It was like waking up in an icy cold river, he thinks. That feeling of sinking; deeper, deeper, deeper, as he realizes that there is no air for him to breathe, and the only light is the one coming from the moon, it’s rays of light distorted and its beauty twisted by the current that is flapping softly and gently like the wings of a moth. And he yearns to reach for the light, to grope at its saving countenance with fumbling fingers, but he can’t, because the vice grip of the water’s icy tendrils have bound his slowly succumbing limbs. While he hopes for sleep, the fear of dying keeps him awake for hours and hours, and days and days, and years to come…

Luka glanced out of his window, stained with translucent, white, paint-splattered residue from the long past April rains. The sun was not yet above the horizon; it must have been about four in the morning. He stretched his arms up and wriggled his fingers, slipping his cream-colored dress shirt over his head(and of course he always buttoned it to the top). Next he slipped on his khakis, his coarse, brown vest, and his signature olive newsboy cap over his red-blonde hair. Of course, the boy’s job was a newsboy. Starting at the age of eleven, Luka had become attached to the job and kept it for the next five years: He was now sixteen. Heading out down the stairs, the bitter aroma of fresh, roasted coffee wafted its way towards his nose, and he took a sharp intake of breath.

“Buongiorno, Luka,” his father rumbled, the morning light glinting in his ice blue eyes. Luka’s father, Giotto, was a fairly stoic person, and the only emotions he had to show were only seen by his late wife. His graying honey-blonde hair was always slicked back in shiny columns, and he always seemed to maintain the rough stubble on his chin which took part in covering a fraction of the deep, white scar that ran across his face.

“Good morning, Papa,” Luka said. He looked out the window and sighed. “It’s closer to night though. No one is out yet.”

Grabbing his gray coat, he noticed the absence of his brother, Marco. Marco Adriano was a talented individual, and quite possibly the best shot in their gang-ridden maze of a town, other than his own father, of course.

“Where is Marco?” he asked.

His father sighed. “You know your brother is always at the gunsmith shop. He practically lives with his job.”

Luka laughed as he grabbed a piece of bread and headed out the door.

“Haha, I suppose so. I wish I could work as hard as he does.”

“Make sure you say hello to him today!” His father yelled after him.

“Alright!” Luka yelled as he grabbed his bike and rode in the direction of the printing shop.

A cheerful bell chimed as Luka strolled into the printing shop. Startled, a balding man with square, wire-rimmed glasses and ink stained fingers emerged from behind a large stack of folded newspapers. The smile lines on his freckled face deepened as he smiled at the boy.

“Buongiorno, Luka.”

“Buongiorno, Mr. Emery,” Luka hummed as his own freckled face broke into a grin.

“Ah, Luka, that’s right! I’m sorry,” Mr. Emery coughed, his smile falling. “Luigi called in sick today. You’re going to have to take over his part of town today.”

Luka just smiled brighter, saying, “That’s okay, Mr. Emery,” as he diligently folded a stack of newspapers like he had for the last five years. “Luigi should get a lot of rest. Tell him I hope he feels better soon.” And with that he rode off.

His bike came to slow at the end of an intersection as Luka looked up at his last destination. Locking his bike on the bike stands outside the corroded, peach-colored apartment complex, he trudged up the splintered stairs to the third floor. The weathered boards groaned under his weight, the eerie spider-vein cracks in the wall seeming to deepen in his wake.

“Grandma Margot!” he called from across the hall as he spotted an elderly lady, back hunched over and thin, twig-like arms struggling with the weight of her groceries. Luka rushed to help her, gathering the crinkled paper bags in his arms and leading her to the hotel room.

“Miss Margot, you really ought to get a room on the first floor, it isn’t good for your health.”

“Bah,” she spat, waving her hand at him. “It’s much cheaper, and I’ve got some life left in me yet, just you watch.”

Luka chuckled. “I suppose you do.” He paused. “Say, Grandma, have you heard about that gang that’s been terrorizing some of the civilians lately?”

“What are you talking about? I was one of the first people to know.”

Luka frowned, concerned. “You ought to be careful. They could kill you.”

The older woman merely laughed, and shook her fist in a tenacious manner. “No one messes with old Margot. I can shoot as well as your old man, just you watch.”

Leaving the dilapidated apartment complex behind, Luka exited the double doors, shoving the stubborn wood open by its corroded gold handles, only to see a shiny black car speed precariously(and probably illegally) fast towards the intersection. He gasped. A girl suddenly raced across the street. Driven by a sudden surge of adrenaline, he pumped his legs and rapidly took off, running towards the girl. Reaching her, he saw her terror-filled eyes widen at the sight of the oncoming car. Extending his arm, Luka reached out and grabbed the girl, pulling her to the safety of the sidewalk as the car rushed by, the dusty wind ruffling her white dress, almost seemingly mocking her in anger. Heart pounding, he exhaled in frustration, furrowing his brow and looking up at the girl with the intention to scold her, whoever she was, for doing something so stupid. Only at that time did he get a good look at her. She had dark ebony hair that was pulled into a high ponytail, falling in feathery wisps down her back, and even darker ebony eyes, which held an air of burning, dangerous serenity, like a lion waiting to rip its prey apart. He gaze moved down a bit to her cheeks, where he noticed that she had freckles like him. Suddenly, he felt a stinging slap resonate through cheek, and, in shock, could only mutter an extremely stupid-sounding “Ow.” The girl glared at him.

“It’s rude to stare,” she reprimanded in a low voice. It sounded like a crackling bonfire.

“It’s also rude to slap the person who saved your life,” he retorted, taking his chances. Her eyebrows furrowed, the corners of her mouth folding upwards in a cruel grin. It definitely wasn’t one you saw everyday. The town he lived in being a fairly small one, Luka practically knew everyone. But, he had never seen this girl before.

And thus he so idiotically uttered, “I don’t believe I’ve seen you before.”

The girl looked at him incredulously, scrunching her nose and blowing a stray strand of jet-black hair out of her face.

“Of course not, I just moved here.”

Luka looked around, scanning the buildings. Her eyes followed his, gaze flitting back to his face every once in awhile. Her facial expression made him feel like she thought he was a massive creep.

“So, where do you live?” he asked.

Eyeing him suspiciously, she remained silent for a moment, before hesitantly answering, “Not so far. Only a few minutes from here.”

Eyes shifting down from the sky, he turned to study her face.

“I’ll walk you.”

“No. I am not walking home with a stranger.”

“I saved your life, you owe me.”

“I owe you nothing.”

“Really? I beg to differ.”

He raised his eyebrows at her as she whipped her head around to face him, eyes blowing wide in disbelief. His sky-blue eyes hardened into orbs of ice as he glared into her fire filled coal black ones in a silent stare-off. Finally, the girl grunted in resignation. The look in her eyes burned almost as much as her flaming cheeks.

“Fine.” Turning on her heel, the girl sprinted down the sidewalk, her hair whipping Luka in the face. She was obviously not going to wait for him to catch up.

Rounding the last corner, Luka finally caught sight of the girl, her white dress floating around her in the wind. It made her look fragile, almost as if she’d blow away along with all the pastel petals swirling around her(where did they even come from?). He knew, though, that if he told her she probably wouldn’t hesitate to sock him in the face again. Raising her eyebrows in gesticulation, she nodded towards the cream-colored building in front of her, the windows bright with the colors of various…flowers.

“You…run a flower shop,” he observed. She deadpanned.

“No duh.”

“I didn’t take you for a flower person.”

Her dark irises only seemed to drill deeper holes into his face.

“It’s not like I like it. It’s my father’s business, although if you’d seen him before knowing his vocation, this is probably the last thing you’d think he’d do.”

“And why is that?”

Her glare only sharpened. Sighing, she started towards the glass door.

“Well, thanks,” she sighed. The girl was halfway up the stairs before Luka felt the unquenchable urge to shout something out to her.

“Wait!” he called after her retreating form. Gripping the staircase, she whipped around and stormed towards the door, throwing it back open and crossing her arms.

“What,” she drawled, an exasperated sigh that, for some strange and unknown reason, made his face break out in a brilliant smile.

Continuing, he asked, “What’s your name?”

“That’s it?” she questioned, rolling her wrist. “That’s all you wanted?” When she received no answer, only a series of eager and rapid nods from the innocently smiling boy, the girl sighed and mumbled, “I’m Anna. Anna Cozart.”

His freckled cheeks stretched as an even brighter grin lit up Luka’s face, causing the girl to sigh in disgust and look away.

“I’m Luka Adriano. Pleased to meet you, Anna,” he said, extending his hand in greeting.

Anna glared at his hand, eyeing it suspiciously. Finally, after nearly five minutes of glaring and awkward hand twitching, she slipped her hand into his and gave it one solid shake, only to scamper back to the safety of the shop. The side of Luka’s mouth quirked upwards, and he shouted after her, “We should start hanging out!” The girl merely waved her hand dismissively. “Good luck with that.”

 

But he still came the next day after his news runs, and the day after that, and the day after that. To his constant visits, she responded, “You must be really lonely if you want to hang out with an antisocial, crabby girl all day.” He just said it was because she was interesting, and also because the town heavily lacked pretty girls.

“That was corny, Luka.”

“Nearly everything I say is corny.”

“Fair point.”

On the first day Luka learned that Anna was half Asian, her father being Italian and her mother being an Asian florist he had met when he traveled to said country. To prove this, Anna showed him her collection of flowers she’d salvaged from her home in Asia.

“These ones with purple spots and long, fuzzy petals are Japanese toad lilies, and these tiny trees are bonsai trees. Also from Japan.” She smiled as she brushed her fingers across the small leaves. “I like them because they’re like miniature gardens. And here’s a plum blossom from China and these small white ones that smell like tea are jasmines…”

At the end of his visit Anna had held a couple of blossoms out at him.

“Plumerias,” she muttered, avoiding his gaze and choosing instead to focus on the floor. “They mean new beginnings.”

Luka smiled and took the flowers, opening his mouth to say something, but she had already retreated past the door and was halfway up the stairs.

On the second day Luka learned that Anna was actually allergic to pollen, which was why she hated working in the flower shop despite being so good at it. Her allergies had gotten in the way of almost everything, causing her eyes to tear up nearly every five seconds and causing her to go rapidly go through her stash of tissues. She sneezed for what seemed like the fiftieth time before Luka had burst out laughing. Rubbing her nose and scowling, Anna punched him in the arm.

“I told you, this is exactly why I hate working here. And it’s not my fault there’s so much pollen, it’s just so hot today,” she complained before sneezing one more time, ruffling the pot of daisies she was holding. Chuckling, he took the pot out of her hands and set it down on the windowsill before fetching her a box of tissues(it was probably her fifteenth). She had given him a single bloom of lily-of-the-valley (meaning sweetness, as she had told him prior). It was probably half the result of her sarcastic nature and half her being sore from before. The flower thing became mandatory.

On the fifth day Luka met Anna’s dad. And to be honest he wasn’t sure what exactly to make of the man. He didn’t know what he had been expecting, maybe someone a little like his own father; hair slicked back and cleanly trimmed, black like Anna’s, eyes thin and mysteriously dark, maybe a little warmer than his daughter’s own frigid irises. What he wasn’t expecting(at all, at all) was a man with hair that grew long past his ears; dark, chocolate brown, and untamed. His eyes were gray, almost colorless, as if all the color had been drained from them, and the physique of someone who had been in the army for far, far too long. He was scary to say the least, even more so than Grandma Margot with a shotgun in her bony hands(which was plenty scary, might he add). With Anna standing next to him, eyes narrowed dangerously and brows furrowed more so than normal, arms crossed tightly and her angry energy radiating outwards and seeming to be boiling beneath the surface of her tan skin, he could definitely see the resemblance. But, as Anna stiffly introduced him, a smile had graced the older man’s rugged face, warm as summer, warmer than his hands felt when Luka had shaken them.

“I’m actually kind of glad that you’ve made friends with my daughter,” her father had confessed as Anna was attending to some customers. “I was so afraid she was going to be lonely, with there being nearly no one her age here and all. I’m glad she has someone reliable as her first friend.”

“Well,” Luka nervously started. “Your daughter’s a wonderful person. I’m happy to be her friend.”

He couldn’t help but wonder when the man was going to kill him. Surprisingly, the stocky man began to laugh, which almost got Luka to chuckle, until he noticed that the man’s canines were unnecessarily sharp. He then settled for a grimace-like smile. Today was a yellow rose, apology. Anna smiled apologetically as she had given it to him, probably aware of his discomfort while speaking to her father.

 *    *    *    *    *

 

On the tenth day Luka learned that Anna had a knack for knife throwing. He found out when a group of “sketchy” individuals began loitering in front of the crowd of pastel tulips by the door.

As he had walked in, one boy attempted to trip him, while another gave him a rough shove. He whipped his head up in anger, wanting to see what kind of person would just shove someone for fun. He was only met with a menacing glare from one of the boys, his wild red hair falling into his face.

Making his way swiftly over to Anna, who he spotted writing something at the tall marble desk near the back of the building, he asked, concerned and in rapid succession: “Do you know those guys? Why are they here? How long have they been there? Do you need me to kick them out?”

Not looking up from her swirling pen-strokes, she nonchalantly answered: “Have no idea, never seen them before. Been hanging around there since about three hours ago.”

An accusing glare settled itself on Luka’s face. She didn’t sound scared, but he could see that she was trembling slightly. Her slender fingers shook just the tiniest bit, making squiggles at the ends of her black cursive.

The gang of boys was making an awful lot of sound, and, with their intimidating looks, was scaring customers from coming in. Anna’s eye began to twitch as the boys began rough-housing around the entrance. The fighting escalated, and customers began to look angry.

Finally, one of the boys knocked another in the jaw, sending him toppling down onto various flowers and crushing them in the process. An explicit silence followed, before the red haired one from before started laughing. Soon they were all guffawing and pointing at the one who had fallen, who was then getting up and brushing the dirt off of himself, also laughing.

Luka inhaled sharply, preparing himself to go over there and teach the boys a lesson, but before he could do anything, with a flurry of movement, Anna had whipped out a knife(that was for some reason under the desk), wound her arm backwards, and flung the knife in their direction. It zoomed past the red hair’s ear, embedding itself deep into the beige wall behind him and drawing a bead of crimson blood from the shell of his ear. The boy’s eyes widened, the bulging veins visible.

Reaching for yet another knife beneath her desk and twirling it in her hand, Anna slowly stormed out from behind her desk, a black cloud of anger that stalked towards the gang, like cat ready to pounce on its prey. The boys looked back at her in fear.

“Get. Out.” she said simply, but firmly. An air of dangerous silence settled on the shop. Luka could hear his heart thumping loudly in his chest. The boys hustled out of the shop quickly, not wanting to lose their lives right then and there. He whistled.

“Nice knife throwing skills.”

Anna stuck out her tongue, flinging another knife after the boys in annoyance. It flew straight through the door, through the redhead’s arms, and landed between the bike’s handlebars just as he was getting on. The poor boy jumped back in surprise.

“Eh, you really don’t want to see me with a shotgun, then.”

Luka ended up staying late to help her clean up the shattered ceramic pots, and he was rewarded with a smile. Not one of her sarcastic, sadistic, clever, or apologetic smiles. No, this was a real genuine one, and it made him feel the proudest he’d ever felt. His heart exploded in giddy fireworks. He also received a sprig of canterbury bells (gratitude).

On the fifteenth day, Luka ran into Grandma Margot again on the way to the store. She was carrying a ridiculously large bag of groceries(as usual) and was hobbling her way across the street, holding up the traffic and causing all the cars to begin honking angrily at her. The elderly woman just raised her fist at all the cars and began rapidfire insulting them in Italian. It was really amazing what that old woman was capable of. Rolling his eyes, Luka ran to her and helped her across the intersection.

“Miss Margot, I thought I told you to be more careful when buying groceries.”

“Bah. And I told you to stop being so naggy. Quit nagging me,” she snapped, hobbling up the road just a little faster. Jogging to catch up to her, Luka spotted a familiar building: It was Anna’s place. He spotted her inky hair through the window, caught her eye, and waved. Seeing him, a small smile graced Anna’s face as she raised her hand to wave back, but as her eyes traveled to his side her hand slowly lowered and her face turned sour.

“Don’t associate with her, she’s a demon child,” Margot growled into his ear. Surprised, he turned to face her.

“Who, Anna? She’s really nice, what’s wrong with her?”

Grandma Margot just glared in Anna’s direction, grabbed her groceries, and waddled off towards her apartment. Anna glared right back at her through the window. Pushing open the glass door to the flower shop, Luka kept an eye on Grandma Margot’s rocking form as he made his way over to Anna.

“I swear to God, that old lady is going senile,” she huffed under her breath.

“It’s okay, she’s always kind of crabby with everyone,” Luka reassured her. He could’ve sworn he’d heard her mutter “She’s definitely out to get me,” under her breath, but said nothing while laughing in his head. There wasn’t much to do, Anna told him, and so he mostly spent the day watching her deal with customers and carrying around pots.

Catching her eye as she settled behind the marble desk she always seemed to be at, he made a dumb face at her and she laughed. Writing something down on a piece of notebook paper, she folded it in half and dropped it on his lap as she passed by to help a couple by the sunflowers. Opening the note, Luka squinted at the light handwriting.

If you have time to look like a stupid idiot, you have time to be helping me run the shop, it read. Luka let out a scornful laugh. Crumpling up the paper, he chucked it at Anna’s back. As she turned around to yell at him, he pretended to fall asleep and she sighed in mock disgust.

At the end of the day, Anna came up to him and handed him a beautiful, pristine white flower with intricately placed petals swirled tightly  in the center, then flaring outwards towards the ends. Dark, evergreen leaves decked its thin, twig-like stem.

“Gardenia,” she said curtly. Luka just stared at it when he received it. Silence ensued.

‘What? Is something wrong?”

He sucked in a nervous breath. “Aren’t…aren’t you going to tell me what it means?” More silence ensued. Finally, Anna glared at the floor and quickly spat out, “It conveys joy,” before snatching the flower out of his hand and replacing it with a bright, yellow daffodil.

“You know what? Just take that,” she said before running up the stairs to her room.

Luka asked her father what a gardenia meant. He just smiled sadly and sighed, before telling him that if he told him what it meant his daughter would probably be mad at him. Luka then asked what a daffodil mean, and he replied that it mean rebirth, new beginnings, eternal life, regard, and chivalry. It also meant something that if he told Luka, Anna would kill him.

“It’s strange, though,” the older man said, “that she gave it to you like this. A single daffodil usually foretells a misfortune.”

Trying not to be too put out by that ominous statement, Luka had biked home, staring curiously at the bright flower. His brother finally laughed at him that night when he saw the vase of flowers in Luka’s room, now home to his recently given flowers; a pear blossom(lasting friendship), a dahlia(dignity), an elder flower(compassion), an aster(patience), and a sweet briar rose(simplicity). Marco laughed even louder when Luka placed his fresh daffodil in the vase(because Marco knew so much about flowers, being a gunsmith and all).

*     *     *     *     *

It was on the twenty-sixth day that Luka learned an abundance of things. Anna had been there for nearly a month, and coming to the little flower shop had become routine for him. That day was one of the few days that Anna’ father was present and working at the shop, so he had allowed her some time to just relax while he dealt with the customers himself. They sat outside the shop, the sun shining down on them and a light breeze tousling their hair. They were both quiet. A silence enveloped them, but it was comfortable and warm.

“You know,” Anna rasped softly, gaze flitting between the passerbys and cars as the wind picked up and blew through her sable locks. “It’s really nice to just sit here and talk.”

“Yeah. It sure beats knife throwing,” Luka chuckled. She giggled at his joke, and his chest burst with a heart-wrenching warmth he’d come to know as love. They continued smiling as they watched the cars roll down the dusty road and listened to the sounds of traffic jams birds singing in their trees. Scanning the top of the flat topped building in front of him, Luka wondered for once what was behind it. What kind of lives existed behind those walls? Of course he knew that behind the rooftops just lay another dusty building, and more dusty buildings behind that one. He couldn’t help but wonder if something had changed the night Anna gave him a bright yellow daffodil.

A car honked. Several more followed suit. Her smile fell, which did not go unnoticed by him.

“Hey, hey. What’s wrong?”

She bit her lip and her hands trembled, eyes downcast. “Wait here,” she whispered. Luka stared at the ground, shocked by her drastic change in behavior. The sound of the glass door opening and closing reached his ears. He couldn’t help but wonder if he did something stupid(again). Goosebumps rose along his arms. Something was definitely wrong. He heard the familiar door close behind him. Anna soon reappeared through the glass door with a bundle of flowers in her hands. He shot up and rushed over to her.

“Anna–”

She laughed, cutting him off. Her voice trembled, sounding thick and unnatural.

“Anna, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she hissed through her teeth.

“Anna,” he began, placing his hands on her shoulders and giving them a gentle squeeze.

“What’s–”

“It’s nothing!” She cried. His heart cracked.

“It’s nothing…”

Luka dropped his hands. He felt betrayed that she refused to seek comfort from him.

“Here,” she said, holding out the bouquet of flowers to him. It was full of beautiful, white flowers that hung off their elegantly curved stems like baskets. The petals were twisted in spiral columns, flat at the bottoms but thick and full at the tips, which looked like they were spattered with pink paint. She released the bouquet almost reluctantly.

“Cyclamens. You’ll be needing these soon…” she whispered hesitantly. But he didn’t quite hear her. Instead he noticed something about the bouquet that didn’t fit in. A small yet ominously bright and beautiful flower stood out below the large cyclamens. It was the brightest shade of blue, and the way it almost seemed to be glowing made it almost purple. Anna followed his gaze to the small flower.

“A forget-me-not.”

“What?”

“The flower. It’s called a forget-me-not. I…It reminded me of your eyes.”

He pursed his lips. “What does it mean.”

And just as she opened her mouth to tell him what he thought could probably be the most important thing he would ever hear, his brother just then decided to burst in and yell “Luka!” out at him. His eyebrow twitched.

“Marco, can’t you–”

He froze when he saw the heartbroken look in his brother’s sky blue eyes, his own eyes widening as he took a sharp intake of hot air. A strange sense of fear rooted itself in Luka’s chest and his heart dropped. His brother, eyes downcast, squeezed Luka’s shoulder reassuringly.

“It’s Mr. Emery. He’s dead.”

The trickle of fear then bloomed into full fledged terror. Luka shut his eyes tight, but he kept his mouth shut as if to suppress the burning urge to cry out in anguish, lips pressed so tight they turned white and eyes blinking away the burning tears behind his eyes. His brother took his hand and guided him away from the flower shop, away from Anna. He dropped a small blue flower on the way.

His brother led him to the printing shop, where he had worked for quite a while but now struggled to recognized. The glass to the windows was shattered completely. The green wood outlining the door and the rest of the shop was cracked and splintered, stray sticks of uncolored wood falling to the pavement below. Torn newspapers were scattered everywhere, and blotches of ink covered otherwise clean, bright paper. The mountain of people standing in front of Luka blocked his view, but what he did see made him nauseous. Speckles of blood stood out against the stone pavement, illuminated by the sun’s light. He saw a lump, covered by a dark blanket. Mr. Emery’s square glasses, now bent out of shape and broken, lay next to the lump. Luka choked back a sob. He clenched his fists, tighter and tighter. What did he do to deserve this? Mr. Emery did nothing; he was just a kind, understanding, old man who loved his job with all his heart. He just worked for a newspaper! That’s it! Was that really enough to get him killed, and like this? Luka hear a “snap!” in his hand. Surprised, he looked down to find that the cyclamens Anna had given him were crushed in his hands. He had forgotten they were there. Then he remembered; Anna had never told him what they meant. Studying the elegant petals, he eyes followed the curve of the stem down, down, down, until he reached the heart shaped leaves. A memory sparked in his mind. Anna’s father had explained these to him before.

“These flowers are called cyclamens, normally a winter flower. Beautiful aren’t they? But if you’re looking to give a girl a flower you’d better avoid these.”

“Why?” he had asked.

SIghing, the man had answered, “Because they’re poisonous. They symbolize death. They mean resignation and goodbye, and are normally used for funerals. Gosh, it looks so proud and elegant, but really it’s such a sad flower…”

Luka’s eyes furrowed, dropping the flowers and gasping slightly. He was confused now, as to why Anna would give him these flowers at this exact time.

Her words floated into his mind. “You’ll need these soon…”

He shook his head, slammed his hand into it a few times but they kept on haunting him.

Could it be? No, no, he thought. Could Anna have known that this was going to happen? She couldn’t. Unless she meant something else…

Turning on his heel, he sprinted through the streets, narrowly avoiding cars and nearly taking people out as he rounded corners. Finally, arriving back at the flower shop he slowed down and took a deep breath, shakily exhaling as he stepped towards the shop. Anna wasn’t there anymore, he noticed, so she must be inside. Pushing open the front door, the only thing Luka heard was silence. A gush of stingingly cold air rushed into his face as he walked it. It was noticeably colder inside the shop than outside, and a chill ran down his spine.

Weird, he thought. Anna’ father was supposed to be here.

Turning, he saw three knives embedded into cream-colored wall. The wood flower boxes were splintered, and he knew he had definitely seen this before.

“Anna!” Luka yelled, hurtling up the staircase, a pit settling in his stomach that made him feel slower and heavier. Reaching the second floor, he threw open every door he came across, until he flung one door open only to stumble backwards in surprise. His heart palpitated wildly with the sight in front of him: Scratch marks, from a bladed weapon. Overturned tables. Chunks of wall ripped out and an obvious sign of struggle.

Suddenly, he heard a sound that stopped him in his tracks. The sound sent a shiver down his spine: A hoarse scream, full of terror and the sound of death, and it turned his blood to ice. Eyes widening, Luka raced towards the sound, crashing into the opposing wall and tripping and crawling and groveling towards the door frame. Please, he begged in his mind. Please let it not be Anna. But there she was, and he only had time to watch as a man bludgeoned her in the back of the head with a steel pipe. She fell to the floor with a crack, blood dripping from her nose. Everything after that happened in a blur. He didn’t need to hear what the man said to her while she was gasping in agony, all he needed to see was her pursuer, a dark cloaked man, his skin dried like leather and a sickly color of gray, press the gun between her eyes and fire. Luka’s body ceased to work. . No. No, no, no — “Anna!” He screamed hysterically, his voice cracking with despair as he tripped into the room and collapsed over her lifeless form. The figure stepped closer menacingly. Luka thought he could already feel the cold, icy  hands of death lock around his neck and squeeze the air out of his lungs. Pure terror surged up his veins, shocking his entire body into sporadic racks and shivers and the figure thumped closer. He soon realized that this, this was true despair; the gripping cold, numbing feeling of resignation when the fact that no one is going to save you comes to light, and you are drowning in darkness because you have lost it all and you know it. The dull click of the chamber sliding into place reached his ears, and then– and then nothing. Luka cracked open his eyes to see the last retreating footsteps of the man, who had for some reason chosen to forsake him and not put a bullet through his head. The world seemed silent, Luka’s breathing erratic and his heart thumping wildly in his chest like a jackrabbit. And he stayed like that, sweating and scared in the second floor of an apartment, the last rays of the summer sun dipping beneath the windowsill, the frigid air air enveloping him as if the chill of winter still remained, nearly as cold and lifeless as the dead body of the girl with brilliant black irises sprawled next to him.

Cold rain pelted Luka’s back, the frigid droplets soaking through his black coat and shirt, drenching him and numbing his skin. It did nothing to numb the pain in his chest, though. His shoes drug through the mud as he shakily stumbled towards the cold stone in front of him. Reaching it, he raised his head to the gray sky, and collapsed. His eyes were swollen shut, and he squeezed them tighter as he let loose a guttural scream. The torrential rain spilled down endlessly, like the sky itself were falling. Gripping the muddy grass animalistically, he sobbed uncontrollably, the freezing, pouring rain mixing with his salty tear and falling to the ground together. He could barely feel his fingers, and briefly curled them as to get the blood rushing through them again, turning then to brush them over the dark words engraved in the white granite block as if he could feel them. Standing up, he exhaled softly, his sopping hair falling into his downcast eyes. Dropping a small bouquet of brilliantly blue flowers, too stunning and bright and luminous for the bleak occasion, he turned on his heel and left. And it was like he was drowning in an icy cold river, he thinks…

Forget-me-not (true love)