I say, walking over to the two beautiful creatures. “What’s your story?” I ask, unable to help myself. I want to know Tristan, really know him; his past, his dreams, his heartaches. If he’s my angel, the least I can do is try my best to be deserving of such a human being. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” he says darkly, eyes taking on an intense look that frightens me slightly. “You’ll hear it anyways,” he mumbles. My heart picks up, unwilling to be unaffected by his words. Telling him my story would mean risking this feeling of perfection. I don’t want his curiosity to intrude on my fantasy; my fantasy that everything is normal, that I am not a wounded soul on a mission to rebuild. Revealing my past would mean giving Tristan a free-pass into my future, and part of me is still hesitant to subject him to the horror that was my life. Picking up on my hesitation, Tristan smiles, but it isn’t a kind smile.
What do You think about Pieces Of A Mending Heart?
