Disclaimer: Don't own them, never will... *tear*
Author's Note: Without Horizon, you'll see. Hey, all the cool kids are writing them. *cough* Emma! *cough* lol more of THWLI! By the way, this is rated R for a reason. Proceed with caution.
"You said no more," a scared girl cried out.
"Oh but kitten, you know that I love you."
"Please! You... you promised!"
It was late, one autumn night. A young girl of seventeen years of age sat at the head of her bed, shaking uncontrollably. She had her covers pulled up over her body, her knees up against her chest.
"I never promised anything!" he yelled. He slapped her hard across the face. She began to cry.
"Please, Walt," she said in a tiny voice. Walt. He was the source from which sprang Shelby's troubles. When she ran, it was his fault. When she cried, it was his fault. When she had to sell herself to live through those tough times on the street, it was his fault. When she bled, it was his fault.
"Now, don't say a word," he said as he sat down on her bed. He took her covers away from her, leaving her curled up in her thickest, warmest pajamas. He put a hand on her cheek. The tears that had now been flowing for some time soaked his hand. He ran his hand down to her chin. As it continued its progress down, it became a single finger touching her skin. When this solitary pin reached the collar of her shirt, both his hands took it off. It was done slowly so as to prolong Shelby's pain and suffering.
The entire time only two words ran through her mind: it'll pass. She endured it for only one reason... Jess. As soon as her shirt was off, Walt ripped her pants off. He smiled wickedly as she lay there, shaking, crying... hurting. He took his own pants off and lay down beside her. His finger circled her face, then went down the side of her body. It rested on her breast. She bit her lip to prevent the yell that wanted so bad to escape. As Walt lay on top of her and did obscene things to her childhood, she felt blood being drawn from her lip. She tried to push him off, but that only made him mad. He took her hands and pinned them down, above her head.
"Walt!" she cried out. This only made it worse. He bit down, hard, on her bottom lip. She cried out in pain and horror, but those simple cries for help were lost.
As quickly as it started, it finished. Walt got off her when he'd gotten all he'd come for. He put on his pants and left with not so much as a look back on the damage he'd done.
Shelby lay on her bed. She was cold, alone, her face was soaked in tears, and her mouth was drenched with bitter blood.
She got up and headed for the shower. However, before she reached the shower, her stomach emptied itself down the toilet.
"Well, there goes my plan to make myself sexually unappealing to him," she said disgusted with herself. She flushed, and got into the shower. I'm turning into that little bitch, Juliette. No one can see it, but I know that a swollen, red throat like that means she barfs up every other thing she eats, she thought to herself. Time to wash away all this crusty blood. She turned the knob and stinging hot water washed over her body. She winced at the heat, but remained under its jet. "Well, maybe this'll was away his cum," she said even more disgusted. "Never does wash away everything though," she added in little more than a whisper.
She sat down under the jet and cried, rocking back and forth. She was so relieved that he was gone for tonight, but so fearful of what would come tomorrow.
Thus, another nightmare ended for Shelby Merrick.
**************************************************************************************
Elsewhere, the nightmare was just beginning for one Scott Barringer.
"Scotty?" a voice called from his doorway.
Scott was totally high, but still feared her.
"No... You... you said no more," he said. He wanted it to come out strong and confident, but it escaped in a shaky voice in between sobs.
"But Scotty, you know I'm scared," she said, smiling seductively. She made him sick. He retreated to the back of his bed when she approached.
"It's... it's clear tonight, there's... there's no storm. You promised," he persisted.
"I'm scared of the dark," she said, sitting on his bed. "Come on, Scotty, you know you can't resist me. You love me. You told me so. Say it again, Scotty, tell me you love me." She was crawling up his bed, like a spider. She sent shivers down his spine. Scott shook his head. Why couldn't he stop her? Why was he never strong enough? "Say it, Scott!" she said a little more forcefully, lying down beside him, placing a hand on his chest.
"I... I... I can't," he whimpered. I hate you, he yelled out inside.
"Well, we can deal with that later," she whispered into his ear, moving closer to him. Her body was now pushed up against his side. Her leg slid up, onto him. He closed his eyes, trying to block it all out. It never worked though. The pain was always too piercing.
Elaine just did her deed and left. But those few short minutes were all it took. Scott just had one more tick on his long list of emotional scars. He cried. He always cried when she left. He had such a build up of negative emotions when she came around him; it was hard to keep it in. he got up and went into his own shower.
The dirt! He had to get it out! He had to take it off! How? He scrubbed furiously. "Get off!" he yelled out in despair. When he knew it would never come off, he left. He climbed into bed, reached over for his stash, and smoked himself silly.
**************************************************************************************
Daisy Lipenowski cried. Her parents had been drinking and yelling at each other all evening. Her dad had finally had enough and punched her mom. That's when she'd had enough and ran to her room, crying. She couldn't take it any more.
Why'd they have to hate each other so much? Why do they hate me so much that they can't possibly be nice to each other? Why can't they just get along? Why do they have to drag me into their fights?
As these thoughts wandered her mind, her dad had gotten bored drinking and was now coming upstairs. Daisy tried to look strong. She got up and wiped away her tears. She put on a blank expression. If she would show expression, it would only weaken her at this time. As he dad entered the room, she had the façade of a tough, "I don't take no shit from no one," type of girl.
"Daisy!" he yelled. Daisy shuddered at how insanely drunk he was. Maybe he doesn't have enough energy to go on, she thought. Maybe it won't be that bad. Suddenly, for a second, Daisy saw what appeared to be a glimpse of her dad sobering up. In a calm voice he said: "I hate you." He turned around and left, passing out outside her door, but the damage was done.
Daisy remained standing, not knowing exactly what to do with herself. Inside, her mind was racing, and her soul collapsing. Just the fact that he'd said that, completely aware of himself, was such a hit. After a while of just standing, she collapsed onto her bed and cried herself to sleep.
**************************************************************************************
For David Ruxton, every moment at home was unbearable and painful.
"You're an embarrassment to this family! I hate you! You should be sent somewhere where they never allow you to see the light of day!" his father yelled at him. David had had to endure this type of verbal abuse for a long time, and had learned to block it out. What he couldn't block out, as much as he wanted to, was what always came next.
The General pulled his fist back and hit David in the face... hard. David flew back against the wall. He slid down and lay, crumpled at the bottom. The General approached him and looked down on him disgusted.
"You can't even put up a good fight." With that he kicked him hard in the chest. David gasped for air as the life was being kicked out of him. When his father stopped, he was little more than a bloody pulp. He lay there half the night, trying to recover. As first light came, he knew his dad would be even madder if he found David lying at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against a wall.
He slowly got up, heaving and hauling himself, and climbed the stairs. He got to the top and stumbled into the shower.
Why can I never stop him? Why am I never strong enough? Why can't I just be the perfect son? Why am I so fucked up? What is wrong with me? Why does he hate me so much? Why?
As he turned off the shower and stumbled out, he looked at himself in the mirror. Suddenly, his eyes glazed over and his face became blank.
Well, here goes another lovely day at school with my fellow honourable students, he thought to himself. Gosh, even my thoughts are becoming cynical.
Author's Note: Without Horizon, you'll see. Hey, all the cool kids are writing them. *cough* Emma! *cough* lol more of THWLI! By the way, this is rated R for a reason. Proceed with caution.
"You said no more," a scared girl cried out.
"Oh but kitten, you know that I love you."
"Please! You... you promised!"
It was late, one autumn night. A young girl of seventeen years of age sat at the head of her bed, shaking uncontrollably. She had her covers pulled up over her body, her knees up against her chest.
"I never promised anything!" he yelled. He slapped her hard across the face. She began to cry.
"Please, Walt," she said in a tiny voice. Walt. He was the source from which sprang Shelby's troubles. When she ran, it was his fault. When she cried, it was his fault. When she had to sell herself to live through those tough times on the street, it was his fault. When she bled, it was his fault.
"Now, don't say a word," he said as he sat down on her bed. He took her covers away from her, leaving her curled up in her thickest, warmest pajamas. He put a hand on her cheek. The tears that had now been flowing for some time soaked his hand. He ran his hand down to her chin. As it continued its progress down, it became a single finger touching her skin. When this solitary pin reached the collar of her shirt, both his hands took it off. It was done slowly so as to prolong Shelby's pain and suffering.
The entire time only two words ran through her mind: it'll pass. She endured it for only one reason... Jess. As soon as her shirt was off, Walt ripped her pants off. He smiled wickedly as she lay there, shaking, crying... hurting. He took his own pants off and lay down beside her. His finger circled her face, then went down the side of her body. It rested on her breast. She bit her lip to prevent the yell that wanted so bad to escape. As Walt lay on top of her and did obscene things to her childhood, she felt blood being drawn from her lip. She tried to push him off, but that only made him mad. He took her hands and pinned them down, above her head.
"Walt!" she cried out. This only made it worse. He bit down, hard, on her bottom lip. She cried out in pain and horror, but those simple cries for help were lost.
As quickly as it started, it finished. Walt got off her when he'd gotten all he'd come for. He put on his pants and left with not so much as a look back on the damage he'd done.
Shelby lay on her bed. She was cold, alone, her face was soaked in tears, and her mouth was drenched with bitter blood.
She got up and headed for the shower. However, before she reached the shower, her stomach emptied itself down the toilet.
"Well, there goes my plan to make myself sexually unappealing to him," she said disgusted with herself. She flushed, and got into the shower. I'm turning into that little bitch, Juliette. No one can see it, but I know that a swollen, red throat like that means she barfs up every other thing she eats, she thought to herself. Time to wash away all this crusty blood. She turned the knob and stinging hot water washed over her body. She winced at the heat, but remained under its jet. "Well, maybe this'll was away his cum," she said even more disgusted. "Never does wash away everything though," she added in little more than a whisper.
She sat down under the jet and cried, rocking back and forth. She was so relieved that he was gone for tonight, but so fearful of what would come tomorrow.
Thus, another nightmare ended for Shelby Merrick.
**************************************************************************************
Elsewhere, the nightmare was just beginning for one Scott Barringer.
"Scotty?" a voice called from his doorway.
Scott was totally high, but still feared her.
"No... You... you said no more," he said. He wanted it to come out strong and confident, but it escaped in a shaky voice in between sobs.
"But Scotty, you know I'm scared," she said, smiling seductively. She made him sick. He retreated to the back of his bed when she approached.
"It's... it's clear tonight, there's... there's no storm. You promised," he persisted.
"I'm scared of the dark," she said, sitting on his bed. "Come on, Scotty, you know you can't resist me. You love me. You told me so. Say it again, Scotty, tell me you love me." She was crawling up his bed, like a spider. She sent shivers down his spine. Scott shook his head. Why couldn't he stop her? Why was he never strong enough? "Say it, Scott!" she said a little more forcefully, lying down beside him, placing a hand on his chest.
"I... I... I can't," he whimpered. I hate you, he yelled out inside.
"Well, we can deal with that later," she whispered into his ear, moving closer to him. Her body was now pushed up against his side. Her leg slid up, onto him. He closed his eyes, trying to block it all out. It never worked though. The pain was always too piercing.
Elaine just did her deed and left. But those few short minutes were all it took. Scott just had one more tick on his long list of emotional scars. He cried. He always cried when she left. He had such a build up of negative emotions when she came around him; it was hard to keep it in. he got up and went into his own shower.
The dirt! He had to get it out! He had to take it off! How? He scrubbed furiously. "Get off!" he yelled out in despair. When he knew it would never come off, he left. He climbed into bed, reached over for his stash, and smoked himself silly.
**************************************************************************************
Daisy Lipenowski cried. Her parents had been drinking and yelling at each other all evening. Her dad had finally had enough and punched her mom. That's when she'd had enough and ran to her room, crying. She couldn't take it any more.
Why'd they have to hate each other so much? Why do they hate me so much that they can't possibly be nice to each other? Why can't they just get along? Why do they have to drag me into their fights?
As these thoughts wandered her mind, her dad had gotten bored drinking and was now coming upstairs. Daisy tried to look strong. She got up and wiped away her tears. She put on a blank expression. If she would show expression, it would only weaken her at this time. As he dad entered the room, she had the façade of a tough, "I don't take no shit from no one," type of girl.
"Daisy!" he yelled. Daisy shuddered at how insanely drunk he was. Maybe he doesn't have enough energy to go on, she thought. Maybe it won't be that bad. Suddenly, for a second, Daisy saw what appeared to be a glimpse of her dad sobering up. In a calm voice he said: "I hate you." He turned around and left, passing out outside her door, but the damage was done.
Daisy remained standing, not knowing exactly what to do with herself. Inside, her mind was racing, and her soul collapsing. Just the fact that he'd said that, completely aware of himself, was such a hit. After a while of just standing, she collapsed onto her bed and cried herself to sleep.
**************************************************************************************
For David Ruxton, every moment at home was unbearable and painful.
"You're an embarrassment to this family! I hate you! You should be sent somewhere where they never allow you to see the light of day!" his father yelled at him. David had had to endure this type of verbal abuse for a long time, and had learned to block it out. What he couldn't block out, as much as he wanted to, was what always came next.
The General pulled his fist back and hit David in the face... hard. David flew back against the wall. He slid down and lay, crumpled at the bottom. The General approached him and looked down on him disgusted.
"You can't even put up a good fight." With that he kicked him hard in the chest. David gasped for air as the life was being kicked out of him. When his father stopped, he was little more than a bloody pulp. He lay there half the night, trying to recover. As first light came, he knew his dad would be even madder if he found David lying at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against a wall.
He slowly got up, heaving and hauling himself, and climbed the stairs. He got to the top and stumbled into the shower.
Why can I never stop him? Why am I never strong enough? Why can't I just be the perfect son? Why am I so fucked up? What is wrong with me? Why does he hate me so much? Why?
As he turned off the shower and stumbled out, he looked at himself in the mirror. Suddenly, his eyes glazed over and his face became blank.
Well, here goes another lovely day at school with my fellow honourable students, he thought to himself. Gosh, even my thoughts are becoming cynical.