She

[Miral]

She stood in the doorway, tears refusing to remain restrained. Clothes refusing to remain bundled in her grasp. Her knees were wobbly and her eyes stung. The smell of anger hot in her room. It smelled like Polo. Her body leaned against the doorjamb. Her hands rose to her face as a sob racked her chest. She wanted to scream, sob, laugh and vomit all at the same time. He was gone. And, yet, he wasn't. He was still here. A presence that wouldn't leave her alone.

Her clothes fell to the floor in a soft shushing sound. Wripped to shreds. A pile of hatred and lust. She kicked at it with her heel and groaned. Her door swung shut, slamming her clothes out in the hall. A long breath escaped as she stood with her back to the door. Minutes, maybe hours went by. She could feel the cold eye of a pain of quicksilver glass behind her.
She leaned her head to the side resting her head on her bare shoulder. Her eyes looked down and the presence of a round, full, milky white breast met her gaze. Marred. A tear streaked down her cheek. Around her nipple a distinctive, recognizable mark. He had drawn blood. Scarred her this time. With his teeth. For the last time.

A throbbing pain, but it came from more than one place. She closed her eyes, squeezed them shut. And slowly turned. The eye of quicksilver fully upon her. Glaring. She opened her eyes, but they opened wider. Her mouth a perfect O. Her eyes stark against the dark red of blood. White. Emerald. Red.

No sound came. She couldn't scream, she couldn't even speak. Her right breast was the only place saved from a bite, blood or a bruise. She touched it for a moment. And another sob escaped. Her naked body looked like a battleground. Her once white garter and stockings, red.

Her strawberry hair was matted to her face and neck. So dark. She pulled the garter down and started to cry uncontrollably. Her stockings rolling down her legs. Her mind raced. She couldn't understand what was going on. She stumbled her way into the bathroom and began to fill her tub. The water steaming into her face.

[This message has been edited by Miral (edited May 18, 2000).]

[LAMECH]

I hope you plan to continue this. It sounds like the start of a good drama/thriller. And if you write it I will read it!

[Branflakes]

Really good, Miral. I'll read it if there's more to come.

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Branflakes, the ninja lesbian milk getter.
The one called "brain".
Should today be more like tomorrow?
Where is my strength, compared to yours?
"See that star...the one shining brighter than all the others? I know the girl who hung it there."

[Miral]

She watched the tub fill. Water that was clean, pure...innocent. She leaned over the tub and a drop of crimson splashed into the water. Fresh and bright and stark against the white porcelein. Diffusion or osmosis. She couldn't remember so she just watched that drop disappear.

She swirled her hand in the water and cringed as it turned red. She climbed in slowly. The water turning murky with blood. She popped the plug and let the water drain. She remained seated. Watching. Her hand was on the faucet before she realized what she was doing. She plugged the tub and it filled again. A rag appeared in her hand and a bar of soap.

She lathered the rag really good. The bar of soap only a sliver when she was done. As she washed heerself she savored the sting of the soap in her wounds. She was not dead. The pain told her that. Twice that night though, she had thought she was.

He had fucked her over this time, in every meaning of the word. Planted his seed. Beat her within death's reach. Stole from her. Her mind raced in time with the beat of her heart. She stopped washing herself and stepped out of the tub. Pale. Her wounds oozed. Still too fresh to stop bleeding. The image in the mirror was frightening. Her eyes wild and her lips quivering. She ripped the first aid kit from the wall. The contents skittered across the floor.

She dressed her wounds. The ones she could reach.

She hurried into her bedroom to dress herself. She dug through her underwear drawer. Too many thongs, too much lace. Cotton. She found a pair of white cotton panties and smiled. Almost laughed as she hurriedly tugged them on. When she had them on she felt a phantom hand tug on the crotch of them. She moaned and a sob escaped. He had punched her and when she came to he was undressing her. Ripping her clothes off. She had screamed. He had slapped her. She had stopped screaming.

[AsIs]

Intriging Miral, look forward to more

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- "How do you know the chosen ones? No greater love hath a man than he lay down his life for his friend. Not for millions, not for glory, not for fame... for one person. In the dark. Where no one will ever know or see." - Sebastion, Babylon 5
- INDECISION is the key to FLEXIBILITY.

[neomel]

interesting for sure ...

the mel

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i dont suffer from insanity i enjoy every minute of it

do not fear your enemies . the worst they can do is kill you . do not fear friends . at worst they may betray you . fear those who do not care ; they neither kill nor betray but betrayal and murder exist because of thier silent consent .

[Miral]

I've finished the story, but I'm afraid to post the whole thing. I don't want to offend anyone if they think it's too graphic. And I don't want hostboard to get mad...what should I do?

[Ski]

Damn the torpedos!!!!!!! POST , POST POST!!!!!!

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Ski
Last of the Freelance Drinkers
Greatest sword fighter in Michigan
The man in the black Trans Am
Miral's Slave

[Miral]

I'll post it tonight

(flood control!! what the hell?) *sigh* I'm just too quick

[Branflakes]

Please post it, Miral. (and really, there's lots of graphic stuff out there, at least yours is good)

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Branflakes, the ninja lesbian milk getter.
The one called "brain" and "brainflakes" and....
"Please, kiss me before I die." - Francine, SIP

"Medical stuff below... Hope y're not squeamish. Having said that, it's not so bad. Nothing compared to "She Thinks..." ! "--Ersby

I'm tired of the silent majority. Silence equals death.