An Angel's Feather

I licked the remains of my chocolate ice cream off my lips with relish while Milla continued to talk to me. It was a warm night - because of the ice - which is why Milla had persuaded me to go swimming at the lake. It would be more attractive at night, as she said. Still, I didn't go into the water. I preferred to watch what was happening from a distance, as I usually do. Being the center of attention was never my thing. Maybe it was just my way, but maybe I had developed that way because it wasn't easy as a child. There was a lot that bothered me, but by now I was hardened ... Milla and I turned into an alley. I was often lazy and knew all the abbreviations in this city. Much to my friend's discomfort. Relaxed and with my hands in the pockets of my black jeans, I trotted forward. 

"Nyria!"

The shrill screeching of the young woman next to me made me stop. With an outstretched arm, she pointed to something or someone.

"We have to get out of here, now!" My friend yelled in panic. I was silent, just looked at her with raised eyebrows.

“Don't you recognize this guy? His name is Zayn Vaher. He's a killer! He has several people on his conscience. He is on the run! "

I was still silent, but I couldn't help but take a closer look at the man in front of us. He crouched on the floor with his back against the wall. Said wall was smeared with blood and a puddle of this thick, red substance had also formed under the guy. My eyes narrowed. His hair was black, as was mine. He wasn't wearing anything but torn jeans. Was barefoot and wasn't wearing a shirt, so you had a clear view of his well-toned upper body. Countless scars adorned his chest and stomach. He was also dirty. His legs were long, probably over six feet. Slowly my eyes found his face. A prominent chin, full and curved lips and a straight nose. His eyes were closed, but I couldn't miss how long his eyelashes were. I swallowed. I liked it! It was tattooed. An interwoven pattern ran over his shoulder to the elbow of his right arm. Blood ran down his arm and temple. He had a gash on his forehead and all the blood suggested he must have had a pretty bad wound on his back. Something inside of me stirred.    

“Let's get out of here, Nyria. Immediately!"

Milla pulled on my arm, but I snatched it from her.

"No." I heard myself say in a monotonous voice.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see her eyes widen.

"What's wrong with you? Otherwise you are so cold and cruel! Do you feel sorry for this bastard? "

My ice green eyes narrowed. Bastard? Milla wasn't a person who put such words into her mouth. She seemed really scared.

"Maybe he's armed?" She whispered, staring at the man again.

I bowed my head. Milla was right, I hardly ever felt any pity. As for my feelings ... well, they were pretty stunted.

"Do you see a gun on him somewhere, Milla?" I mumbled and moved towards the wounded man as if by myself. I heard her take a few steps back. Her breathing had quickened and was now nothing more than a frightened gasp.

"You know what? Do what you want, I'll call the police! "

I snorted, but didn't show my anger about it.

"As you want." Was all I could say.

Then I heard Milla run away. I slowly felt my thigh, on which I carried a knife, as I did every evening. The jacket that I had tied around my waist hid it from Milla's eyes. When you were out at night, you had to be prepared for anything. Milla had never been so careful and foresighted. If she were traveling alone, she would have no chance. So in the event that this guy was actually armed, I would certainly be able to defend myself. I was anything but weak! I approached him slowly. So here I was, in a dark alley. With a murderer lying injured at my feet. I crouched down and just stared at him. Was he unconscious? My question was answered promptly because he opened his eyes. Any woman would have gasped by now, but I stayed silent. They were probably the most incredible eyes a man could have. They were multicolored and really stood out thanks to his light tan. The edges of the iris were dark blue, ran into a dark green, which then became lighter and ended in a golden yellow around the pupil. I swallowed. His face was almost flawless, only a fine scar ran across his right eye. But that was exactly what made it even more perfect for me! I would have loved to stretch out my hand and touch that scar, but of course I didn't. Instead, we continued to glare at each other. Nobody wanted to say anything.     

"You should leave, just like your little friend." He suddenly broke the silence.

I blinked. That voice was almost hypnotic. So rough and deep that it sent a shiver down my spine. He probably wanted to hide it, but I heard immediately that he was at the end of his tether. It was a miracle he was even conscious with all the blood he'd lost. I started to answer when his eyes closed. Now taken by surprise, I closed my mouth again. Worried I sat up, then grabbed him and pulled him up. As my hand brushed his back, I felt the masses of blood. I refrained from grimacing. It felt like a deep flesh wound. Should I take him to the hospital? Probably not, that would also create difficulties. Puffing, I took him to my apartment, which thank God was not far away.