FictionPress.com - let the words flow| FictionPress.com - let the words flow |
| Home Just In Communities Forums Beta Readers Dictionary Search | Login Register Extras |
Is It Progression…?
Maybe you're the one that's overrated.
Shriek and scream much too horrified to speak.
Out of tune this tale of terror.
The solemn tolling of the funeral bells.
I want to know what's going on in that pretty little head of yours
where every day's a Bone Palace Ballet.
Oh, she was the last person in the world who would allow herself to be led. She was independent. She had her own home, her own business, her own studies…but he, oh, he’d somehow gotten under her skin and had her wrapped around his pinky finger.
It would explain why she was following him so willingly, even though her mind was screaming at her to yank away, to run.
But her body unconsciously knew what was coming and the events to come were exactly what it had been dreading. Her heart quickened, her steps quickened, her very thoughts quickened the moment his steps became more eager, more urgent. She began to gnaw at her bottom lip, scared, frightened, excited.
“Where are we going?” she finally asked, ripping her stare from the back of his head. He was so handsome; she would admit that, with his dark blonde hair and those midnight eyes. Those hollow midnight blue eyes that seemed never ending and so…dead. Ah, he couldn’t be dead; she knew that for sure. His pulse was always so strong, his skin always so warm…
“Sh, you’ll see.” His answer was vague. It wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to know where they were going, why they were going, when they would get there! It was her nature, sure, but…
A sharp yank of her wrist caused her to hiss painfully as she felt her ligaments stretch, and then snap right back into place. “Be careful, would you?” He didn’t reply, no, this time his pace had quickened even more. They had to be close, they had to be. Her throat tightened with the possibility of what to come and she was ready to cry. Why had she gotten involved with him in the first place?
It had been because he, an undeniably gorgeous man, had taken interest in her. An overly independent girl who didn’t consider herself to be the least bit pretty. But he had and he’d begun to talk to her, to call her, to let her know he liked her. She’d been flattered, completely flattered, and she’d let herself become sucked into it all.
Then, he began to ask more of her. To cut herself—not much, just a tad, just enough for a drop or two of blood. He’d ask for some hair, an old item of clothing. Then, he’d ask her to go with him. She could feel her conscious digging at her, telling her how suspicious this was, how dangerous this was.
She brushed it off. She started going with him. She learned the chants, the incantations, the dances, the dialect. She became one of them and suddenly, he wanted to see her even more. He’d begun to whisper those sweet nothings in her ear, the things she had always wanted to hear. He’d buy her dinner, a pearl necklace, a diamond ring…but only if she’d continue to go with him.
She went with him, day after day, becoming one. Becoming something she’d never let herself think about becoming. She let herself become immersed in the activity, but only for him. Only for him. He was the only one she trusted. She would see him kissing the other women, touching them. She could hear them in the room next to theirs, but she’d trust him. He’ll come back. He loves me.
Until tonight. Tonight had been too much.
Tonight, she had snapped. That independent woman she had been showed itself and she’d burst into the other room, voice loud and eyes livid. How DARE he cheat on her so blatantly? How DARE he treat her like scum? She wanted answers!
Her answer was him getting up, leaving the pretty blonde on the chair where they had been. Her answer was him grabbing her by the wrist and yanking her along after him.
Which brought her back to the present. He had stopped and had opened a door, a door she’d never seen before. Immediately, her breath hitched as he shoved her inside and locked the door. “Get over there.” He pointed to the darkest corner of the room and the dread began to fill her. She went.
In the moonlight, she could see his silhouette, his shape, as he quietly made his way to the window and yanked the curtains shut. What was this? What was he doing? She swallowed hard and wrapped her arms tightly around her body. Where was he? She was blind in this darkness. But so was he, right? Right. She could feel his presence though, stalking her in the darkness as she took a tentative step forward. Where was he? Why was he doing this? Was he going to kill her?
The sudden revelation caught her off guard and she whimpered, panic seizing her as she blindly turned completely around and bolted. She had to find a wall. If she could find a wall, she could find her way out of here. But where was he? “You really shouldn’t run, my dear.” His voice sliced through the darkness and she froze, breathing heavily. “I really didn’t want to hurt you. I love you.”
I love you.
What a gentleman, what a doll. She didn’t want to speak, she couldn’t. He’d find her, he’d grab her, he’d kill her. Perhaps, if she was quiet enough, she could hear his footsteps coming toward her. But first, first she needed to calm down, to think. She had a head on her shoulders. She knew how to behave rationally. But this wasn’t rational. This wasn’t your average every day situation.
This was life and death.
If she made the wrong choice, she’d die. But if she made the right choice… “What do you want from me?” Her voice sounded stronger than she felt. She knew it. The only thing she could hear was her heart sending blood and adrenaline through her veins. She felt like a trapped animal, in the pitch black. Her eyes had adjusted, but that wasn’t enough. There was no light.
She felt dead.
“What do I want, sweetie? We all know what you are, don’t we?” He sounded closer. “A beautiful girl, a horrible world. What I want is to get rid of you.” He chuckled, manically, and she stepped forward. He couldn’t want to kill her! Why, why would he do that? Her breathing became shallow with fear. “Don’t be upset, sweetie. I’m only doing this because I love you.”
His words were like a whisper into her ear. He was…? She felt his hands wrap around her arm and an involuntary scream issued from her lungs. The scream of a scared woman. A frightened woman. A terrified woman.
“Shut up!” He hissed, using a hand to pull her by the jaw. “Be quiet. The more you struggle, the more you scream, the worse this is going to be. Do you understand me?” She nodded. “I want to hear you. Do you understand me?”
“Yes.” She whispered and she could feel him pressing against her, pushing her. Pushing her until she was secure against the wall. A cold, hard, wall. She swallowed as she felt his lips press against her cheek, her lips, her neck.
“You’re such a beautiful girl.” He murmured. “This is such a pity, such…such a shame.” She felt a tear fall from her eye and trail down her cheek, before pooling at her jaw. This was so, so random. So terrible. Out of tune? Yes. Out of tune. This entire meeting was out of tune with her life.
Her life.
The sudden realization that she might not survive this night suddenly made itself clear and she began to struggle, moaning and groaning against his weight. But he was stronger and he stopped the molestation of her face by pressing his forearm across her throat, which made her stop. “Oh, sweetie,” he purred, next to her ear, “You really do deserve this, you realize that, don’t you?” He chuckled softly and his arm moved from her throat and she gulped down mouthfuls of musty air. She felt his weight shift and suddenly, suddenly there was something cold, something hard, something unnatural pressed against her belly. “You won’t have long to live. Maybe half an hour. At most.” He whispered. “But I do want you do remember, sweetie, that I’m only doing this because I love you. Imagine this as progressions. It is only progression if you allow it to be.”
She whimpered again, squeezing her eyes shut, dreading the moment the bullet would rip through her clothing, her stomach, her back. “I’m sorry, I—“
“Will you allow it to be progression, sweetie?” His voice was taunting, daring her to tell him differently. “What was it you once asked me? ‘Is it only progression if I allow it to be?’ Remember that? The first meeting you went to. I’ve always wanted to know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, sweetie.” She frowned, but she remembered exactly what he’d been talking about. She remembered the looks she’d received when she’d voice the question, the disappointed look she’d gotten from him. She nodded and the metal was shoved deeper into her skin. “I love you.” His lips pressed against hers and the trigger was pulled.
But there was no sound, he wasn’t stupid. She crumpled to the floor, in pain, and silently began to curse him. Thirty minutes, he said? Her body was pulsing with pain, every breath, every involuntary movement…the end wouldn’t come soon enough. She began to cry, to sob, to wail. How could he? How could this be love? What was love? Was she going to die without love?
Her mind began to drift back to before, when she’d been the only one. Was she the only one? Had there been someone else?
He’d been such a gentleman, opening the door, walking by the street, buying her roses and chocolates. They’d been together for two years. They were star crossed lovers. They were on the extreme end, of course. He’d shot her. What were the chances of someone coming in here and saving her? Slim to none, she realized, as she laid on the floor.
This was a death sentence, which was the only reason why he’d done it. She chuckled morbidly and rolled onto her side, clutching her bleeding belly and she chuckled. She chuckled and sobbed, in pain, in confusion, in hatred. How many other women, men even, had died in here? Oh, how she wished she could go warn that little lover of his, who was kissing his face minutes before.
Suddenly, everything began to feel slower. Her lungs couldn’t get enough air, her tears seemed slower, her throat began to close. Was it time, already?
Reality hit her, hard, as she laid on the floor. He’d shot her.
He’d left her here to die. He was the one who was overrated, she realized. She hoped that girl realized that, that he wasn’t good enough, he wasn’t what she’d expected.
But then, her breaths became shakier, her eyelids grew heavier and there was light. So much light…
The light didn’t ruin her hearing though. No, as death wrapped its claws around her, she could hear one specific thing that made her want to scream, that made her want to run, that made her panic.
The tolling of a funeral bell.
Enjoy.
