Ditto on disclaimers of chapters one and two.
ATTENTION!!! More angst, some very heavy violence in this chapter. I take my censor very, very, very seriously. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT 13!!!
Silk on Steel
Three: Broken Dreamer
* * *
Sometimes it seemed memories had not existed before fifteen years of age. She didn't remember much about the times before. She remembered that they would move a lot, and that the places they lived were always temporary "just for the time being" sorts of places. Her mother was a pretty woman, but the men she dated couldn't see her prettiness, only her figure. For some reason or another, she'd never known her father at all. They'd never had very much, and that made it that much easier to move. And one thing that had always seemed odd was that her mother and she never talked much. By the time Faye was thirteen, she'd gotten used to moving a lot. She'd gotten used to buying clothes at thrift stores, gotten used to spending nights alone, gotten used to enduring the derisive comments that seemed to follow her city after city, school after school, gotten used to the small piles of mysterious powder she would find in her mother's room. A couple times, they had stayed in shelters, but never for very long.
It was always on to another place, never staying anywhere for long; two rolling stones never gathering any moss.
But one thing she remembered the best was that one day.
They were on the move again; she'd learned not to ask where, the answer always being "I'm not sure." She was fifteen years old, and she was feeling drowsy. She'd been in the car for nearly four hours now, and it was a cool day, the kind that comes right between winter and spring, and the sort that made you want to curl up and sleep.
When they finally got into a town about midday, they stopped in front of an ice cream shop.
"What are we doing here?" she asked her mom, waking up from the nap.
"I thought we deserved a treat," she answered with a little hesitation.
Faye was a little surprised, but she didn't hesitate to order her favorite flavor, Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, double scoop with a cherry. She lapped happily at it as they wandered down the street.
"Would you like to see a show?" her mother asked when they passed a movie theatre.
She couldn't believe her ears. First, ice creams, and now, a movie? Faye gave her mother a questioning look, but her mother only smiled in return. With a little uneasy smile, she took the ticket the movie person and they filed into the dark coolness of the inside of the theatre.
It was a comedy; one of those stupid comedies that don't make sense at all, but for some reason, you laugh at the dumb jokes anyways. But all the time she was trying to laugh and simultaneously keep her ice cream from melting, she couldn't help but wonder why the nice treatment all of a sudden. Even her mom knew they couldn't afford it.
But she kept it out of her mind.
Once they got out of the theatre, they kept walking down the streets, and it seemed to Faye that they were pretty far from the car now.
"Mom?" she said finally as they were passing yet another park. "Where . . . exactly . . . are we going?"
"I . . . I have to do something," she said hesitantly. "And I thought . . . you know . . . you could wait here."
"Why can't I come with you?" Faye asked suspiciously.
"Oh, you'd be bored," her mom tried to convince her.
"I'd still rather come with you."
"What are you so worried about?" she asked, helping Faye get settled on a park bench. "I'll only be gone for an hour or so."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure," her mom hugged her before she left. For some reason or another, the hug seemed to last a little longer than usual, like her mom didn't want to let go of her. "You're my baby."
Then, without a word, her mother wrenched herself away, and before Faye knew it, she was gone, down the street.
Afternoon turned into evening and evening turned into twilight, and still no sign of her. It was starting to get a cold. Not like she was worried or anything. Her mom could have gotten held up by something or maybe she was having trouble with directions. She had a history of the world's worst sense of direction.
Twilight slowly turned to nightfall, still no sign. Where was she? Things were starting to get a little bit frightening. From experience, Faye knew that parks were often the haunts of gang members and street dealers. But, like some fundamentalist religious leader, she curled up on the park bench and waited.
Midnight. Nothing. This could not be normal. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Daybreak. That little sliver of sun poking out under the predawn. A grave thought occurred to her that she had never dared to dream in her whole entire life.
Her mother wasn't coming back. She had never intended to. She'd just abandoned her.
With a heavy heart and an empty stomach, Faye slowly got her feet and walked away from that park bench forever.
Looking back, the next few weeks were blurry and undefined in her mind. All she could remember is wandering; wandering endlessly, always searching in soup kitchens and garbage cans for her food and finding cardboard boxes to sleep in when it got cold. Her clothes got dirty and ragged and her hair started to get gnarly and tangled, but she couldn't think about any of that. She hardly ever had water to drink, none the less bathe with. During the night, she could remember fighting other street kids for the scraps of food from the dumpsters.
For the first time in her life, Faye didn't care about living.
But of course, that only lasted so long.
It was a dark night, and she'd just gotten back from the usual fight. This time, it had been Italian; or, in fact, their garbage cans. A dishwasher had spotted her and come out brandishing a broom menacingly, but he didn't follow her for long; only a minute or so. She'd been so concentrated on getting away she wasn't able to stop herself from slamming head on into a pedestrian.
"Hey, watch where ya goin', ya son of a bi-" her sentence caught in her throat halfway. The man she was looking up at was wearing a long, black trench coat and an angry scowl. But most of all he looked like he had power, and that could only mean one thing: full o' cash. And in this part of town, cash meant crime, so she wanted to get away as soon as possible. In two seconds, she was back on her feet, making for the other side of the street. . .
But he caught the hood of her sweatshirt.
"Hey!" he shouted as she tried to scream but couldn't as his other hand was covering her mouth. "Hey, c'mon . . . I'm not going to hurt you!"
For a couple seconds, she continued to struggle, and then felt a sharp prick on the back of her neck. With a start she realized what it was. It was a syringe; a syringe full of sedatives, no doubt. She struggled and struggled, trying to beat her way free, but he was too strong for her. In her mind, she could feel herself getting slowly more and more drowsy, and deep down, she knew he wouldn't be able to fight against it. Still, her lungs cried to scream and her muscles tried to resist, but it was no use, she was dropping farther and farther down . . . down . . . down. . .
To this day, she had know idea how many hours or perhaps even days passed, but when she awoke, the sky outside was dark. She was in a strange room lying on a strange bed where she had been asleep, and her clothes were gone, replaced by what felt like some sort of evening gown. Her skin felt fresh, as if she'd been washed. She couldn't tell if she were alone or not, but by instinct, she stayed quiet.
"You're such a lovely girl," a voice came from the door. "It's a shame to see you so afraid."
The silhouette of a tall, thin man was standing in the doorway. She gasped.
"You know, you cost me quite a bit, dearie."
She didn't respond. She wanted to run, but her legs didn't want to run, and even if she could, there was nowhere to go.
"I'm sorry," the stranger continued, "I must be confusing you. Let me explain. That sedative of yours . . . let's just say my clients were quite upset with me. Nearly got my neck for it. But it was all worthwhile . . . wasn't it?"
"What . . . what do you mean?" she asked, terrified.
"Oh, you know . . . I mean, you are a very beautiful girl. Stupendous body. It was quite enjoyable . . . you really were made to wear designer, you know? But everyone knows," he began to approach the bed, his voice getting more and more dangerous, "that there's no use in it until they're awake."
"Please! . . ." she yelped. "Please . . . please don't do this!"
"Now am I to believe you am being ungrateful?" he was now climbing onto the bed and over her body. "Believe me, dearest. . . I hate ungraciousness!!!" His hands dove under her dress. "But you know what? I don't care about what you have to say, missy!"
"No! No, don't! Please!" she tried to fight, but he forced her legs apart. "Don't! Please don't! I'll do anything, anything!"
"Darling, I think it's just a little too late for that!"
And she knew nothing more until she woke the next morning.
When she had found herself awake in the sunlight lying in a torn sparkly blue evening gown next to the naked pervert who had raped her, she spent very little time feeling sad. For some reason or another, she did not feel guilty at all. She looked down at the creature before her and disgusted him. He was out like a light. Maybe he'd O.D.'d. For the first time in her life, she realized that she actually wished someone else dead. Cautiously, she crept out of bed, and quietly, as not to wake him, crept out of the room.
First of all, she found the bathroom and took a shower. The foamy soap seemed to take away the disgusting feeling that she imagined all over her skin. However, she couldn't so easily forget the ugliness that was inside her. But, at least for the time being, she knew she would have to ignore it.
After the shower, she dried herself with a white fluffy towel, and then tied it around her waist as she went in search of some clothes. The dress was ripped, and the clothes she'd had had been ruined for weeks. For a while, she sat on the bathroom floor and wondered what to do about clothes, until broke upon the idea to look in the pervert's closet.
'Pervert' was too light of word for this guy, she soon learned. Apart from normal clothes, there were also several girl's outfits stashed in the back of his armoire, including underwear, bras, lingerie, and shoes. It disgusted her to imagine how many teenage girls he must have done this to before. She found a pair of underwear that was a little loose, but would have to do. One pair of jeans seemed to fit her pretty well, and one of the other girls must have been a c-cup as well. A silky black t-shirt with some unknown band on the front struck her fancy, and one pair of black sandals fit nicely. With one quick look in the mirror, she ran a brush through her hair a few times until she felt satisfied with her appearance.
Her mind began to turn to thoughts of money. Of course, she was going to run away, but where was she going to get any money? She started looking around the room.
"Jesus Christ," she said aloud, talking to herself. "Pervert got so much shitload of money and can't find a cent of it."
Where was it? She suddenly thought of something. Where did people hide things when they don't want anyone to find them?
There was only one answer, under the bed.
She found a large steel box behind a portrait of a naked woman, in between a couple of shoeboxes. With careful hands, she opened the lid. Inside, an amazing amount of sparkling gems and valuables of all sorts were glistening in the light of the sunrise. Hurriedly, she started to fill her pockets with them. Everything you could possibly imagine was here; gold coins, rings, diamond watches, giant emeralds, long strings of pearls, pendants of strange and interesting stones.on and on. She filled all her pockets until her jeans were starting to slide down her waist. There was almost nothing left in the box now, but she didn't care. He probably had all kinds of money, and she didn't have any pity for him anyway.
He still wasn't awake. Maybe dead. She didn't care. Without even one look back, she made her way out of that penthouse apartment and walked away forever.
* * *
From that day forward, Faye's perception of love, and indeed, sex, had been completely changed.
Of all the many men she had had relations with throughout her life; there had always been one element in all of them. In every single one, she had been involved in a sexual relation for one reason and one reason only; to get closer to power. Whether he'd been a gambling boss or a politician, she was always in it for her own gain. And now looking back, she realized something that she had never let herself know before.
Never, in her whole entire life, had she ever loved a man at all. Not even one bit. That was, until now. Until, just by accident, she had run out of gas one day while in orbit around Mars, and just dropped into his life, his life, this man, this space cowboy. And now, for the very first time in her life, Faye looked at the sleeping body beside her, and knew what she'd said was true.she loved him. She loved him. He meant more to her than anything. That's why she'd been so afraid. Afraid of his love. Afraid that he wouldn't love her back. Maybe afraid that he would. Afraid of her fears.and afraid of him, so deadly afraid.
Spike stirred slightly. His hand slid softly from her waist to her hip, his throat sighing softly. The pleasant sweep of his calm, hypnotic breath brushed through her hair.
"Hey," he sighed.
"Hey," she answered
Silence. Absolutely amazing, blissful silence.
"I had a nightmare."
"Yeah. Me too."
More silence.
"Sing to me . . . one more time." The phrase seemed to come out of all illogic, and yet seemed so right. So she did. It was a song she'd never, ever heard before. But somewhere, she knew the words, she knew the tune, and for the first time, she knew just why.
"If I had the chance
I'd whisk us away
Leave this deadly dance
On this dark holiday.
If I had the power
We would run so far
Watch the glorious flower
In this bed of stars
If we were the gods
We should know no pain
Sail this sea abroad
In the starlight rain
And our love would last
For the rest of time
The future and past
Immortal in this rhyme.
But for just tonight
Let me spend with you
In this gray twilight
We made perfect for two
Our time is brief
So we must take care
Let our love relieve
All that we can't bear
You can have my heart
If you ask it me
In this flowery art
Nothing comes for free
Since our mortal lives
Swing in the balance
We'll just stay alive
In this darkened romance
So take up my hand
Let your fears aside
In this dark wasteland
With a love so divine
With a love so divine
With a love so divine. . .
He was asleep, his rhythmic breath sighing on her neck. With a small, silent smile of pure pleasure, she nestled her head in his bushy, tussled green hair, the sweet smell of her beloved overcoming her senses as her eyes became heavier and heavier. She slowly felt herself fall deeper and deeper into the warmth and finally into the sweet abyss.
ATTENTION!!! More angst, some very heavy violence in this chapter. I take my censor very, very, very seriously. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT 13!!!
Silk on Steel
Three: Broken Dreamer
* * *
Sometimes it seemed memories had not existed before fifteen years of age. She didn't remember much about the times before. She remembered that they would move a lot, and that the places they lived were always temporary "just for the time being" sorts of places. Her mother was a pretty woman, but the men she dated couldn't see her prettiness, only her figure. For some reason or another, she'd never known her father at all. They'd never had very much, and that made it that much easier to move. And one thing that had always seemed odd was that her mother and she never talked much. By the time Faye was thirteen, she'd gotten used to moving a lot. She'd gotten used to buying clothes at thrift stores, gotten used to spending nights alone, gotten used to enduring the derisive comments that seemed to follow her city after city, school after school, gotten used to the small piles of mysterious powder she would find in her mother's room. A couple times, they had stayed in shelters, but never for very long.
It was always on to another place, never staying anywhere for long; two rolling stones never gathering any moss.
But one thing she remembered the best was that one day.
They were on the move again; she'd learned not to ask where, the answer always being "I'm not sure." She was fifteen years old, and she was feeling drowsy. She'd been in the car for nearly four hours now, and it was a cool day, the kind that comes right between winter and spring, and the sort that made you want to curl up and sleep.
When they finally got into a town about midday, they stopped in front of an ice cream shop.
"What are we doing here?" she asked her mom, waking up from the nap.
"I thought we deserved a treat," she answered with a little hesitation.
Faye was a little surprised, but she didn't hesitate to order her favorite flavor, Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, double scoop with a cherry. She lapped happily at it as they wandered down the street.
"Would you like to see a show?" her mother asked when they passed a movie theatre.
She couldn't believe her ears. First, ice creams, and now, a movie? Faye gave her mother a questioning look, but her mother only smiled in return. With a little uneasy smile, she took the ticket the movie person and they filed into the dark coolness of the inside of the theatre.
It was a comedy; one of those stupid comedies that don't make sense at all, but for some reason, you laugh at the dumb jokes anyways. But all the time she was trying to laugh and simultaneously keep her ice cream from melting, she couldn't help but wonder why the nice treatment all of a sudden. Even her mom knew they couldn't afford it.
But she kept it out of her mind.
Once they got out of the theatre, they kept walking down the streets, and it seemed to Faye that they were pretty far from the car now.
"Mom?" she said finally as they were passing yet another park. "Where . . . exactly . . . are we going?"
"I . . . I have to do something," she said hesitantly. "And I thought . . . you know . . . you could wait here."
"Why can't I come with you?" Faye asked suspiciously.
"Oh, you'd be bored," her mom tried to convince her.
"I'd still rather come with you."
"What are you so worried about?" she asked, helping Faye get settled on a park bench. "I'll only be gone for an hour or so."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure," her mom hugged her before she left. For some reason or another, the hug seemed to last a little longer than usual, like her mom didn't want to let go of her. "You're my baby."
Then, without a word, her mother wrenched herself away, and before Faye knew it, she was gone, down the street.
Afternoon turned into evening and evening turned into twilight, and still no sign of her. It was starting to get a cold. Not like she was worried or anything. Her mom could have gotten held up by something or maybe she was having trouble with directions. She had a history of the world's worst sense of direction.
Twilight slowly turned to nightfall, still no sign. Where was she? Things were starting to get a little bit frightening. From experience, Faye knew that parks were often the haunts of gang members and street dealers. But, like some fundamentalist religious leader, she curled up on the park bench and waited.
Midnight. Nothing. This could not be normal. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Daybreak. That little sliver of sun poking out under the predawn. A grave thought occurred to her that she had never dared to dream in her whole entire life.
Her mother wasn't coming back. She had never intended to. She'd just abandoned her.
With a heavy heart and an empty stomach, Faye slowly got her feet and walked away from that park bench forever.
Looking back, the next few weeks were blurry and undefined in her mind. All she could remember is wandering; wandering endlessly, always searching in soup kitchens and garbage cans for her food and finding cardboard boxes to sleep in when it got cold. Her clothes got dirty and ragged and her hair started to get gnarly and tangled, but she couldn't think about any of that. She hardly ever had water to drink, none the less bathe with. During the night, she could remember fighting other street kids for the scraps of food from the dumpsters.
For the first time in her life, Faye didn't care about living.
But of course, that only lasted so long.
It was a dark night, and she'd just gotten back from the usual fight. This time, it had been Italian; or, in fact, their garbage cans. A dishwasher had spotted her and come out brandishing a broom menacingly, but he didn't follow her for long; only a minute or so. She'd been so concentrated on getting away she wasn't able to stop herself from slamming head on into a pedestrian.
"Hey, watch where ya goin', ya son of a bi-" her sentence caught in her throat halfway. The man she was looking up at was wearing a long, black trench coat and an angry scowl. But most of all he looked like he had power, and that could only mean one thing: full o' cash. And in this part of town, cash meant crime, so she wanted to get away as soon as possible. In two seconds, she was back on her feet, making for the other side of the street. . .
But he caught the hood of her sweatshirt.
"Hey!" he shouted as she tried to scream but couldn't as his other hand was covering her mouth. "Hey, c'mon . . . I'm not going to hurt you!"
For a couple seconds, she continued to struggle, and then felt a sharp prick on the back of her neck. With a start she realized what it was. It was a syringe; a syringe full of sedatives, no doubt. She struggled and struggled, trying to beat her way free, but he was too strong for her. In her mind, she could feel herself getting slowly more and more drowsy, and deep down, she knew he wouldn't be able to fight against it. Still, her lungs cried to scream and her muscles tried to resist, but it was no use, she was dropping farther and farther down . . . down . . . down. . .
To this day, she had know idea how many hours or perhaps even days passed, but when she awoke, the sky outside was dark. She was in a strange room lying on a strange bed where she had been asleep, and her clothes were gone, replaced by what felt like some sort of evening gown. Her skin felt fresh, as if she'd been washed. She couldn't tell if she were alone or not, but by instinct, she stayed quiet.
"You're such a lovely girl," a voice came from the door. "It's a shame to see you so afraid."
The silhouette of a tall, thin man was standing in the doorway. She gasped.
"You know, you cost me quite a bit, dearie."
She didn't respond. She wanted to run, but her legs didn't want to run, and even if she could, there was nowhere to go.
"I'm sorry," the stranger continued, "I must be confusing you. Let me explain. That sedative of yours . . . let's just say my clients were quite upset with me. Nearly got my neck for it. But it was all worthwhile . . . wasn't it?"
"What . . . what do you mean?" she asked, terrified.
"Oh, you know . . . I mean, you are a very beautiful girl. Stupendous body. It was quite enjoyable . . . you really were made to wear designer, you know? But everyone knows," he began to approach the bed, his voice getting more and more dangerous, "that there's no use in it until they're awake."
"Please! . . ." she yelped. "Please . . . please don't do this!"
"Now am I to believe you am being ungrateful?" he was now climbing onto the bed and over her body. "Believe me, dearest. . . I hate ungraciousness!!!" His hands dove under her dress. "But you know what? I don't care about what you have to say, missy!"
"No! No, don't! Please!" she tried to fight, but he forced her legs apart. "Don't! Please don't! I'll do anything, anything!"
"Darling, I think it's just a little too late for that!"
And she knew nothing more until she woke the next morning.
When she had found herself awake in the sunlight lying in a torn sparkly blue evening gown next to the naked pervert who had raped her, she spent very little time feeling sad. For some reason or another, she did not feel guilty at all. She looked down at the creature before her and disgusted him. He was out like a light. Maybe he'd O.D.'d. For the first time in her life, she realized that she actually wished someone else dead. Cautiously, she crept out of bed, and quietly, as not to wake him, crept out of the room.
First of all, she found the bathroom and took a shower. The foamy soap seemed to take away the disgusting feeling that she imagined all over her skin. However, she couldn't so easily forget the ugliness that was inside her. But, at least for the time being, she knew she would have to ignore it.
After the shower, she dried herself with a white fluffy towel, and then tied it around her waist as she went in search of some clothes. The dress was ripped, and the clothes she'd had had been ruined for weeks. For a while, she sat on the bathroom floor and wondered what to do about clothes, until broke upon the idea to look in the pervert's closet.
'Pervert' was too light of word for this guy, she soon learned. Apart from normal clothes, there were also several girl's outfits stashed in the back of his armoire, including underwear, bras, lingerie, and shoes. It disgusted her to imagine how many teenage girls he must have done this to before. She found a pair of underwear that was a little loose, but would have to do. One pair of jeans seemed to fit her pretty well, and one of the other girls must have been a c-cup as well. A silky black t-shirt with some unknown band on the front struck her fancy, and one pair of black sandals fit nicely. With one quick look in the mirror, she ran a brush through her hair a few times until she felt satisfied with her appearance.
Her mind began to turn to thoughts of money. Of course, she was going to run away, but where was she going to get any money? She started looking around the room.
"Jesus Christ," she said aloud, talking to herself. "Pervert got so much shitload of money and can't find a cent of it."
Where was it? She suddenly thought of something. Where did people hide things when they don't want anyone to find them?
There was only one answer, under the bed.
She found a large steel box behind a portrait of a naked woman, in between a couple of shoeboxes. With careful hands, she opened the lid. Inside, an amazing amount of sparkling gems and valuables of all sorts were glistening in the light of the sunrise. Hurriedly, she started to fill her pockets with them. Everything you could possibly imagine was here; gold coins, rings, diamond watches, giant emeralds, long strings of pearls, pendants of strange and interesting stones.on and on. She filled all her pockets until her jeans were starting to slide down her waist. There was almost nothing left in the box now, but she didn't care. He probably had all kinds of money, and she didn't have any pity for him anyway.
He still wasn't awake. Maybe dead. She didn't care. Without even one look back, she made her way out of that penthouse apartment and walked away forever.
* * *
From that day forward, Faye's perception of love, and indeed, sex, had been completely changed.
Of all the many men she had had relations with throughout her life; there had always been one element in all of them. In every single one, she had been involved in a sexual relation for one reason and one reason only; to get closer to power. Whether he'd been a gambling boss or a politician, she was always in it for her own gain. And now looking back, she realized something that she had never let herself know before.
Never, in her whole entire life, had she ever loved a man at all. Not even one bit. That was, until now. Until, just by accident, she had run out of gas one day while in orbit around Mars, and just dropped into his life, his life, this man, this space cowboy. And now, for the very first time in her life, Faye looked at the sleeping body beside her, and knew what she'd said was true.she loved him. She loved him. He meant more to her than anything. That's why she'd been so afraid. Afraid of his love. Afraid that he wouldn't love her back. Maybe afraid that he would. Afraid of her fears.and afraid of him, so deadly afraid.
Spike stirred slightly. His hand slid softly from her waist to her hip, his throat sighing softly. The pleasant sweep of his calm, hypnotic breath brushed through her hair.
"Hey," he sighed.
"Hey," she answered
Silence. Absolutely amazing, blissful silence.
"I had a nightmare."
"Yeah. Me too."
More silence.
"Sing to me . . . one more time." The phrase seemed to come out of all illogic, and yet seemed so right. So she did. It was a song she'd never, ever heard before. But somewhere, she knew the words, she knew the tune, and for the first time, she knew just why.
"If I had the chance
I'd whisk us away
Leave this deadly dance
On this dark holiday.
If I had the power
We would run so far
Watch the glorious flower
In this bed of stars
If we were the gods
We should know no pain
Sail this sea abroad
In the starlight rain
And our love would last
For the rest of time
The future and past
Immortal in this rhyme.
But for just tonight
Let me spend with you
In this gray twilight
We made perfect for two
Our time is brief
So we must take care
Let our love relieve
All that we can't bear
You can have my heart
If you ask it me
In this flowery art
Nothing comes for free
Since our mortal lives
Swing in the balance
We'll just stay alive
In this darkened romance
So take up my hand
Let your fears aside
In this dark wasteland
With a love so divine
With a love so divine
With a love so divine. . .
He was asleep, his rhythmic breath sighing on her neck. With a small, silent smile of pure pleasure, she nestled her head in his bushy, tussled green hair, the sweet smell of her beloved overcoming her senses as her eyes became heavier and heavier. She slowly felt herself fall deeper and deeper into the warmth and finally into the sweet abyss.