This boy. This beautiful boy.

Through tears I look at his face, hair black as coal, and eyes like oncoming thunder.

Then I look down at the knife he plunged into my side.

It hurts.

The difficult part is separating physical from emotional.

"I asked you to come with me, and now look." His words sting because they are true. Think about the cost. It reverberates in my mind. I take a deep breath, and it feels as though the tear in my flesh rips itself even further.

"You want to kill people." I force myself to look away from him. I should be filled with disgust, hatred, and loathing. The only thing looking does is make me long. Make me hurt.

"So do the people they want dead." He leans in closer, and speaks in a rough whisper.

"You have to decide who's right."

The ship's metal body creaks, reminding me I can't get away from him. The port hole. I'm small enough. Then what? Swim? How far are we from land?

"Enough for now." The man who steps in is shorter than someone in charge typically is, but his lighting rod voice makes up for the few feet of height he is missing.

Thanks for reading guys! Should I continue this? And as always, any comments and opinions are appreciated greatly!