Post by lix on Oct 17, 2005 23:10:45 GMT -5
[warning...it's a little bit R in the beginning..]
There was a man. Or it might have been a man; it could have been anyone. It was dark, so dark; there was no moon to ease the burden of darkness. She could smell him, the stench of fire, smoldering ashes, charred skin. She could smell the excitement in him. He wasn't all that bad-looking. Her eyes were half-lidded as he slid his hand up her thigh; a small twitch of the lips, a small smirk was the only hint of her interest. She couldn't see what she was wearing; couldn't look anywhere but at her fingernails. Bella cringed; she abhorred pink. Especially the hot pink that currently adorned her fingernails. She returned her attention to the lustful stranger. He was almost horny enough. He pushed her up against the brick wall; the bricks scratched at her skin, clung to her jacket. Or maybe it was a sweater; she couldn't tell. Didn't care. She inhaled, excited. He was tugging at her skirt, trying to rip it off and pull it down at the same time; it wasn't really working. That was when the air changed. She could feel the fire in her eyes, in him; saw him stumble back, right himself.
"You want it," she said, whispering, lifting her chin haughtily; she liked being in control. His eyes were green. Green like emeralds. "You want me." She was gonna bring him to his knees, make him beg for it.
"No," he said, his voice hard, his eyes looking delighted. Something in his voice made her pause. It was curious. He didn't want her? She didn't let her confusion show through; she would bait it out of him.
"You don't want me?" she asked innocently, her hands running up his pants, to his belt, loosening it up. "Now that doesn't really make any sen--"
"You want me," he said, cutting her off, looking triumphant and sick at the same time. He wore a smirk; it looked evil, like he was going to rape her. She liked it, tilted her head just a bit. He slid his hand up her shirt, traced underneath her bra; she didn't bother protesting, realizing how right he was. He pressed himself closer to her. He slid his hand around to the back of her head; he gripped her hair and forced her down, digging his fingernails into the soft flesh of her shoulder. She gasped with pain; made a strangled sound. He was sneering now.
"You want me." Bella hated being dominated--normally. Something about him...he was going to have her, she knew that. He knew she knew. And she wanted it.
"You want me," he said again. He gripped her chin with two fingers, then jerked her head from side to side. "Close your eyes," he hissed; his tongue was long and red, like a snake's--it flicked against her cheek. She closed her eyes, fully ready for whatever he wanted to do to her. "Open your eyes," he murmured, tracing the thin line of muscle that went from her neck to her collar bone. She opened her eyes.
Bella woke up screaming for the sixth time in two days. Panting, soaked with sweat, wild-eyed, she fell out of the bed and hit the floor hard, making a resounding crack as her wrist connected with the wood. She flattened herself against the cedar wood floor, gasping, shivering uncontrollably. She curled into a ball, pulling herself as tightly together as possible, trembling from exhaustion and shock. It was dark, so dark. She had no idea where she was. She closed her eyes; maybe it was a nightmare, a dream, and she'd wake up any minute now..after what seemed like hours, she quieted and began to breathe more steadily. The eyes..she shivered, again uncontrollably. She couldn't stop; she felt like she was about to piss her panties. She moaned softly.
"Oh my God." She clutched her wrist; broken. It must be, it wouldn't be bent so oddly if it weren't broken. Besides, the bone wouldn't be sticking out of her skin if it wasn't broken. She knew she was in shock. She shut her eyes. And saw them again.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" She jumped up and ran, ran away from the bed, ran to the nearest door she saw. Which led to the hallway. She fell to her knees, blinded by the light of the hall, terrified and confused. Where the hell am I? She peered blearily back into the room she'd just come from. Of course. She shook her head; the others had kicked her out after she woke up screaming the second time. They'd refused to let her wake them up a second time. And so she'd sought refuge in the Room of Requirement. Unfortunately it hadn't prevented her nightmares. And now her wrist was broken. shit.
Shaking her head, she pulled herself back into the room, shut her eyes firmly. "I need medicine," she half-whispered, half-chanted. "Fix my broken arm, fix my broken arm, fix my broken--" She heard a sound and looked up; a vial of potion was sitting on a table. She fell upon it. Stop the pain, she begged as she drank it, gagging on the taste. Please. She gulped a shallow breath of air; collapsed back on the bed. She shivered again, pulled the covers over her body. She drifted in and out of strange dreams, dreams that were bad, good, and somewhere in between. But the eyes haunted her in every dream; they were the last thing she saw when she woke up. Red slits; evil.
Bella rolled over, touched her shoulder where the man had dug his fingernails into her skin. She imagined feeling the grooves, imagined opening her eyes once more to see his snake-like face; he was a man of great power, that much was certain. In one of her first dreams of him, she had wanted to please him; wanted to give him whatever he wanted. She had reveled in being his slave. In the present, she shook her head angrily. He had been somewhat attractive, certainly, but not nearly as attractive as one would have to be to make her grovel at any man's feet. He must be significant, she mused. No man, young or old, would be weak if he were to command me, in my dreams or no. She remembered her arm, and glanced at it; it was almost healed. The skin was still red, sore and tender and bloody. She winced; it looked worse than it felt, but no matter. A sound at the door made her turn. Her eyes narrowed, her breathing alter, quicken. It couldn't be him, she thought wildly. He is--was a dream, nothing more than a dream...and yet, what student would be in need of a bedroom this late at night? she wondered, growing apprehensive. She buried herself under the covers, watching, waiting to see who would come in.
[anyone?]
There was a man. Or it might have been a man; it could have been anyone. It was dark, so dark; there was no moon to ease the burden of darkness. She could smell him, the stench of fire, smoldering ashes, charred skin. She could smell the excitement in him. He wasn't all that bad-looking. Her eyes were half-lidded as he slid his hand up her thigh; a small twitch of the lips, a small smirk was the only hint of her interest. She couldn't see what she was wearing; couldn't look anywhere but at her fingernails. Bella cringed; she abhorred pink. Especially the hot pink that currently adorned her fingernails. She returned her attention to the lustful stranger. He was almost horny enough. He pushed her up against the brick wall; the bricks scratched at her skin, clung to her jacket. Or maybe it was a sweater; she couldn't tell. Didn't care. She inhaled, excited. He was tugging at her skirt, trying to rip it off and pull it down at the same time; it wasn't really working. That was when the air changed. She could feel the fire in her eyes, in him; saw him stumble back, right himself.
"You want it," she said, whispering, lifting her chin haughtily; she liked being in control. His eyes were green. Green like emeralds. "You want me." She was gonna bring him to his knees, make him beg for it.
"No," he said, his voice hard, his eyes looking delighted. Something in his voice made her pause. It was curious. He didn't want her? She didn't let her confusion show through; she would bait it out of him.
"You don't want me?" she asked innocently, her hands running up his pants, to his belt, loosening it up. "Now that doesn't really make any sen--"
"You want me," he said, cutting her off, looking triumphant and sick at the same time. He wore a smirk; it looked evil, like he was going to rape her. She liked it, tilted her head just a bit. He slid his hand up her shirt, traced underneath her bra; she didn't bother protesting, realizing how right he was. He pressed himself closer to her. He slid his hand around to the back of her head; he gripped her hair and forced her down, digging his fingernails into the soft flesh of her shoulder. She gasped with pain; made a strangled sound. He was sneering now.
"You want me." Bella hated being dominated--normally. Something about him...he was going to have her, she knew that. He knew she knew. And she wanted it.
"You want me," he said again. He gripped her chin with two fingers, then jerked her head from side to side. "Close your eyes," he hissed; his tongue was long and red, like a snake's--it flicked against her cheek. She closed her eyes, fully ready for whatever he wanted to do to her. "Open your eyes," he murmured, tracing the thin line of muscle that went from her neck to her collar bone. She opened her eyes.
***
Bella woke up screaming for the sixth time in two days. Panting, soaked with sweat, wild-eyed, she fell out of the bed and hit the floor hard, making a resounding crack as her wrist connected with the wood. She flattened herself against the cedar wood floor, gasping, shivering uncontrollably. She curled into a ball, pulling herself as tightly together as possible, trembling from exhaustion and shock. It was dark, so dark. She had no idea where she was. She closed her eyes; maybe it was a nightmare, a dream, and she'd wake up any minute now..after what seemed like hours, she quieted and began to breathe more steadily. The eyes..she shivered, again uncontrollably. She couldn't stop; she felt like she was about to piss her panties. She moaned softly.
"Oh my God." She clutched her wrist; broken. It must be, it wouldn't be bent so oddly if it weren't broken. Besides, the bone wouldn't be sticking out of her skin if it wasn't broken. She knew she was in shock. She shut her eyes. And saw them again.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" She jumped up and ran, ran away from the bed, ran to the nearest door she saw. Which led to the hallway. She fell to her knees, blinded by the light of the hall, terrified and confused. Where the hell am I? She peered blearily back into the room she'd just come from. Of course. She shook her head; the others had kicked her out after she woke up screaming the second time. They'd refused to let her wake them up a second time. And so she'd sought refuge in the Room of Requirement. Unfortunately it hadn't prevented her nightmares. And now her wrist was broken. shit.
Shaking her head, she pulled herself back into the room, shut her eyes firmly. "I need medicine," she half-whispered, half-chanted. "Fix my broken arm, fix my broken arm, fix my broken--" She heard a sound and looked up; a vial of potion was sitting on a table. She fell upon it. Stop the pain, she begged as she drank it, gagging on the taste. Please. She gulped a shallow breath of air; collapsed back on the bed. She shivered again, pulled the covers over her body. She drifted in and out of strange dreams, dreams that were bad, good, and somewhere in between. But the eyes haunted her in every dream; they were the last thing she saw when she woke up. Red slits; evil.
Bella rolled over, touched her shoulder where the man had dug his fingernails into her skin. She imagined feeling the grooves, imagined opening her eyes once more to see his snake-like face; he was a man of great power, that much was certain. In one of her first dreams of him, she had wanted to please him; wanted to give him whatever he wanted. She had reveled in being his slave. In the present, she shook her head angrily. He had been somewhat attractive, certainly, but not nearly as attractive as one would have to be to make her grovel at any man's feet. He must be significant, she mused. No man, young or old, would be weak if he were to command me, in my dreams or no. She remembered her arm, and glanced at it; it was almost healed. The skin was still red, sore and tender and bloody. She winced; it looked worse than it felt, but no matter. A sound at the door made her turn. Her eyes narrowed, her breathing alter, quicken. It couldn't be him, she thought wildly. He is--was a dream, nothing more than a dream...and yet, what student would be in need of a bedroom this late at night? she wondered, growing apprehensive. She buried herself under the covers, watching, waiting to see who would come in.
[anyone?]