Chapter 2: When Destruction Answered
620 Words
In the heart city of Sweavile, peace was expensive and silence was rare.
Cars honked. People moved fast. And hearts broke quietly in the background.
But inside one dim apartment, Jess sat hunched over in an oversized T-shirt, her fingers wrapped around the neck of a bottle she didn’t even like.
The kind of drink you take when your tears taste worse.
“Wow... five years. Just like that?”
Her voice was barely a whisper, but the pain in it was loud.
“I gave you everything,” she said. “And you gave her my place.”
She laughed, sharp and bitter.
“You could’ve at least cheated with someone I hated.”
The room offered no comfort. No answer. Just the sound of the rain outside, mocking her grief.
She closed her eyes, but the memory forced itself forward like a ghost refusing to be forgotten.
She had wanted to surprise him.
It was his birthday.
She held a smile, a small gift, and the kind of card you only give someone you’re ready to marry.
The key was still hers.
So she let herself in quietly, imagining the look on his face when he saw her.
But the apartment felt… wrong.
Still.
Too still.
Then she saw it, a bra. On the couch.
Not hers.
Her body moved before her mind did.
Each step toward the bedroom felt like walking deeper into her own burial.
And there they were.
Her fiancé.
Her best friend.
Twisted in each other’s arms.
Bare.
Breathless.
Smiling.
She didn’t scream.
She didn’t make a sound.
She just stood there…
And left.
Now, seated alone in the echo of that moment, her voice cracked as she stood up.
“I wish this world would be destroyed,” she whispered.
Her voice grew louder, angrier and hoarse with ache.
“Let destruction fall.”
“I want everything to disappear!”
The room stood still, like even the air didn’t know how to respond.
Then… nothing.
She dropped the bottle.
The glass thudded on the carpet.
She stumbled back inside and collapsed onto the couch.
Her final words before blacking out were soft.
“Just one night of peace… That’s all I ask.”
--
Morning came like a hangover to the world.
Muffled voices murmured outside her window.
The smell of dust and dried wine clung to the room.
Jess groaned, her body sore, head pounding.
She turned—
And froze.
A man stood in her living room.
Not a shadow.
Not a drunk hallucination.
An actual man.
He wasn’t just handsome — he was otherworldly.
His cloak hung loosely over his shoulders, still damp at the edges.
A high-collared black tunic clung to his tall frame, soaked slightly from the rain but somehow… perfect.
His skin was pale, like he belonged to a colder world.
His cheekbones sharp enough to cut silence.
Golden eyes pierced straight through her.
And he… was staring right at her.
She blinked.
Tried to speak.
Failed.
“This is a dream,” she whispered.
“Right? This has to be a dream.”
Her heart stuttered.
Her hands trembled.
And then — for reasons she’d never be able to explain —
She leaned forward…
And kissed him.
Not softly.
Not sensibly.
Just recklessly — the way pain sometimes does when it wants to forget itself.
And he didn’t move.
The kiss lingered in the stillness.
No thunder.
No angels.
Just a broken girl and a stranger who looked like the end of the world.
She pulled back, slowly, confused by her own actions.
Her lips parted, her eyes wide.
But the man only stared at her.
Like she was the strange one.
And maybe she was.
- Writer
