I really don't know where this came from but I blame Recoilandgrace
For making me all angsty and suchwith her brilliance. Yup, I said it.
So , I don't know quite where this is going yet but I had this image stuck in my head and I had to get it out. This is dark and angsty. Let me know if you think I should keep going. There is no outright smuttiness but I have rated it M for the implications.
Once again, fox sucks. They don't deserve a disclaimer.
Gillian fingered the edges of the rip in her blouse. It wasn't so bad. The tear was straight and clean and she could mend it if she tried. She ran the tip of her finger over the exposed threads and winced as she once again felt the strong hands that had gripped the material, clinging to it until the silken strands could no longer hold together.
She was glad it was so late. She could go straight down the hall and straight to her car and no one would see. Thank god she had driven today rather than hop the metro. Although if it weren't for the state of her blouse she would have relished the numbing sound of the train as it clacked along the tracks and the gentle soothing rocking of the car. She was afraid to be alone with her thoughts for the drive home. She didn't want to think about what would come next.
She wanted a shower. She had cleaned up as best she could…after. But she still felt the sticky wetness on her thighs and she could smell him everywhere on her. Not that his smell was unpleasant but she didn't want to be reminded right now. Not after…
She looked at herself in the mirror. She had wiped the dark imprint of her mascara from beneath her eyes but she was still blotchy, and there was no remedy but time for the swelling of her lips which still carried the memory of each gentle brush of his mouth against her, each brutal assault. Her neck felt sore and her shoulder gently throbbed where he had…She shook herself and looked closely at her neck. It was red certainly, but she hoped the redness would not turn to bruises. If it did, surely she could hide it.
She smiled at herself in the glass, testing her mask. The men in her life had made her an expert at smiling through the pain, such an expert that she almost believed it herself. No one would notice that the smile didn't really reach her eyes. Well, no one who didn't know why, at least, no one who hadn't perfected his own mask years ago.
She backed away slowly, letting the mask fall. If she just put one foot in front of the other it would be alright. She cursed the trembling in her legs and the soreness between her thighs that refused to let her forget, made her mind flicker with sharp images that made her steps falter and her heart skip. She had to swallow the groan of self loathing that rose involuntarily in her throat.
She didn't want to go into her office. Not tonight, not after…. But there was no escape. Her purse was beneath her desk. If only she had an extra key to her car. Her office glowed as the solitary light in the hallway. His was dark, she had made sure to check, after... She tried to focus on her desk, keep her eyes firmly glued to that single safe place. She would have to face it tomorrow and the next day and every day after but tonight she didn't have the heart, not after…
Despite her best efforts, her eyes caught on a hint of red and black that didn't belong, poking out from between the cushions of her couch. Damn. She'd wondered about that. Steeling herself, she turned to the couch and felt her breathing hitch as she knew it would, felt the tears against her lower lids predictably. She quickly gathered the lacy scrap of fabric that had formerly been her underwear and tucked it into her purse. She wanted to throw them away but they had a cleaning service and, well, people talked.
She took one last glance around the room through tear blurred vision, making sure as best she could that nothing else was dreadfully out of place, nothing else was a tell tale sign. Her desk was clean, the pictures straightened on the wall, the couch wiped clean. There was nothing left but her memories. She could live with the memories, but could she live with after..?
The air outside was cold and moist and she embraced the clammy feeling against her skin. At least it was something different. She got in her car and turned the key but couldn't bring herself to put the car in gear. She didn't want to go home but she couldn't just sit here forever staring at the lights of her dash and the empty space where his car should be. Like a thief in the night, she thought.
No, there was no place to go but home. If it were any other time and any other reason she would have gone to him and the warm embrace of his home and family. He could always make her forget the world for awhile. He always knew what she needed, gave her what she wanted without her asking, sometimes even when she didn't know she needed it. Tonight she had given him what he needed, what she thought she wanted and now all she was left with was…after.
So should I continue this?
