck as I shivered. I nodded. I kissed her lips again. She left without noticing in our bedroom there was another girl. Screaming like a maniac because I killed her lover. Where do I keep all these regrets of ruining so many lives? Where do I keep it?
I went to my bedroom next as Jamy informed me the jet was ready. It's 5 in the morning. I haven't heard any chaos from my room since I heard my nurses had given her sedatives. Strong ones. She was lying on my bed, unconscious. I went near her as if there was something undeniable. Her face was washed, the dirt on her arms was wiped clean, and she looked fresh but like a corpse right before burial. The scars still littered against her skin. The scars would never leave her body. She is scared. Meera is spotless and flawless. Heaven is the face of a flaw. But within 15 minutes I kept staring at her, as if my feet wouldn't take me anywhere. She slept like a child, curled, and feared a nightmare. Meera sleeps like a queen. She sleeps like a slave. Meera is the face of perfection, Heaven is clumsy, broken, and untrained. Pale and grieved. Meera is savage. Why am I comparing? I looked at her fingers, scarred, little cuts here and there. Meera's spotless ring finger has a ring of my name. Why am I looking at Heaven's scars more than that?