Disclaimer: They're not mine. I forget who owns them, but it's definitely not me. Something to do with some kind of Reptile, I think...
Into That Good Night
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
(Dylan Thomas)
---------------------------------------------------------
Chapter Four: Wild Men
I froze.
Naturally, and despite all my years of Military training, I froze. Fear enveloped my body and mind, paralysing me, and no matter what the consequences were of this terrifying moment, I will *never* forgive myself for being unable to stop the attack.
The voice was heavy in my ear, demanding I succumb to his will, as I desperately tried to remember at least some basic self-defence; Solar Plexus, Instep, Nose, Groin. Thank God and Daniel for forcing me to watch 'Miss Congeniality' a few days earlier.
I struggled beneath my attackers tight grip. His right arm had moved and was encircling my waist, higher than before, pressing into me hard; my face against the wall, whilst his left hand remained clamped firmly over my stunned mouth. I could feel his entire body pushed up hard against mine, pinning me down. I tried to scream, honest to God, I tried, but no sound came out. I concentrated hard on breathing though my nose, trying to stop the panic attack building up high in my chest, and finding my paralysis fading, I attempted to bite the hand covering my dry lips. But whoever had me knew their shit, and they had ensured that I couldn't get a grip.
I tried to concentrate on every movement made by this man, every sound, and every smell.
Every smell.
My heart caught in my throat. It was the wrong smell. I suddenly realised through the panic and fog encompassing my dizzy mind that it wasn't the same odour that had lingered in my room, it was different...*nicer* somehow.
I can't explain the train my thoughts were taking at that moment. Even at the time I couldn't believe that my main coherent thought was that my attacker smelled good, but he did. More than that, I recognised it from somewhere, but where?
Then it hit me, like a bolt out of the blue and I laughed, suddenly, shortly, hysterically.
The Colonel.
It was the same smell that surrounded the Colonel after he came out of the showers. A pleasant, slightly musky smell of men's deodorant that I'd always loved so much.
My captor spoke again. A quiet voice whispering, hissing in my ear.
"Quit struggling. He'll hear us!"
The grip loosened suddenly, allowing me to turn around in the man's embrace. Despite the darkness of the room, I was close enough to see my captor's face.
The sight that greeted me made my knees weaken involuntarily, and I nearly passed out from shock and relief.
"Colonel?"
-------------------------------------------------------
Sorry, yet another cliffhanger. Ah, what are you gonna do?
The feedback so far has been much appreciated, and yes, Shiplover, there *will* be Shippiness - if you all keep letting me know what you think!
Into That Good Night
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
(Dylan Thomas)
---------------------------------------------------------
Chapter Four: Wild Men
I froze.
Naturally, and despite all my years of Military training, I froze. Fear enveloped my body and mind, paralysing me, and no matter what the consequences were of this terrifying moment, I will *never* forgive myself for being unable to stop the attack.
The voice was heavy in my ear, demanding I succumb to his will, as I desperately tried to remember at least some basic self-defence; Solar Plexus, Instep, Nose, Groin. Thank God and Daniel for forcing me to watch 'Miss Congeniality' a few days earlier.
I struggled beneath my attackers tight grip. His right arm had moved and was encircling my waist, higher than before, pressing into me hard; my face against the wall, whilst his left hand remained clamped firmly over my stunned mouth. I could feel his entire body pushed up hard against mine, pinning me down. I tried to scream, honest to God, I tried, but no sound came out. I concentrated hard on breathing though my nose, trying to stop the panic attack building up high in my chest, and finding my paralysis fading, I attempted to bite the hand covering my dry lips. But whoever had me knew their shit, and they had ensured that I couldn't get a grip.
I tried to concentrate on every movement made by this man, every sound, and every smell.
Every smell.
My heart caught in my throat. It was the wrong smell. I suddenly realised through the panic and fog encompassing my dizzy mind that it wasn't the same odour that had lingered in my room, it was different...*nicer* somehow.
I can't explain the train my thoughts were taking at that moment. Even at the time I couldn't believe that my main coherent thought was that my attacker smelled good, but he did. More than that, I recognised it from somewhere, but where?
Then it hit me, like a bolt out of the blue and I laughed, suddenly, shortly, hysterically.
The Colonel.
It was the same smell that surrounded the Colonel after he came out of the showers. A pleasant, slightly musky smell of men's deodorant that I'd always loved so much.
My captor spoke again. A quiet voice whispering, hissing in my ear.
"Quit struggling. He'll hear us!"
The grip loosened suddenly, allowing me to turn around in the man's embrace. Despite the darkness of the room, I was close enough to see my captor's face.
The sight that greeted me made my knees weaken involuntarily, and I nearly passed out from shock and relief.
"Colonel?"
-------------------------------------------------------
Sorry, yet another cliffhanger. Ah, what are you gonna do?
The feedback so far has been much appreciated, and yes, Shiplover, there *will* be Shippiness - if you all keep letting me know what you think!