wow... this certainly went in an entirely different direction from what i ever expected. if i knew what terrible abuse i was going to put these poor characters through... well, this new installment is quite... unconventional. and very rated r. please review... my mind took me to unexpected--and darker--places; i'd like to know what you think.
Her deep lilac eyes were unfocused and unseeing, reflecting nothing--not even the foam that crested the waves on the beach. The lifeless gaze mocked the gentle rise and fall of her bare chest, sign that she was living, and breathing, in her chaotic nest of torn cloth that fanned out around the unadulterated whiteness of her skin, her limps sprawling limp among the shreds. The remains of her gown were just as snowy; in the dying moonlight, so was the sand, and the surf.
The only color of the scene was the red between her legs.
"Speak, damn you! Speak to me!"
It was Molly who found her, of course, found the cold body of the girl where it lay in the incoming tide, just another swirl of foam in the moody waters. She carried the slight burden inside, lay her charge upon the bed, and covered her with a blanket. Besides this, she did nothing.
He was touching her face, though she would not look at him.
"What do you see?"
He reached out and softly placed one long finger on her chin, turned her head to look at him. Again (but perhaps with another meaning): "What do you see?"
She was silent, in the moonlight, and her expression had not changed.
"I know you better than this. I know you love her. I don't approve of what you did to her before, but you did it because you love her..."
He placed the hand on her cheek now and pushed her face away, gently--but she could feel the boiling vat of anger and frustration and waylaid dreams behind the tenderness. "We love each other," he said to her, his voice also seeting with that same dangerous combination. "I have done everything to get you back, and I have--and I know you love me too. I know it."
"You wanted her back. You thought it would fix everything."
"I know it! God damn you, I know it!"
"But that was violence. Sheer violence."
She flinched at his touch; she couldn't help it. All that ire... she couldn't help it.
He drew back--that hurt, too. He said, "Why do you shiver at my touch? If you must shiver, should it not be a shiver of passion--of love? Yet you tense as though--as though I disgust you." His words were bitter--that hurt, too.
"I knew your obsession was unhealthy, but I thought it was understandable. I thought because it was understandable, it must be... allowed to run its course. I didn't think... I thought I knew you better than that."
It was too much for her, too much to take for a shell that was too full to be mindless and too empty to be complete; she turned her face away, and her white hair whipped all around her in the sea breeze.
"She's... she's not the one you love. Not like this. Not like the half-living creature you had Schmendrick create for you. God... don't you know how much he regrets that? If he could kill himself and make her whole again, he would do it."
She knew he was going to do it before he did. She felt the lancing pain of the arrows his words formed.
"Why won't you speak to me? Frigid... frigid BITCH!"
Had he ever spoken like that? To her? To anyone? There was too little of her within this half to care.
"What she is now... there are only bits and pieces of woman within her. She's not Amalthea anymore. And what you did to her... My God..."
There was pain, and there were bruises. She heard cloth rip. When it was over, she lay in the sand, still lacking enough self.
"My God, Lir. That was rape."
to be continued...