"You left but your memories stayed!" - Avijeet Das

Bright light shone through the large, floor-to-ceiling windows of the enormous room. The stained glass illuminated the room in a spectrum of colours that seemed to have a magical glow, stretching across the floor like a rainbow, making one think for a moment that one was in an old church. But the place was not suitably furnished for that. The floor too wooden, the paintings not Christian enough, and there were no crosses or altars in sight. It seemed to be a simple hall with stained glass windows, no real furnishings, and yet nothing was normal about this place, nothing would ever be normal here.
It was like an echo trapped within these four walls. An echo of the past, a long, adventurous and tragic past. This place had seen many things, had many stories to tell, of great battles, bloody deeds, great promises of love, and the collapse of the ceiling when the Germans dropped their bombs on London in 1940.
Rebuilt, revived and refilled with new memories, new happenings, this place would forever reflect the events of the past, it had locked deep inside, indestructible, unforgettable.

All alone in the middle of the vast hall, a young girl sat on the floor, looking tiny and narrow surrounded by the vast size of the room. Concentrated, she was finishing one of her drawings in the brilliant light of the sun, not seeming to be disturbed by anything, drawing each line carefully and neatly, nibbling on her lower lip, which already seemed quite brittle, the only outward reflection of her deep and otherwise undetectable nervousness.
Her curly brown hair fell into her face and again and again she brushed it behind her ear, but unruly as they were, they kept coming back to the front.
Perfectionist, she did her work, trying hard to make the picture meet her expectations, to be flawless, not even noticing the people who entered the room and destroyed the peace, the whole harmonious and peaceful picture, but she had expected them. She had known that they would come, that they would come for her, and her teeth finally left her lip. A soft, inaudible sigh escaped her and although she had noticed the intruders into her little kingdom, she didn't want to have to pay them any attention just yet.

"Malia, you're going to break your back lying on the floor like that!" said a middle-aged woman with bronze-coloured skin and a motherly expression on her face, who was reluctant to see the young girl sitting on the floor like that instead of at a table, as she thought was more appropriate.
"Just a moment, then I'm done," the girl replied without looking up. Shaking her head, but with a smile on her lips, the woman turned back to the other two companions, both older men in expensive suits and with grim faces, who kept looking sceptically and critically at the girl, as if they had some concern that she might disappear, run away, do something stupid.
Malia didn't listen to them though, she knew exactly why they were here, she knew it was because of her, but she wasn't willing to leave everything just because some important people were there. She wasn't ready for any of this anyway, she would love to escape, to run away, to get away from them all, but she would stay good and well-behaved, see what would happen. She had no other choice. She had resigned herself to the way things were. They would always be in charge of her life, he had warned her about it, but she had not wanted to listen and everything that would happen now, it was her own fault.
"So you are painting once again, why am I not surprised?"

Smiling, the young girl looked up at another person in the room who had just entered. It was a young woman, a few years older than herself, with dyed blonde hair, a stylish black hat perched on her head, and wrapped in a coat that actually seemed far too warm for the weather.
"I try to block out everyone else here. I don't know why they ask for my permission when in the end it doesn't matter anyway and I'm being forced to participate here," Malia replied, putting her painting stuff in her bag, knowing that there would be nothing more quiet here, that the noise would prevent her from doing her work and she wouldn't be left alone until she cooperated, but she wouldn't. She had already made up her mind about the matter and she didn't trust these people.

"They all want the best and are very concerned. Kellin's behaviour lately is strange, and you know in what a difficult situation we all are in," the young woman reprimanded her, but before Malia could answer, tell her how little she cared, loud voices could be heard coming from the hallway, clearly approaching, bringing something ominous with them, finally collapsing the peace that was already crumbling anyway. It sounded as if someone was arguing, as if several people were shouting at each other, and just as she stood up, the door was opened again and stunned, everyone present looked at the young man with the once handsome face, but who was now forever disfigured by several scars. Scars that would always tell a terrible story.
The young man looked upset, confused and dangerous the way he held the gun in his hand, pointing it at each of the people present, who all cried out in shock, drawing in their air heavily with horror. The other two men in the room already had their hands in their coat pockets, probably ready to draw their own weapons, but they didn't risk it any further. They would be dead before they even unlocked them, and they knew it. That was no one inexperienced standing in front of them. This man knew exactly how to shoot and how to kill, and he had no qualms about doing just that. Malia had seen him shoot before, she had seen him kill, she knew with what calmness he was able to do it, how skilfully and without difficulty he could do it. If he wanted someone dead here, they would die, there was no question about it.
Like a wild animal, the man looked around, searching for something specific, someone specific, and only when he found what he was looking for did he seem to relax a bit, become calmer, but now began to tremble in return.
"Kellin, what are you doing?" the motherly woman shouted, upset and horrified, while Kellin had eyes only for Malia, blocking out everyone else, focusing on his target.

With a few long strides and the gun now pointed at her, he reached her quickly and grabbed her not very gently by the arm, pulling her to him, pulling her to his dark side where his soul cried out happy, satisfied to have found her, to hold her. She was his, they belonged together, always had, always will be.
More people, meanwhile, had entered the room, all speaking soothingly and pleadingly to the boy with the gun, worried, shocked, not seeming to understand what was happening. Kellin had always been different, dangerous and aggressive in some ways, but towards her he was always self-sacrificing. He would never have done anything to his Malia, most were very sure of that. Never would he have harmed her, who would ever have wanted to harm Malia? She was in a way an angel of a girl, the angel with the brown curls and the big blue eyes, and yet they both stood there now. He was looking at her desperately and she was looking lost as she stood there in his grip, the gun pointed at her head, facing death so defenceless.
He looked like a creature from another world, like a fallen angel, disfigured for eternity, evil and sinister. And she was just a porcelain doll in his claws, would break at every wrong move, would perish, be damaged beyond repair. Everyone had known it was so, since they knew each other these two roles had always been clearly distributed.
There was Kellin, the scary and dangerous boy, and then there was Malia, the fragile, lovable girl. Now everyone saw how such combinations would end, now everyone saw what they had all been afraid of from the very beginning, even though they had been so sure that nothing like that would happen, that it could never come to that.
The voices of the others in the room were so loud, they were all pleading with him to lower the gun, to stop, wanting to bring him to his senses, but no one dared to get close to them, no one wanted to dare him to do something that would end tragically.
"Kellin," Malia anxiously finally addressed the man who would just decide about her life. Almost softly his name seemed out of her mouth, like a love song so beautiful that his heart threatened to burst. Pleadingly she looked up at him, seeming close to tears, but he did not respond to her. He stood behind her now, unable to bear to look her directly in the eyes, the gun still pointed at her head, the other arm wrapped around her middle, so that he pressed her tightly against him. He could feel her, the warmth of her body, the life in her, her own soul.
Tears ran down the girl's face and pleadingly she looked to the others for help, but none came to her aid as they disappeared and her cries were the only ones left behind, like another echo that would haunt the room for years to come.

Aloha :) Small warning beforehand: the first chapters are, very, very long, don't let that scare you off, it then continues in normal lengths.

This is just a translation. The original story is in German, so there might be some grammar mistakes.

This isn't a typical badboy story, even though it might seem that way sometimes. There is a touch of fantasy here, after all I am a 'professional' (lol) fanfiction writer and writing in a normal world is just not for me. But don't worry, there are no vampires, witches or whatnot appearing here, it's just more possible than it probably would be in an ordinary story xx