More than bigotry and sully settled into those eyes, but a crave for lust. Sparrow could already sense it from cowering in the room's corner and though at first she assumed an accomplice to ease the desire would be from another girl. But with every step towards her, she endured the sudden revelation that she was his wish.
All the other girls were rough and had aggression concealed by skimpy lace lingerie and beehive hairstyles, yet experienced and infamous to the occasional customer. Surely, Sparrow mistakenly believe, they would be chosen over her.
But this man, tall though wide, representing the shape of an enlarged pulm with unconnected patches of a beard and blonde hair fading to a gray, must have needed something new. Perhaps he found these other girls cliche, growing him tiresome with every jaunt to his local brothel.
This was now the arrival of something fresh, something that was still pure.
"What do we have here?" His voice sounded like he was trying to devour a stick of butter, drowning over the sound of the coins jingling in his grasp. "You're new….Pretty too, ain't you? Very pretty.
"I got here twenty - cents from working at the blacksmith. I left the rest for my family….so why don't we go to the room close by and you'll make it worth my while."
Sparrow rebounded. "I'm not what you think I am, sir."
"Oh?" he mostly mouthed.
She nodded, though knew not to believe he understood. "I...I come from Bowerstone. I was abducted here and forced -."
"Bowerstone?" he repeated, his eyes growing twice their size. "My, you're far away from home, aren't you? Should have know, you're clean. I'll pay you extra."
"I'm not that, sir," hissed Sparrow, her attempted tranquil state losing its strength. "I'm not and I will not do anything with you, so keep your money!"
Perhaps her words had put him in fumes, or his temper was just naturally slender, for he grasped her arm and drew her closer in a heave. A flame ember seemed to light in his eyes, and he focused them upon her, enabling her terror. "Don't cross me, strumpet! You either get the job done or I'll rip you to pieces."
That stare of daggers, that brow furrowing closer together and those glossy eyes piercing deep in her were enough for Sparrow to whispered a hush apology.
For once she stood, without a weapon and without the power of Will.
Her confidence had always shadowed her fear, for she was a Hero, though now she felt feeble. She felt vulnerable. Powerless.
"I'll forgive you, if you follow what I ask," he offered.
"Fi...fine," she uttered.
So his hand slinked into her and he led Sparrow to one of the beds on the upstairs of the brothel.
Swiftly, he heaved her down upon it and commenced to climb on top of her, empathizing little with her winces and silent pleas. The bed frame creaked beneath them as he leaned into her neck, feeling her shudder as a strain of warm breath collided with her.
"Please….please, don't."
Despite her whimper, the man's fingers begun to unlatch the buttons of her corset. His pace was quick, even through her cries.
"Don't….please don't do this to me," Sparrow stammered. "Stop!"
Though he never did.
A cloud of dirt saturated the water as Sparrow cupped it up and threw it against her face.
In the mirror above, cracked through the center with a marred wooden border, she caught a glimpse of her reflection. Facially she had remained grim from the voyage yesterday, yet as she washed it off, the feeling of shame soddening her soul would not be cleansed.
Her breathing altered rapidly with it, while a blurr built in her eyes with a sudden sting. A numbness soon washed over her, as she turned still.
She had not released a tear since Rose's death.
Sixteen years she had strayed from anything that made her weep, sheltering herself from anything that would provoke a cry. Though now she had lost her control.
"I hate you Reaver!" she screeched, through the dimness, descending to the floorboards. "I will kill you! I will find you and torture you to death! I hate you….And I will kill you!"
Several years, revenge and fury would consume her.
Memories of the past, Lucien's downfall, her childhood, some days even her name had abandon her, save the name of Reaver and her hatred for him. Each day she awoke, she thought of his face being engulfed by flames and at night, his body would hang from a stake.
It was not until the late summer, after hundred of harrowing new memories and encounter, an element in her revenge scheme emerged.
Well talk about not getting interesting…..maybe next chapter? Blah! I'll always suck! But that doesn't mean you guys can't follow or favorite! Or review, not that I read my reviews very often, you don't know how much hate mail I get daily. Oh it's horrible, me people! But anyways, do whatever tickles your pickle and does not cause a pain in your pant! Anyways, big dongs and prosper and I'll see you guys someday! :)