it was nothing lara hadnât seen before , yet the shock never truly went away â between the notches of his spine sat bullseye markings of the ends of cigarettes , slashes from leather belts and backhanded hits striping flesh like some wild animal . aged , scarred wounds mimicked texasâ barren wastelands , troughs of gouged skin healed over from years of neglect . constellations of markings christened the flesh of his back , marbled with the hatred stephen cannon had inflicted on his oldest son day-in , day-out from the moment he was brought into that bleak , unpropitious world . no matter how much pain he experienced throughout their day to day , the bullet that had skimmed his arm and now left his bicep weeping red , it was merely a pinch in comparison to his childhood , a calendar of endless days where he was reminded just how meaningless his existence was . instead , he found solace in caring for others , in being the father his brothers never had , and the guardian angel for the woman at his side .Â
â no , no â we wonât be hassled , â and although he didnât fully believe his own promise , he stood by it for laraâs sake . the most they were likely to encounter were confused cleaners , were ladies with towels spiralled beneath their arms knocking on the door come morning ; he would politely decline their services , slip then a ten dollar bill , and request they came back in a few days , when the obsidian-black getaway car was as far down the texas highway as those worn , dust-marked tyres could carry them . â weâll be alright . we jusâ gotta get cleaned up ân i might see if reception got any band-aids or somethinâ for my .. â a glance to his arm , â âgator bite , or whatever the hell i told the guy at the desk . you reckon he believed me ?? â was it concerning , that the image of staring eyes and a blank , soulless face hadnât shaken striker ?? the male was already too far gone , hardened by the trauma , the nightmares , the thrashing terrors of nights where stephen cannon infiltrated his dreams and threatened to take him wherever his mother had ended up . he wondered , in those nights when him and lara were curled beneath silken sheets , whether georgia would have liked her , whether his mother would have given her approval to such a relationship . he could imagine it now â her freckled face scrunched , her auburn hair tucked behind her ears , arms outstretched to welcome her future daughter in-law ⊠they were the moments that had been robbed from him . from them . as much as they dreamed , a regular â relationship â had never been within arms reach .Â
the most he could show was tenderness , was empathy , as he slunk into the tub beside lara , taking her body in his arms and tugging her against his own . a stubbled chin rested at her shoulder , sweetly rocking them from side to side as crimson diluted through the waterways and swirled , alongside the dust of the desert , down a rusted and unclean plughole . â itâs alright . i gotcha . i gotcha , â he assured , although striker was sure his own blood â deep red , borderline brown thanks to a diet of garbage , tennessee whiskey and cigarettes â didnât help the building anxiety . â itâll come off , see ?? â his hand , roughened from manual labour and years of hard grafting , washed away a smear of crimson from her hand , leaving the skin beneath ( at the very least ) physically free of the reminders of violence , â itâs cominâ off . jusâ gotta be patient with it . bloodâs got a habit of not doinâ what you tell it to . â perhaps that was what differentiated them , the westies and their competition ; such tenderness had no place within gang warfare , and yet striker would sacrifice his last shred of humanity for no man . it was the only thing separating himself from his father , after all . after a moment of silence , he responded : â of course iâll stay . âs long as you want me to , âÂ
       She didnât believe him. But she was grateful for his white lies. It was tonight she made her name an eternal part of the most wanted list. The one that was created by her fellow fallen angels.. demons, if you wanted to call them by their real names. âYou told him that an alligator bit you?â Through her tears, she laughed. It was more a chuckle than laugh, true, but it was a start. If she could let out a chuckle, surely she would be able to laugh again. âYour brain..â in that small moment of amusement, the one she couldnât see clearly through, Lara forgot the reason behind their entrapment between the walls of a kissed by dust motel. But if she could focus on him, the man who stood in front of her, then maybe she could stay in the fog that was protecting her from the clouds of reality she pulled down on them. If there were needed three months from summer to winter, from warmth to coldness, Lara & Striker had found that eternal truth to be entirely wrong.. it was enough to pull a trigger to fall into the depths of cold shades.Â
        If it were any different day, any different moment, the one sheâd have tried to capture forever, sheâd have laughed upon feeling his stubble upon her shoulder, loving and hating how its harshness felt against the softness of her skin.. sheâd be telling him to go shave it off, heâd be trying to kiss her, sheâd be avoiding his lips while laughing her ass off, only for the two of them to inevitably find a way to show each other what they were unable to say. But today, all she could was to lean on him, let herself fall apart in his arms as her world was inevitably crumbling down. To see the blood as the rope that was pulling her up to the world that would mark her as a sinner till the end of it.. what kind of sentence would she serve for thousands of years? âBut itâs not-,â the brunette wanted to protest her loverâs words, wanted to turn around and point at him how every part of her skin was still c r i m s o n  r e d, âhow canât you not see it? Itâs-,â all over me, she wanted to finish, scream if she had to, but as her eyes fell on his hands, trying to connect his words with the images in front of them, give them meaning, she didnât know what was real anymore. Were her eyes lying to her, was he trying to shield her from the monster she had turned into? âYou promise? Because I feel it will never come off.â But what she didnât realize, was how safe she felt in his arms.. her body wasnât shaking so much anymore, while serenity was slowly taking its place. Was there a heaven above her?
        And she wanted to ask him why. Why would he stay with someone like her? How could he? It was only matter of time before sheâd burn. But the fallen beauty turned around to face the man who was determined to burn with her, to find the truth in his eyes.. the truth they were determined to keep for themselves. And she tried to speak. Her lips had parted away, but to speak.. why? The loudest conversation they had ever had was at that moment, their eyes admitting the truth both would bury within themselves, as if more than happy to fall down to the bottoms of the sea with the anchor around their ankles to keep it safe. âYou know that I didnât mean to do it, right? Because I didnât. I just.. you need to believe me because I really didnât mean it, Striker, I didnât, but I just-..â she couldnât lose him. That was the truth she couldnât say. Not because she was afraid to say it, but because she was too scared of that becoming a part of her reality. There was no way sheâd ever lose him. She couldnât. The thought of losing him, of not hearing that boyish laugh of his or to see those eyes of his sparkling with joy only child could harbor, she couldnât bare it. No one told her it would be that hard, no one warned her taking her first life would drive her off the cliff into such a deep abyss, but for him.. Lara knew sheâd do it a thousand times - over and over again.Â