Disclaimer: I have no affiliation with Criminal Intent or its creators. Me very, very poor and this is not for profit, so please find it in your wealthy but humble hearts to overlook this.
Authors note: A dry run for a concept I have had floating around in my head for a while involving persona switching, great funz! Math's exam 2morra and the next day, so I'm off to learn calculus. Happy days guys!
:) Please, please, please review!!
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Impenitence – Chapter 1.:*:.:*:.:*:.:*:.:*:.:*:.
I could see the slight tremble of his fingers. Unnerving. My eyes entranced as his hands tickle his thigh, draw in by the cyclic movements. Every now and then he would rub a grubby finger under my eyes, wiping the swelling tears. It felt so strange, like tears had no claim to the crevasses of my face, that I had forgotten how to cry. I never cried. I had tired of it when I was young. I could see it scared him; there was something very subtle about his fear. It seemed to grace his face with insouciance, the pain only blatant in the rare moments it overpowered him. When his chocolate eyes became their darkest and tense lines gathered around his face, and that's when I discovered his fear. I leaned my head back onto his chest, my ears eased by the furious beating beneath them. He grumbles in pain, his breathing was now uneven and coarse, but it's not over. He wipes the gun with his jacket, I watch him, he's smart. He walks ineptly to the shore, dunking his hand into the ocean and coating them in dry sand. He picks up the gun, and launches it into the ocean. He walks back and stretches out. Now its finished
"Adam…" I mumble, my arms looped around my bare legs, resting my head back onto his chest. He coughs. Once. Twice. The convulsions of his chest jolt my eyes open.
He groans, clearing his throat. I gaze at the sky, straining to make out stars that would diminish then burn to life again. The wind kicks up, spraying intricate particles into the air, a few illuminated by the moonlight. His fingers play with the sand, trying to pass the time until he can get up.
"You're bleeding." he remarks. I hadn't noticed his stare. He seemed so far away sometimes, like his eyes no longer travel the regions of our existence. He brushes a solitary finger along my lips, instantly staining it crimson. I wasn't surprised; I could taste the metallic pungency of blood burning my tongue.
"I bit my lip when you…" I didn't want to say it, "before." He shuffles, uncomfortable in his own skin, he never was right for all of this. He seems lie further to the ground with every second. "Adam, can we go? I'm cold." My jumper was tightly bound around his wound.
His eyes are pure dread, as he shakes his head in refusal he begins to pull off his jacket draped across his shoulders and sound arm, but I raise my hand, 'no thanks' and he pulls it back on. "Not now…Okay?" His eyes tell the story, his patience is gone, and you can't mess him around.
I nod, and sign an invisible agreement. "Why did you do it?"
He strains for another breath, and mutters. "He had it coming." His chest heaves under stress. "After what he did to you."
"I didn't want this, though. You won't get out of this, you know. It wasn't worth it." I look across at him, applying pressure to the gaping hole in his arm.
He winces. "You know me, I don't think." He replied, with a slight smile of comfort.
My fingers trace the wound that again fills with blood as I remove my jacket; he winces and then grins. Delicately, I survey the damage, my eyes catching a glint of ivory. "It's down to the bone."
His eyes become fascinated and he looks for himself. "You would think it would hurt more."
"Come on, we can get out of here. I can stitch that up."
He looks up with apprehension as I cover his hands in my own, and with a struggle I pull him to his feet. We walk to the car as I support his weight, my arms draped around his thin frame, feet dragging and his steps groggy from loss of blood and alcohol. He throws his head back against the seat, and gazes at the roof. "I don't regret it, Mia." He murmurs painfully, as I lean over him to do up his seat belt.
"I know."
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More Authors notes: hmmmm, now, the details of this crime will unfold in the next few chapters. I know it doesn't fit with the 'normal style' of crime - detectives - criminals - jail, but hopefully it will get clearer later, and it's all a bit cryptic, but I'm not the most coherent writer.