Chapter 33

Beggar

My fingers start to go over his battle scars, because that's what they are.

Zero is a soldier,

a hero.

His healed wounds are a myriad of memories, a reminder of what he endured for his country, for millions of people.

My scars are for one, just one.

My fingers dig in when I feel a knot on his lower spine.

I close my hand into a tight fist then work his muscles with my knuckles losing myself in the process.

My mother taught me how to massage.

She was good at it, and insisted I learnt at least one thing from her.

Time goes and my hands are red from over usage.

It could be an hour or more I'm not sure.

I'm just lost in the feel of his now heated skin under my fingers and knuckles and the human contact I've allowed myself.

I don’t think of anything but my knuckles digging in this man's flesh.

I should’ve paid more attention. The stiff posture of his shoulders, the heat coming from his skin. I should've understood the charge in the air but I didn't.

My hand