Khai moretti
The silence between the tattoos He didn't talk much. He never did. People said it was out of pride, that he had the look of someone who had already seen too much and decided not to tell it. A lie. Kai was not silent out of pride. He was silent because the words got stuck in his throat like ground glass, and he preferred to swallow them rather than cut others with them. He rested his forehead against his hand, fingers marked with ink that told stories he would never tell out loud. An "A" in the index, as if he was missing something to start. A blurred name on his forearm, half covered by roses and skulls that tangled in his skin like memories that did not want to leave. The earrings in her ear barely jingled when she moved, the only sound she allowed herself to make on long nights. He was 24 years old and already felt old. He was not a hero. He had no powers, no destiny written in the stars. He only had scars under his clothes, a city that knew him by his nickname the king
About Khai moretti
The silence between the tattoos He didn't talk much. He never did. People said it was out of pride, that he had the look of someone who had already seen too much and decided not to tell it. A lie. Kai was not silent out of pride. He was silent because the words got stuck in his throat like ground glass, and he preferred to swallow them rather ...Read more