The Worm Has Turned

No, just scenes. And it keeps me awake while it does this, and I have to write it down. And if I'm LUCKY I'll be finished before I have to leave for work.

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His arms trapped her, crushed her to his body and made her work for breath. His mouth hovered and trembled over her lips so impossibly gently, as soft as his hands were rough. His hand slid up her spine, over the nape of her neck, into her hair. His fingers spread wide to hold her head firm.

He tore off her mouth and pressed his cheek to hers, and in a hoarse, vicious growl of an animal just seconds away from tearing her to pieces, whispered "You have killed me. I loved you the moment they dragged you in here, your soul cried out to me. Those horrible clothes you were wearing, always hiding you were, all your life, hmm? You were in them for what two weeks? Surely since we took over the fortress. Yes, and your ragged hair and the filth from the smoke, hiding all those days. And you stank. A great fire exploded in me, roared in me and consumed in the space of a single look and your soul was a great wave, an icy wave from the deepest of the ocean. It slammed into me and made me burn again. Still I burned, the salt, the freezing cold and my flesh burned and screamed for you and my soul cried out to you."

She trembled with rage at herself as she felt herself breaking apart. Through clenched teeth she growled back at him, she the trapped, thashing animal, "You...are a monster. You are nothing human, you are a sociopath and are incapable of love. You are lying because it amuses you."

His knee jerked up, flat across her body, hard across her hips and thighs. His left hand trailed up over her breast, over the side of her face. Thumb pressed hard under her jaw against the racing pulse of her throat. One finger stroked the tip of her eyebrow so gently and how did the other squeeze her temple so painfully?

"You don't believe that," he said, now his voice a stream of water pouring down from the crown of her head. "You don't believe that, I can feel it." He smiled out of a dream. "No...and now...now you don't want to believe it. Yes, I feel this too." His eyes searched her face, roaming over it. He squinted and his head shook no again, no.

"Can you feel," her voice flat, "that you are hurting me?" She stared at him and now he looked into her eyes and his were glazed, high on the chemicals his own body was pumping out. "I can barely breath. I'll have your fingerprints on me for days."

"Hurting you?" He was suddenly drained she felt his whole body relax, and tears, tears welled up in his eyes grey as slate, harsh as storm clouds and the clouds broke and the tears coursed down his face and dropped against the skin at the base of her throat. "No, I...yes. I am." Realization broke over face. He whispered, "I wanted to."

"Let go of me."

"I..don't know how." He began to tremble.

"Get off of me!" she screamed.

He shoved off her, nearly leaping off the bed and stumbling backward. He legs slipped and his head slammed into the floor. He groaned and rolled to his side, breathing hard.

She sat up. Slowly rising, pushing up off the bed. She took great slow lungfuls of air. He was trying to get up, up on one knee and his leg pushing out, steadying himself with one hand. He reached and dragged a padded foot stool close to him, leaned on it.

She felt fragile. Empty. Cold and lighter than air, she would crumble into dust and blow away in mere seconds unless she got off this bed. She swung her legs off and found her feet, her legs shook beneath her as she took the three steps painfully slow steps between them. She stood above him, swaying, hands clenching and unclenching, staring down at him.

He looked up at her and his hair fell away. He looked into her face, terrified he looked into a mask of death and but for her green eyes burning cold, as the coldest deep of the earth beneath a winter field. His heart cried out his doom, it tore and felt the great gash form and wanted to scream in anguish.

She looked down at him. She felt nothing. There was nothing, he was wrong. Of course he lied. Didn't he? She watched the blood pumping at his temple, just beneath his hair but she could see it with his head hanging back like that.

She raised her hand. It was steady, her left hand steady and she fingertips grazed his temple. The faintest touch but she could feel the throbbing, raging beat.

His hands hand crept towards her one and now he grasped it and begging for her touch pressed his face to it, slick with sweat and tears. A single ragged sob tore from him.

And his raging flames leaped from him and into her, from his blood and through his skin exploding into her, a great ball of hells fire and she could smell the burning. The smoked filled her nose and her whole body gasped as if she had been suffocating for an eternity and was suddenly alive, waking from a nightmare. His fire had consumed her, how could she still be alive?

He reached out and grabbed the folds of her dress at her thighs. Her knees broke and she collapsed, her legs pushed off to one side. His hands jerked back, afraid he had somehow made it happen.

She sat, numb, looking into his eyes. Waiting.

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One part of me thinks this is pretty damn good writing.

Another part of me is nauseated at the pathetic cliche of the bad man still being able to love just one women. So...mundane and common.

That cliche is a fantasy, it does not exist. Evil men are simply evil and I should not even entertain the fantasy they are anything else. If I want a real, flesh and blood man...because Christ, how long am I going to have to go without sex, real sex, the kind I need? Years? Forever? Please, if there is a god don't do that to me, I really need some damn sex! If I want to create the energy that will bring a man into my life, a man to match me, I need to stop scribbling about people who have no basis in reality.

It's unhealthy.

Now. I really have to get ready for work. It's -2 with the windchill, I need to find some layers.

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{{-Learn from the Past ~ Look into the Future-}}

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