[ 01 ]

"What's that phrase that you young people always say? YOLO! You only live once, Jade. I don't understand why you'd want to willingly put yourself in danger for some stranger!"

A sigh left me as I pulled the phone away from my ear, trying to save myself from my mother's nagging. Carefully weaving my way through the traffic, I switched my phone to my left ear and continued the conversation with my mother.

"Mom, I-"

"It's just ridiculous. People aren't even willing to sacrifice themselves for their family, yet here you are taking a bullet for a damn stranger!"

"It's not like tha-"

"I get a heart attack every time I hear about a gunfight or a car crash, because I'm just so afraid that it'll be you."

"You don't have to-"

"And every time I watch the news, I pray to God nothing's happened to-"

"Mom!" I finally yelled, exasperated.

"Yes, sweetie?" she answered, her voice watery.

I rubbed my temple in annoyance, feeling a headache coming on. This wasn't the first time we had this conversation. While I regretted the worry my job brought my parents, it was not enough to stop me.

I enjoyed doing what I was doing. I didn't do it to make them feel bad, and I wouldn't stop doing it to make them feel good.

"I'm fine, Mom. Nothing's going to happen to me," I stressed, trying to convince her for the umpteenth time.

"Yet," she bit out.

It was all I could do to not scream out in frustration. "Mom, we need to stop fighting about this. We're just going in circles and we're not getting anywhere! I love my job and I'm not leaving it. Nothing you say can change my mind."

She sucked in a deep breath. "I'm not trying to force you to do anything, sweetie. I'm just worried, that's all," Mom murmured, hurt seeping into her voice.

I squeezed my eyes shut, hating that I hurt her. "I know, Mom. I know. It just gets suffocating sometimes, you know?"

There was silence for a beat, then, "I understand. Your life and whatnot. Just call me more often and come visit us soon, okay? All of us miss you."

I let out a sigh of relief, grateful that she dropped it. "Yeah. I will."

"I love you," she said gently and my heart softened.

"I love you too, Mom." And I did, even if she did get on my last nerve. I loved her madly.

The line clicked and I lowered my phone to keep it in my pocket. The silence that filled my ears made me miss the sound of her voice instantly. As annoying as my family was, especially when it came to my job, I knew that it came from a place of love.

But sometimes, their concern could be a bit overwhelming. It made me want to shut them out and stop talking about myself. Because when it came to my job, they were full of criticisms.

Deep down, I loved them as much as they loved me, but there were times when I struggled with their love.

Sometimes, I felt like a disappointment to my family. I knew none of them approved of my job, and that each of them had different expectations of me. I knew that I had chosen a path that no one anticipated I would choose.

In the beginning, the novelty was refreshing. Security training was intense, but it was exhilarating. I threw myself into my work, giving nothing short of one hundred percent in everything I did.

I realised that this was what I thrived on. Not the danger directly, but what came with it. The shrewd thinking, the planning, the calculation.

I relished the challenges that my work brought and I grew with it.

Shuffling on my feet, I started walking. To where, I wasn't sure.

If the people of New York were wondering where a girl with a hoodie was going at three in the morning, they didn't show.

The city was bustling with life, despite the ungodly hour. Squeezing through the crowd people in my way, I walked around aimlessly, not knowing where I wanted to go.

The smell of engine and petrol filled my nostrils as loud honks on the roads almost deafened me. The murmurs of people around made me feel more alone than ever. It was funny how I could still feel so lonely in a city with 8.5 million people.

My mind was wandering in a hundred different directions. That was my weakness, my mentor always said. I thought too much. In the face of danger, that would get me killed.

As I walked, I suddenly found myself in a familiar alley. The sounds and smells of the city filtered in, muted by the concrete around me. I continued walking until I reached where I wanted to go.

My feet stopped in front of a wall that was covered in doodles and drawings. The multitude of colours splashed across couldn't be disguised. This was my wall.

Lifting my hand, I let my fingers run along the surface of the bricks. Streaks of red, blue and green filled every inch and there wasn't a spot that was left untouched.

Memories of me coming here to paint filled my mind immediately, reminding me of both good days and bad days.

Tracing the familiar drawing of a fiery red dragon, I recalled the time Dad thrashed my behind for messing up his office and reading his stuff.

The blue sea on the wall reminded me of my first swimming competition and the golden trophy that was still sitting in my cupboard.

Golden eyes grinned back at me, reminding me of my first love.

This wall documented my life better than any diary could. It was like a literal walk down memory lane every time I came here.

Bending down to remove a crate on the ground, my beloved spray paint cans showed themselves to me. I reached out for a red one, feeling as if my heart was going to burst from everything it was holding in.

Finally, release.

I let myself paint, draw, doodle. My mind was switched off as I pressed on the button of the can. A satisfying sigh left me as the colours sprayed out onto the wall.

I drew a double headed beast with darkness all around, threatening to swallow the beast whole. Yellow was painted outside the swirling darkness, signifying light and hope. Except the beast couldn't see it.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps coming up beside me and I froze, afraid it was the police.

Panicking, I quickly shoved all my spray cans under the crater, hoping to get out of here before the cop found me.

"Hey, hey," a masculine voice rang out from behind me. "Calm down."

I dropped a can at the shock of hearing the person speak.

The voice spoke again. "I'm not a cop, you don't have to run."

Slowly, I straightened my legs and turned around, fully expecting to see a fat old man with lots of tattoos.

Instead, I'm met with the silhouette of a tall and lean man. I couldn't see his face clearly, so I wasn't able to tell if he was somebody I knew.

"See?" The man raised both his hands. "Not a cop."

My heart was beating erratically but I didn't let my nervousness show. "Who are you?"

"Nobody. I was just walking around when I saw you painting."

My brows furrowed. "What do you want, then?"

"Nothing. I just thought you looked interesting and wanted to see what exactly you were painting." His gaze fell on the drawings behind me. "They're good."

I stared at him warily, choosing not to answer. Silence fell between us when he suddenly spoke up again.

"Want to teach me?"

I jerked up. "What?"

The man slipped his hands into his pockets and shrugged. "I was watching you. Seems like a good stress reliever. I wanna do it some time too."

I blinked, unsure of whether I should feel creeped out or flattered.

Taking my silence as a yes, he picked up the spray can on the ground. "So I just press here and start moving it around?"

I was still standing there, not processing the situation. The stranger cocked his head at me, silently persuading me to help him.

I threw my hands up. "Ah, whatever. Fuck it."

My feet shuffled forward and I adjusted his grip on the can. "Hold it vertically," I told him.

Then, he pressed down and a spray of paint came out. A soft sigh escaped him.

"Satisfying, isn't it?" I murmured without thinking.

He nodded vigorously. "Okay, teach me how to draw."

I smiled despite myself. His excitement was contagious. "What do you want to draw?"

The man faltered as I waited for his reply.

"The sea," he said finally, looking at me. "The sea."

"Pull the can back so the paint would cover a larger area. Then keep drawing lines with the spray paint until you get the shape you want."

He nodded and started painting. As he worked, I wondered why I was sharing such a personal space with him. This was my wall, and no one had painted here before.

Not wanting to read into it, I picked up another can and continued my drawing of the two-headed beast and the darkness that surrounded it.

We painted in comfortable silence, neither of us saying anything. It was a connection I'd never felt before.

"Why the sea?" I found myself asking suddenly.

The man didn't look my way as he answered. "I feel like I'm drowning."

Something in his voice told me not to go down this line of questioning any further, so I merely nodded.

He looked at my drawing. "What's that?"

"A beast."

"Why'd you draw a beast?"

Because I feel like one. "Just had a bad day today," I said instead.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Talk to this stranger? No thanks. But before I could tell him that, I heard footsteps behind me. And it didn't sound like one person.

Cops.

Snatching my can out of the man's hand, I scrambled to put everything under the crater. Clearly, the stranger was confused. "What's going on?"

I didn't bother answering him as I tried to collect all my other cans.

Please let me be fast enough.

"This is the police! Put your hands up!"

I groaned.

"Put your hands up!" the cop repeated.

Turning around in defeat, I put my hands up obediently. My eyes strained against the torchlight that was thrust in my face. In the light, I could see that there were two cops in front of us.

One cop went to the stranger while the other came to me. "Are you spray painting on public property?"

I didn't answer, since it was obvious to everyone present.

"Can I see your identification card, Miss?"

"I didn't bring it out with me, Officer."

The officer frowned. "Well, I'm going to have to bring you into the station then."

I had to press my lips together to stop a groan from escaping. Great. I was going to jail.

The cop slapped a pair of handcuffs on my hands and I had to fight the urge to punch him in the face. When I turned, I saw the other cop doing the same to the stranger.

At least I wasn't the only one getting arrested.

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"This is all your fault!" the man hissed. We were both locked up in a cell together while we waited for someone to bail us out. Kaden, a friend of mine in the agency, was on his way to the station.

My mouth fell open in disbelief at his accusation and I jerked to look at him in the eye. "My fault? If you hadn't asked me to teach you how to draw, I wouldn't be in this mess!"

"You were the one who was vandalising public property in the first place!"

"Well, I would've got away with it if you hadn't stopped me from leaving!"

"Oh, so now I'm the one at fault? Sure, push everything to me. You're completely blameless, aren't you?"

I glared into those green eyes of his that reminded me of vomit, wanting more than anything to slap him senseless. Oh wait, I didn't need to. He already was.

"If I had gotten a stain on my record, I would never have forgiven you," I said lowly.

The man scowled. "As if my reputation is any less valuable than yours. You don't even know half of it."

My fists clenched as I told myself not to punch him. I had just escaped punishment for vandalism, there was no need to add assault to the list.

On the account of the fact that this was our first offence, the police had decided to pardon us this time round. We were let off with a stern warning and a burning hatred for one another.

The silence was immensely uncomfortable, but I'd prefer this to hearing him talk. Remember what I said about the connection I felt with him? I took that back. The only thing I felt for him was contempt.

When the police questioned us, he was quick to push the blame to me, claiming innocence five seconds into the questioning.

"Stop fighting, kids. You guys are disturbing me," one of the cops drawled lazily.

I glared mutinously at the idiot in my cell, letting my eyes say what my mouth could not. His brown hair was matted with sweat and his face was twisted into a perpetual scowl. Clearly, the wonderful stench of the dirty cell was not helping his mood.

The man held my eye contact steadily, returning the same amount of hostility in those green swirls.

The both of us sat in silence for the rest of the time while the air between us crackled with tension. I was waiting for Kaden to come bail me out and I was already prepared for a five-hour-long drilling session on where I was.

And guess who did I have to thank for that? I gave the person next to me the stink eye.

He stuck out his tongue at me. How immature, I thought even as I returned the gesture.

We were both throwing each other the dirtiest looks we could muster when the cop approached the cell, unlocking it"Jade Otterson. Your friend is here to bail you out."

Hallelujah!

I stood up and dusted myself off my seat. Then, I turned to look back at my partner-in-crime and smiled at him.

"Have a nice life," I said sweetly before walking out of there.

As I left the station, I hoped and prayed to all things holy that I'd never see him again. And oh, how disappointed I'd be.

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hello omg im so excited im literally shaking this is my first story ever and im rlly excited to have u on the ride !!! i have so many things planned for this story and i hope you will enjoy reading it as much as i have enjoyed writing it! please vote and comment your thoughts - i'd love to hear them.

until next time,
fleur xoxo