Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Prologue:
He grabbed my arm tightly, fingers leaving bluish rings. After a sharp intake of breath, I found the courage to bravely retort—though the words came out more feebly than I planned—" What do you think you're doing—you insufferable—"
But my words were abruptly cut off as he slapped me clear across the face. Stars exploded across my vision, and I would have hit the ground, had it not been for his hand—his Quidditch-strength, horribly rough hand—that held me suspended in the air. I still slipped downward, and his nails left rivers of red on my pale skin. My descent marked a new low, as I was brought face to face with his crotch. I tried to avert my eyes, ashamed. A heat colored my cheeks. Why does he make me feel like this?
"Don't talk to me that way! Do you know how much I love you? I can't stand you looking down on me—" his gruff voice broke off, thick with emotion. I could feel him shaking with it. My heartstrings pulled in sympathy at his words. Do I really cause him such pain?
But then his free hand shoved my face into his pants, nearly suffocating me. I dared not take a breath, for fear of what that would invite him to do, what new horrors he could introduce…
My knees were kissing the ground, and I wished nothing more than to lie myself upon it, have it caress me in its coolness. Why had it come to this?
Yet the universe did not yield my wishes.
Suddenly, without warning, he shoved me against the wall, the back of my head cracking. My vision rattled back and forth upon impact, and I heard the resounding thud in a detached sort of way. Thoughts becoming clouded, I tried to rake in a breath.
Somewhere, as if from far away, I heard a door slam shut, but maybe that was just my heart. My movements became heavy, but I registered the "Silencio" charm resonating throughout the room. He's not going to stop…
Unadulterated fear coursed through my veins, it was the only thing keeping me alive right now, as my body fought to succumb to the darkness.
Sweet, sweet darkness….
So this part of the story doesn't come into play until later. I want this piece—I say piece because I don't want it to be a traditional "story"—to be one that appeals to many genres—hurt/comfort, yes. But also playful, and surprisingly sweet. A real "heartstring tug." Or maybe you just want to be amused. Whatever vous aimez! Hope you enjoyed this vignette. Reviews mucho appreciated:) Criticism also.
Always,
F.G.