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He touched the back of her hand. Her pretty palms pressed against a jagged rock. Ocean waves, waiving their right to be still by allowing themselves to be manipulated by the spawn of wind and gravity. She never looked at him, only stared; not even into the ocean. She was far past that. “Are you scared?” He asked the average looking girl with the exceptional eyes. A wave hit the rock she sat on, but she didn’t flinch. A calm breeze through her hair, unmoved by the forces of Mother Nature. “Scared of what?” He glanced at the ocean nervously then back at the girl again. His palm still covering the back of her knuckles as if he was protecting something he knew nothing of. “The ocean.” The boy whispered. “Why would I be scared of the ocean?” Now she faced the boy, wet lips and dry hair flirting with her cheekbones and pale-ish blue skin. The white waves of the ocean had nothing on her own that danced on the top of her head. The boy let go of the back of her hand, almost in resentment. “Yeah, right! You would never jump in! You’re scared!” The girl turned her face, confronting the ocean with her eyes and closed them. Her skin turned translucent like a bottom feeder fish and her bones cracked through her legs like they were praying to the ocean air. Fish like fangs broke through her jaw, creating a face like a painting from Picasso. Her hair melted into her skin like veins as she slowly turned to the horrified boy. “Sometimes we're scared of what we are,” as she slipped into the ocean and allowed the waves to swallow her whole.
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