Flying without Wings

She could pretend she was okay, but she couldn't run away. She couldn't run away from him, or from the memories he'd left. She couldn't run away from the dark icy waters of fear that rushed over her and drowned her when she closed her eyes. She couldn't force herself to forget what he did to her, what she couldn't protect herself from. When she closed her eyes, he was there; when she looked in the mirror, he was there; when she dreamt, he was there.

She would scream, she would fight, she would shove him away, but in the end he would overwhelm her and when her strength failed, she would give in. He would win, because he always won. He would break her, because she was easy. And then she would wake up, sweating and shaking, salty rivers of tears splashing down her feverish flushed cheeks, streaming black mascara down her face, and soaking into her thin clothes. There would be no one to hold her, no one to comfort her, no one to assure her that everything would be okay. And she would fall back to restless sleep which sapped her strength and left her more exhausted when morning came. She had let him get to her. She had let him take over ever area of her life, and she felt like he'd left her stranded in a proverbial whirlpool. She'd given him everything. Everything she had. Everything she would ever have. Everything she knew.

He'd promised she could trust him. And naively, she had.

She could see him now. Cold clear eyes, a wry wolfish smirk, and an unfamiliar five o' clock shadow. She felt shivers like electric currents shoot through her veins and she gazed at the floors as if they were the most magnificent things she'd ever seen. She could feel his presence grow stronger as the smell of lavender and expensive cologne became more prominent, invading her nostrils and dancing over her skin. Hungry eyes trailed over her body. A frozen smile chilled the warmth in the room, making her sweat.

"Hey, brown eyes..." he smirked, his low velvety voice quickening her pulse and laboring her breathing. Her throat constricted and she smiled demurely at him, amazed at how cool and collected he appeared, leaning against the door frame whilst a battle of emotions and hormones raged inside of her. She could feel the air in the room thinning, the tension in the atmosphere becoming more palpable, and she knew what was going to happen. His eyes told her, but she didn't prevent it, and when she realized her mistake it was too late.

Hard lips crashed into hers and a foreign tongue forced its way into her mouth, squeezing the life out of her chest. She screamed, and she fought, and she kicked, but he was too strong for her, and she felt the air slowly leaving her body. Her lungs felt as if they would burst. Tears gushed from her brown eyes and she pleaded with him to stop, and that she didn't want this; she wasn't ready. But he didn't stop. He wouldn't listen. And he kept telling her that she didn't know what she wanted and that he was doing her a favor.

She felt dirty and violated and weak, but she couldn't defeat the force that suppressed her. She dug her sharp nails into his flesh and tried to push him off, but was bigger and heavier.

Slowly, steadily, she felt herself giving up, the life being poured out of her frail body, and things began to seem fuzzy. She felt like she was slipping away, somewhere far away. Calloused hands gripped her body so hard that she thought she would snap and one last time she let out a deafening scream, her throat closing. She felt a sharp pain in her temple, and then she tasted blood.

The room turned black.

Author's Note: This is a little more somber than the other one-shots I've written in the past and I'm not sure if I'm completely satisfied with it, but I wanted to post it anyway. I promised I'd post something and while this isn't what I had in mind when I said that, I hope you enjoyed this when you read it. If you didn't, please say so and why in your review. I love feedback, any type of feedback so don't be shy to point out mistakes or something you didn't like about the story. I've reread and reread this a hundred times so I hope you enjoyed it when you read it. Thanks for taking the time to read this whether you liked it or not.

Lacy