A/N : I don't see much fic in this fandom. I had high expectations… I wanted India and Charlie together. Humm. I can honestly say I'm disappointed with the ending.
Anyway, I fell in love with Stoker after watching the movie. I don't watch that much movies (well, I do, but I dont... like, watch/know 60% of the newest ones), and didn't know that much with psychological horror genre. But it was beautiful—although initially a tad bit confusing.
And I was never a fan of incest, but this one is… different.
It's… unique, and sweet in it's own way, and the conflict are intriguing, and… it's… oh well.
Just enjoy!
Warning : Spoiler, and…and…idk what else. Blood?
Disclaimer applies.
To tell the truth, India Stoker never really felt anything stir inside her chest.
Well, except for the time when her father died. Or seeing Whip die. But it was more of a shock than any others.
She was not one known to show much emotion. Even when her Dad—the one closest to her—died, the neighbors were murmuring about her expressionless façade—how she had not shed even a single tears of mourn or even frown all the while thorough the ceremony despite her sorrow inside.
When she was bullied, she beaten them all merely by her unresponsive attitude and cold stare, accompanied by her straight expression.
There was a time when her first pet—a white fluffy bunny—died tragically, and she only stood there staring at the dripping blood, finding it even slightly fascinating.
Her heart always felt so hollow, so empty.
Yet—what was it? The thing happening inside her chest right now?
India stared at the scene in front of her without expression. She put down her long gun and nonchalantly dropped it to the floor.
The air was filled with the thick scent of blood as the red stain on the carpet got bigger. India observed the spreading color, surprised that it didn't really fascinate her as much. She lifted her gaze slightly, resting it on the male figure laying on the carpet. As if on instinct, she stepped slowly, approaching it, ignoring her mother's heavy choking and horror stare.
When the tip of her high heel touched his leather shoes, she bent over and crouched closer. The moonlight was shining brightly through the broken window, illuminating Charlie's motionless body. India found her gaze locked to him as her small hands half consciously ran through his shirt, feeling his chest beneath the fabric, tracing down gently. She cupped the side of his face—which she always found gorgeous, although she'd never admit it. Her small hands gently turned his head, now his hollow blue eyes looking at her.
As she caressed his cheek, she remembered how those eyes would glint every time he looked at her. How it shone as he made she wore her first high heels. How it would lock her brown ones so alluringly, and how she felt so filled, so completedevery time their gaze lock.
Her fingertips ran across his lips, remembering his mischievous smirk. She remembered how it would smile so slightly as he waited by his car in front of her campus, not giving up after all the times she had ran away. And also that one genuine smile that slowly crept up all the way to the corner of his eyes as he told her that he loved her, that everything he did was for her.
Now what had she done to repay that?
Slowly, India leaned closer to his cold chest as she took in the comforting fragrance of sandalwood mixed with blood. Her hands laced itself around his motionless body, and she held him into a tight embrace. Evelyn stared with horror as she crawled out of the room, leaving the two bathed in moonlight. India breathed in and held him tighter.
And much to her surprise, warm liquid poured out of her half lidded eyes.
Why? Why did she only realize it now?
That she felt so much more complete with him, in his embrace? Now it felt hollow—something was lacking.
His warmth.
She imagined how he'd hold her close and firm, if his soul was still present—how his smile would grow as he reached for her cheek. Her mind recalled the words of his letters.
'I hate being touched, India, and I know you do too. However, I'm sure having you in my embrace would be an
exception, as I would love it greatly. I wonder if you think so, too.'
"Yes, Uncle, I think so too," she mumbled into his chest with a trembling voice.
Never did in her life had she experienced regret. But her chest sunk deeper as she took in the fact that he was gone. He was the only one to understand her feeling of emptiness. He would be the only person not to cringe as she laid down to the ground, her ears listening the sound of bunnies and rats underneath. He'd be the only person who could understand if she ever pointed to an eagle flying far up the sky, between the ragged clouds.
And the way he said her name. His alluring low tone and lips movement—how it fascinates her every time.
But staring at his lips, she knew she would never hear it again.
"Charlie," she whispered—the first time she had ever called his name. She looked up with teary eyes, meeting his hollow façade. 'Wont you come back?' she pleaded in her heart, knowing the answer already.
Then, almost hesitantly, she leaned into his cold lips in a long kiss.
Their first kiss.
She noticed that his mouth smelled like mint. India regretted that the first kiss she shared was with Whip—done due to her anger and frustration. If only she knew.
Pulling back, she stared at his face again. After planting the beauty of his clear blue eyes deep into her memory, she closed his eyes. India hugged Charlie tight again, taking in as much of his scent as possible, before she—hesitantly—let go of her hold and stood, wiping her tears.
Silently, she dragged his dead body to the backyard thorough the halls, leaving a thick trace of deep scarlet along the way.
She was going to have the longest funeral of her life.
The day after, she would be leaving.
And maybe, she would eventually find something to fill that now bigger hole inside her heart.
A/N : Wow, did this in less than half an hour. Now you see what I can achieve when inspiration strikes.
Not that the story's that original, but…
Well, about India and Charlie.
It's very unique, and it prickled my interest—about how these two feel so different and detached from the rest of the world, and how the were the only one, seemed to made perfectly just for each other. And…. Ugh, if you watch Stoker, you'd know what I mean.
If you haven't? Seriously, go watch it. Why are you reading this if you haven't anyway?
I had my eyes on Stoker ever since I saw the coming soon poster on the cinema. I was expecting something else, to tell you the truth, but I quite enjoyed the movie either ways.
Reviews are golds and diamonds to me!
Hope you enjoyed it.
Aisu