Page 37 of Paint the Town, Dove
I couldn’t form the words. “But I don’t play an instrument.”
“You don’t need to.”
“I don’t sing.”
He smiled. “That’s a lie.”
I pricked his skin. He let me. “I don’t sing,” I repeated.
He plucked the triangle from between my fingertips, pulling his purple eagle pick out of his pocket. Side by side, the purple and red complimented each other. Like the stem of a flower, poisoned by belladonna, and the bloody thorn that coloured the pale petals.
“What’s that in the centre?” I asked, grabbing back my gift.
I watched the stone in his throat bob. “A dove.”
Something warm pooled in my stomach, a sunrise to my heart. “A dove,” I repeated, glancing over the array of presents his thirteen-year-old self had no reason of buying.
But he bought it all for me.
Because –
Because I mattered.
“Happy twelfth, Scar.” He smiled, shy eyes shaded by the locks of his raven hair.
My pulse was quickening, faster and faster by the second and before I could think, I fell into his arms, a tear forming in the corner of my eye before melting onto his shoulder.
“You remembered my birthday,” I whispered.
His hand rested on the small of my back, the other on top of my head. “I’d never forget it.”
I squeezed that guitar pick in a vise grip, until my palm was pricked and bleeding, the memories of old birthdays fading, and the thought of life renewing.
“”Your favourite bird… is it a dove?” I asked, cheek resting on his shoulder.
I could feel his[tender]smile. “It is now.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ryden
“Smile through the pain, smile when it rains. Smile, smile, always smiling.”
Arc & Sheild Records:‘Rain and Sun’
Composition By: Ryden Spectre
“Get off me!”
I blinked through the hazy lights of camera clicks and strobe globes. So… so, so many people.
“Move!”
I heard her again, distant but close –close, yeah, I knew it. I knewher. It was Scarlett.
I saw her.
I called for her. Or –
