Guest: thank you so much, I was so glad to see that it was you. I'm also really glad that you are liking the story, it means I can do more than write for the Hobbit. As well as how I'm doing first person, cause it's completely new to me. And it's a different kind of story, one that's very personal with the character. And I've written over forty chapters to my star trek fic, which is this character, so I think that's helped in me getting deep down and personal with her feelings and being able to get inside her head. So I was so happy to hear that you're liking it, thanks again.
I think I knew something was wrong before it happened. Maybe all the warning signs I had been supprsessing were finally forcing their way known, maybe I could sense a change in him that I knew was off. But have you ever gotten that feeling that something was just not right, that something was about to end; that sick twist in your stomach of nerves or anticipation? That's what I felt. So that when everything finally did come crashing down I was shocked, but I was not floored. As though a part of me had been waiting for the big ta-da, the punchline, for reality to settle. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach, and even then I tried to ignore it.
It was a conversation, a single conversation that destroyed everything, and made it all clear. It was after the Enterprise had returned from her mission, Scotty having been the one to tell me since Jim was not speaking to me. Sometimes I don't know what I would have done without Scotty, he was my closest friend; the only one who seemed to understand why I had stayed, or at least not to blame me for it. I think Bones would have too, but he wasn't speaking to me either. The only person I had to offer no judgement, to not side with Captain James Tiberius Kirk, was John. I should have known that was a mistake, to be in a position where a man can rule over you; and I was never the kind of girl who people loved. I should have known from the beginning that I was only a ploy, only followng his plot.
Not much begging was in order for the chief of the hospital to let me stay, I was a promising young surgeon with a bright future ahead; he would be lucky to have me stay, at least that's what he said. And that settled it, I was given a position in the hospital. That was my post, my station; if you really knew me then you know that I loved being there more than anywhere else. I was a "cutter", as some called it. A surgical junky. It was my high and I needed it to survive - something John knew, found to be an amazing thing about me, that I was so focused so driven.
So when he told me, "You should request a transfer to Royal Children's Hospital," that was the moment when things began crashing. When my walls of refusal could not contain the warning signals about him any longer. This is the point in old movies where the woman gives a confused smile and a breathy laugh and asked what the handsome strange man is talking about, still hanging on to whatever illusion she has built around herself. An illusion similar to mine. But I have never been like most women.
Lucille Harewood, my mind raged. Thomas Harewood, archive, John, engineer, would you kill for him, what would you do if I told you I had killed for my family, stay with me, warning, warning. I felt a steel rod implant in my spine, sitting me stock straight as I pretended to continue reading through my book. I fooled no one. "Why is that?" I asked simply. Innocently; still trying for the nonchalant everything is fine act. My eyes flicked to the door, not even ten feet. John less than two as he laid on the bed I was sitting on the edge of.
"To take on Lucille Harewood as your patient," he told me easily, as though it were obvious. Only it was now becoming painfully obvious that I had missed everything, that I had been naive and blind. That I had blinded myself.
"Again," I said, my voice suprisingly even, "why is that?" I would make him answer me, he would tell me everything. I suppose it was then I just assumed he was not the person I had thought he was, had hoped he was. There was no benefit of the doubt, there never was with me. And so my body tensed on its own when he moved a fraction of an inch, the animal in me knownig the threat of danger and I was already lunging for the door.
I never stood a chance. "Oh come now Elenore," he laughed as he wrapped his arms around my waist, his voice dark and lethal, "you're too smart to believe you could actually escape."
I was left face to face to him, my chest heaving against his, his eyes more dangerous than they ever had been; and yet that look, you know the one - he looks at you so above you, so much better than you, I was nothing but an ant between his foot and the ground - those eyes were so familiar, because though I had never stared into them before I had seen that look hundreds of times when he stared at the people around us. But now those eyes were on me, and I could see past the facade he'd carved to the sinister maliciousness beneath. If I was any other woman, if I was not me, I would have trembled. I would have wept and begged him for my life, which I don't doubt would have been my death sentence. But I was strong, or so I told myself, so I stared at him defiantly and told him, "no."
His smile was dangerous, a slit on his handsome face it could not have been more gruesome had blood been pouring out. It was a smile that would haunt my dreams, wake me with a strangled scream and a chilled sweat. "Do you truly believe you have a choice?" he questioned, his eyes narrowed as he stared hard at my face, which I was sure was pale though it held firm. His arms were a lock around my back, my obedience the key if I was either smart or cowardly enough to do as he said.
"It makes no difference, I won't do it," I told him. I was stubborn, and his smile grew as his hand wound in my hair and pulled it so my throat was vulnerably exposed as I looked up at him.
"You should have screamed by now," he said softly, his voice a deep grumble I felt along my spine. What once had aroused me now brought me fear. "You know I will sooner kill you than let you go," he said tightening his arm like a coil, fisting my hair so he nearly pulled it out. "Then you are well aware that I am not asking."
This would be the point where the "bad guy" threatens the woman, maybe even assaults her in some way. He says things, horrifying things, to make her understand that should she act against him the consequences would be severe. But this was not one of the movies Jim and liked to watch and laugh about their ideas of the future. John said nothing, and his wordless threat might have scared me all the more. There were no words for what he could do to me, no string for a sentence for the endless possibilities - at least in my mind. But what I wanted to know more, what I needed to know more, was how could I have been fooled for so long. I was smart, intelligent, all my teachers and professors and collegues told me so. I should have known, I should have seen it or at least to have seen something coming, something to attest for all the intelligence I was said to have.
But like any woman blinded by what she believed to be love, I saw all of it and chose not to realize. I made the decision to believe the lie he wanted me to, the lie that I wanted me to believe. I let him take my heart, my loyalty, my morals, my life. I was not prepared for him. I did not know to fear the very thing that I had come to love.
So I'm trying something a bit new with my writing, I'm trying to make it a bit more poetic. So it's in the sense of how I word things, it's more illustrated, more ellaborate. Only I don't really know how I'm doing with it. So feedback would be amazing. Also, I'm so excited for him to now be fully honest with her about who he is, or at least to show her his true face.