Warning dear readers, this Chapter contains a description of rape and violence. Beware.
Anything in italics is a memory, () means internal thought. Enjoy!
2016
Tossing her shoes and socks aside, Simone stepped onto the worn exercise mat wearing nothing but her scrubs.
(Weird how they even feel like inmate uniforms)
She quickly untied her hair, letting it settle generously around her shoulders. As Michael finished putting on his more detailed uniform and stood before her, she handed him a sheet of paper.
"Just read it all the way through and repeat twice. By that time the drug will have taken effect enough for the last part", clearing her throat, she continued. "Try to stay away from the face".
"Gotcha" he said, sliding the baton into place on his belt. "Ready?"
(Am I? Ready? Belle…)
Her soft answer echoed though the quiet room.
"Yes".
The injector full of the Memo/Sacriset mixture in hand, Michael pressed it to her neck, watching the blue fluid disappear into Simone. He then slipped a remote out of his pocket, and activated the camera in the corner.
Holding her shirt with his other hand, he steadied her as the injection coursed through her system. When she finally stopped shaking, he let her sway in place and stepped back. Grinning at the paper in his hand, Michael crumpled it and threw it away in disdain.
(I've heard this fucking story so much it could be tatooed on my dick. Now for a little…spice. And some fun. Why stick to the script, right Mikey?)
Pacing around the swaying figure, he clasped his hands behind his back in delight.
"Name! Last name first!"
"What…?"
At her groggy answer, he stepped forward and swung a fist into her stomach. A small smile crossed his face as she dropped heaving to her knees on the mat. He spoke softly, squatting beside her as she gasped for breath.
"You aren't in class anymore Professor. This is the Los Angeles County Jail, your home for as long as the Senator wants to keep you here…"
"Wait, you can't do this, I haven't been charged…"
At her temerity, he stood and delivered a swift kick into her ribs, abruptly flipping her onto her back. Sneering into her pain ridden face he continued, "First of all, don't ever interrupt me again. You stupid bitch, you think laws apply to her? Did you really think the Senator was just going to be ok with some pervert teacher fucking her little girl every night? Her aide said she was most…unhappy…after she got that phone call. Especially since this is an election year…I have free license on your ass bitch. You've been in your little school too long."
"I…love..her. Nothing…you can do…will…change that" Wheezing, Simone fell into silence as the next kick lifted her off the floor.
(Nothing? We'll see about that! Little bitch)
Eyeing her curled form impassively, Michael considered her. "Impressive words. Won't last long. I think a night in the common dorms might help with your…disposition. Especially when they hear what you're in here for…other criminals tend to have a...jaded outlook on child molesters…Those women can be vicious."
"She loves me, and I don't expect you to understand" Simone interrupted, staring at him belligerently. A cruel hand grabbed her jaw, stretching her neck uncomfortably.
Very softly he replied. "Bitch, by the time you're done in here, she won't know you" His touch abruptly turning caressing as he stroked her cheek. "Of course, if you decide to be…nice…to me, you and I could come to a little arrangement. One that the Senator would never have to know about. She thinks you're getting the shit kicked out of you, and no one is the wiser." Rubbing the fabric stretched tight over his crotch, Michael bent close to her shaking form, "I'll show you mine if you show me yours" he said with a leer.
Simone jerked back, contempt written across her face. "You're disgusting. I want…"
His open palm cracked across her face, throwing her to the floor. "For a teacher, you're kind of slow, arentcha? Let me spell it out for you Doc, no one gives a shit what you want. Least of all me." Circling the shivering form before him, he bent down, rubbing one of her soft, golden curls between his fingers. "Last chance Doc. Here's the Senator's deal. Take it, and you can walk out of here right now."
"What deal?" Simone said, spitting blood onto the floor before she slumped against the wall.
"You don't see Annabelle, you don't talk to her, you forget about her. The Senator will even give you a free ride, free job to wherever you want to go. But absolutely no contact with her daughter. Ever again. You disappear."
He was disconcerted to see Simone give a small smile, wincing as it pulled the fresh bruises forming on her face. "Or?"
"Or, you stay here until you're…convinced…to take the deal, walking out slightly worse for wear. Or crawling. Or rotting meat in a baggie. One way or another Doc, the Senator will get what she wants. Be thankful her aides reminded her of the potential political fallout of your untimely death and the front page exclusive Annabelle would give them. You're lucky you're not in a dumpster already." Squatting by her again, he grabbed her jaw, gripping hard enough to leave new bruises. "Do we have a deal?"
Staring at him, eyes watering from the pain, Simone very deliberately leaned forward; close enough for him to feel the warmth of her skin on his face. And whispered, "Never."
(bitch is stubborn, just like the first time)
Pulling back, she continued, contempt dripping from every word. "I will never deny her, or what I feel for her. Beat me, threaten me, kill me, but I am hers. Just as she is mine. Distance doesn't separate us. I. Love. Her."
(you're mine you've always been mine mine mine mine MINE MINE!)
Tracing the blossoming bruises on her jaw, he grinned. "Wrong answer Doc. Thank you". His fist rushed through the air, the impact keeling her flat on the floor in a daze.
He quickly flipped her body, jerking off her loose pants and underwear. A well placed kick whooshed the air out of his lungs as Simone began to fight back in earnest. Regaining some air, he drew his baton and struck her behind the knees as she tried to get past him, the blow taking her legs out from under her. As he bent over her, her nails raked over his face and neck, with only his quick reflexes saving an eye. Another violent punch to her midsection dropped her on the floor again. Straddling her stunned form, he grabbed her hair and slammed her head down on the mat until she finally went limp.
Enraged at the blood he saw dripping from his face,
(fucking cunt hurt us, HURT US!)
Michael quickly stripped off his clothes. Using his handcuffs, he cuffed Simone's hands around the leg of the couch. The equipment belt landed heavily nearby as he grabbed a vial of smelling salts, wafting it under her nose until she began to come to.
(wakey wakey!)
Wedging his inner belt in her mouth, he tightened the impromptu gag. Stroking himself, barely able to contain his anticipation, he watched her, using his knee to wedge her legs apart. Bracing himself, thick and ready before her, he waited until she became fully conscious, and began to yank at the handcuffs around her wrists.
(MINE!)
The minute her eyes found his, he savagely drove himself into her. Eyes unfocused, he continued to brutally work his body against hers, leaving bruises where he clenched her hips. Hearing her scream with the pain of the assault, he backhanded her into temporary silence, continuing to slam into her as she fought against him.
He began to pound deeper and deeper as blood from torn tissues smoothed his way. Noticing that she was growing quiet, expression going vacant, he grabbed the nearby injector and gave her the second shot.
(mine mine all mine! Time to go down the rabbit hole Alice!)
Michael grunted with pleasure and pulled out of her, setting her onto her hands and knees. He positioned himself, and waited until she realized he was behind her before jerking her backwards and slamming forward at the same time, sinking hilt-deep into her ass. Even with the gag, her shrieks were earsplitting. Pulling almost all the way out before surging forward again, this continued until he gave a final grunt, spurting deep within the woman beneath him. Panting from his exertions, he finally withdrew and wiped off the residual blood.
2006
With a grunt, the last in a series of inmates was pulled off of her, protesting all the while that he wasn't finished. Contemptuously, he threw the used condom onto the sprawled body on the floor of the cell, loudly proclaiming, "I fucked that fucking whore!" as he was hustled away. The door swung shut behind him, locking into place with a dull thud.
The smell of dirty concrete gradually filtered into Simone's senses, easing past the darkness of the cell. She could hear inmates banging in the distance, their muffled shouts a counterpoint to the agony beating through her.
Shying away from thought, Simone could feel the concrete leeching the warmth from her naked body. She inadvertently tensed as footsteps walked past her cell door, only relaxing when she dully realized they had continued down the corridor long before.
(die here want to die not here never here die here now die)
Her jagged thoughts lurched into another rail of almost coherent thought as her body began to shiver from the cold.
(quiet they'll come they'll hear quietquietquietquiet)
Whimpering almost soundlessly from the pain, she began to inch towards the bunk, leaving a smeared trail of blood and other fluids. Pain sank into her wrist, and only the scraping sound
(bones? Smaller softer sounds softer)
finally drew her attention. Staring at her lacerated, bloody wrist, she at first couldn't understand what she was seeing. Wiping away blood, she rubbed the first bead clean, remembering how they got there.
"Ah, fuck man" the first guard said, "c'mon, we don't have time for this! Just leave them!
Angrily rubbing his jaw where the prisoner had landed a lucky punch before he knocked her head against the wall, the other guard continued to try and pry the beads from the semi-conscious woman's hand. "Shit, Pete, these aren't those cheap plastic beads! They gotta be worth somthin'!" Frustrated, he gave a vindictive kick to the woman's ribs.
"Jack, come on! Quit fuckin' around with the bitch! You had your turn…"
"yeah, sloppy seconds don't even cover it" Jack muttered.
"Let's go already! This whole fuckin' thing gives me the creeps!" Pete said, pocket change jiggling as he shifted, peering nervously out into the hallway. Hearing nothing but silence, he turned around to see his partner savagely twisting the woman's wrist. "Jack, what the fuck?"
The shadowed, caged lighting dimly glinted off the beads as they were wound and jerked around her wrist, yanked tight enough they began to cut through the skin.
"If I can't have 'em, no one else is going to fuckin' get 'em either".
They had been the first two after the One, the man whose memory made her mind still gibber in shock. Even after the first rape, she had refused to renounce Annabelle. When the next two guards had tired of her, and her answer had remained the same, inmates began to come into the cell. Men, women, they were all a pained blur; only random snapshots of each invaded her brain. After each, they had asked her the question again, and each time it remained the same. And the next would come in, with the door locking shut behind them.
Curling into a ball, she clenched to wrist to her chest, driving the beads in further.
(not here not here she's not here never here thank god she's not here never here not here)
2006
Turning from the video monitor which provided a live feed from the cell, the white-faced aide rushed to the trashcan in the corner of the room, barely making it before his dinner came up. The sounds of his vomiting were loud, and filled the room as surely as the cigarette fog he waded though.
What had started as lazy smoke trails had congealed as cigarette after cigarette met their demise at the red lips of the older woman seated in the middle of the room. It had been over 18 hours since they had entered this room within the prison, and her eyes were still avidly fixed to the monitor.
"Ask her again"
The words were wreathed in smoke, the command instantly obeyed. Another aide spoke discreetly into the radio, and on the screen a guard entered the cell, and approached the huddled figure on the bunk. Rubbing her dirty curls between his fingers as she shrank away, he spoke softly as he squatted by the bunk.
"Do you take the deal chickie, or do I send in another one?"
As no answer was immediately forthcoming, the silence drew the attention of everyone in the room. Out of eyeshot, the still nauseated aide crossed himself, praying that this nightmare would finally come to an end.
So faint it was barely inaudible, the answer came.
"No."
With a sigh, the room leaned back. The Senator twirled her cigarette, and gave a new considering, glance at the monitor where the prisoner was again clenching her bead-wrapped wrist.
"Alan, tell them to wait on the next one. Get Bradley into clothes and put her into the surveillance side of one of the interrogation rooms." Standing from her chair, she moved closer, studying the image that was barely an inch from her face.
"When you have that done, get my daughter. Make sure to keep Annabelle separate from Bradley, is that clear? I don't even want her to know her…lover…is behind the mirror." Finally stepping away from the monitor, she made her way out the door. "Call me when it's ready".
2006
Simone was sat down hard in the metal chair, a restraining hand on each of her shoulders.
(she's not here never here ever here)
The agony making her curl over, she tried not to move any more than necessary as her wounds broke open against the uniform. She was dully aware of other people entering the room, but kept her gaze fixed on the floor. Only when she heard the voice she had alternately dreaded and begged to hear within her own fractured mind did her eyes jerk up in shock.
"Motherfucker, get off of me!"
Stumbling as she was shoved into the interrogation room, Annabelle gave the handless door a kick as it was quickly shut behind her. Pacing over to the mirror that stretched the length of the wall, she hit it with the palm of her hand.
"Mother! I know you're in there! I know you have her you fucking bitch! You hurt her and I'll fucking kill you, do you hear me! I swear to Christ if…"
The speaker was abruptly shut off, leaving Simone watching Annabelle soundlessly rail within the confines of the room.
"Fascinating, isn't she?"
A woman is a black power suit stepped into her view. Taking a drag of her cigarette, she exhaled while still studying Annabelle.
"She gets that from her father you know, that passion. He was the same way, always said,' why go around when you can go through'? The voters loved him."
Settling against the glass, the woman faced Simone. Dark hair brushed over her shoulders, accentuating her compact frame. "As for me, I love the voters. And what I know the voters will not love is the scandal of my daughter fucking her significantly older female teacher. Not even in California, and not for my upcoming presidential run in a few years. Can't win the South with a queer daughter and her, "partner". Not in this lifetime."
Cocking her head, she continued. "You're a quandary Bradley. I can't just have you killed, which would sink my career just as quickly as my daughter dancing in your Pride Parade. Nor do I think your aunt would take kindly to that insult. But, I also can't have you being a…temptation…to Annabelle, and so far, you've proven quite stubborn about giving her up. Unless you've decided to take my offer?" At Simone's negative head shake, "I thought not. Well perhaps it is time to a change in tactics... Alan." The Senator stood and moved behind Simone, her heels snapping against the concrete floor.
At her word, the door to Annabelle's interrogation room opened, and two guards, dwarfed by the inmate shackled between them, entered. The tableau still soundless, Simone watched in horror as they began to unlock his handcuffs, Annabelle yelling and putting the table between them.
The Senator's voice came calm and deadly from behind her. "Don't mistake me Bradley, or think this is some type of bluff. I've sacrificed better people than you to get where I am today, and beyond being occasionally useful, I will have no hesitation about throwing Annabelle on the pyre. I suggest you make your decision, and quickly, before she has a new experience in life".
Numb with shock and horror, Simone saw the cuffs fall free and the inmate start towards Annabelle as the guards left, closing the door behind them. Simone found herself on her feet, hands pressed against the glass as she watched Annabelle hit the man with a chair, and get thrown hard into the wall in return.
(NO! BELLE!)
Clenching her eyes shut, she made the decision and felt something vital break deep within her chest. Shoving her screaming soul deep within the recesses of her mind, she opened her eyes.
"Stop" she whispered, forehead braced against the glass.
"What was that Bradley?"
Raising her head, Simone watched the scene deteriorate within the room. "I have certain stipulations, but I agree to your proposal Senator. Get him out of there."
"There is no negotia…"
"There is now. Your problem will still be solved, even with my conditions. Get him out of there Senator or the deal's off".
"Alan." At that, the two deputies rushed back into the interrogation room, pulling the inmate away from Annabelle. Quickly, but intently scanning Annabelle, Simone let loose a sigh of relief as she saw only a torn shirt and minor bruises.
(thank god)
Simone limped her way from the mirror to her chair, leaning a hand on it to steady herself. Face eerily blank, she addressed the Senator, uncaring of the blood dripping on the floor.
"My terms are these Senator. In exchange for me disappearing from Annabelle's life, you will do the following.
Annabelle is no longer a bargaining chip for you, in any way, shape or form. You will let her live her own life, with no interference from you. I see you or any of your staff anywhere near her, I involve the media, and my aunt in this…situation."
Leaning back in a comfortably padded chair, the Senator nodded her agreement. "She will need to be contacted when her Trust matures..."
"In only that instance, your attorneys may contact her". Seizing on an idea, Simone continued, "but her friend, Kristin Douglas, must be there as well".
The Senator raised an eyebrow quizzically at Simone. "Fine. Annabelle is almost graduated anyway. Done. What else?"
(How can she just…later Bradley. Think, what else?)
Her vision graying, Simone shakily sat down. Unconsciously stroking the beads, she continued. "Before I leave tonight, I get time alone with her to say goodbye."
"Absolutely not!" responded the Senator immediately. "That will only…"
"…give her a reason to hate me". Simone finished. "You know how stubborn she is Senator; do you really think she'll ever stop looking unless I give her reason to?"
After a moment, the Senator nodded her acquiescence. "True", the Senator said grudgingly. "Although how you will do it, looking like you do, is a mystery to me. Just keep in mind Bradley, her immediate and continued well being is in your hands."
"That, Senator, I'll never forget. Do we have a deal?"
"We do Bradley. That's all you want?" the Senator asked, eyeing Simone curiously.
With a shaking hand, Simone covered her eyes, trying to ignore the soul-splitting agony in her heart. "One more thing. She never hears about any of this. Ever."
(never ever see her be here safe she's safe never here never again)
"Of course. When do you want your time with her?" the Senator said dismissively, glancing at her watch.
Simone's eyes and voice were flat as she looked at the Senator. "After I have a shower and clean clothes. Send a medic in there to see to any injuries she may have, but leave her in the room. I'll also need two deputies…"
"Whatever you need Bradley, but, this has taken enough of my time already. I'll leave Steven here, just give your requests to him. I'll be on my way, and I sincerely hope we never meet again." Leading a train of aides and assistants, the Senator left the room.
Looking at Annabelle pacing in the room beyond, Simone whispered, "We won't Senator."
-
2006
The pool of light sank into the warm wooden floor of the stage, spilling out and edging into the wings. The impatient rustlings of the theatre faded away as Annabelle calmly walked out onto the center of the stage, perfect in the night blue tunic and hose of her character. With a small shake, she settled her gently pulled back hair around her shoulders before raising her eyes to Simone's. Blue held blue as a smile briefly returned Simone's own. Like the velvet of the curtains around her, Annabelle's soft, strong voice enveloped the auditorium.
"Be cheerful, sir.
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep."*
Her voice had barely whispered silent before the audience rose in thunderous applause. Simone stood smiling, watching Annabelle break out in a wide smile as the piercing whistles from the balcony almost drowned out the applause. As the house lights came up, the evening dress of parents and students colored the theatre, gold and diamonds throwing out sharp sparkles of light. Squinting uncomfortably against the now glaringly bright stage lights, Simone instinctively raised a hand in an effort to shade her eyes. The applause grew still louder, the lights brighter, as she stood there dazzled.
The glistening white tile blindingly bright under the institutional lights, Simone clenched her eyes shut as the hot water pounded down on her. She was on her second bar of soap,
(how long?)
And her mind kept skipping like a worn needle on a bad record. Scrubbing the soap
(on a rope shall dissolve on a rope a our little life dope soap rope sleep baseless fabric)
she felt her water-wrinkled hands scrub between her thighs again.
(can't get it off, still feel them, can't get it off, it won't come off!)
She dimly remembered
(Steven?)
bringing her to the showers, and left her with the worn towel, soap and her clothes.
"Chickie…"
(Shall dissolve, no solve, shallshallno dissolve Bradley no no)
Whimpering away from the liquid voice in her head, she covered her ears and curled further into the wall.
"I'll show you mine if you show me yours…"
(nononononotagainno)
"Bitch!"
Bursting into motion, Simone scrubbed mercilessly at her skin again causing half-closed wounds to open again, tinting the draining water pink.
(no I can't can't go away please go away no can't not clean get clean god help I can't)
Exhausted, Simone came back to herself some time later, mechanically rubbing the last sliver of soap against her skin.
(Have to give her up Bradley make her leave have to hurt her enough to make her hate Bradley me hate me. Love her. Belle…)
Keening her agonizing need, Simone curled on her side, the lukewarm water raining down on her huddled form.
(Are melted into air, into thin air)
His eyes brimming with tears, Steven rested his head against the shower observation glass. In his time with the Senator, he had been exposed to the seedy underworld of politics; destroying an opponent's life was nothing new.
(but she's not an opponent. Not even close. What they did to her…)
The complete and utter evil brutality he had witnessed in that observation room had made him physically sick. As punishment for his "weakness", he had been left behind to finalize the details of the Senator's deal.
(worked with her long enough to know better)
Unaware of the tears now running down his face, he looked though the glass again at the battered figure huddled on the floor. He was used to his job taking him right up to the line, but this…
(dear God in heaven. this isn't even politically right, this isn't even fucking human what the Boss did, Jesus Christ, look at her! The line isn't even in fucking sight man! Shit, the Boss just went fucking crazy when she got that call...)
Annabelle had been in trouble so many times before that no one thought it out of the ordinary when the headmistress called. In fact, other than a few rolled eyes, most of the entourage were impressed that she had lasted as long as she had. When the Senator took the phone, money changed hands as several bets were finally closed.
But the sudden…noise…that had come out of the Senator had silenced the entire room. Her face had just gone…blank, before twisting into fury as the tinny voice of the headmistress echoed out of the receiver. After she hung up, the Senator had given instructions that still echoed in his head, "Alan, cancel the rest of my appointments, I need to be in Los Angeles as soon as possible. Tell the forward security team there to detain a Mrs. Simone Bradley immediately; they can find her at Annabelle's school. Do it now."
They had been out of the hotel within 5 minutes, briefcases and luggage hastily thrown into the waiting limo. Within the hour, they were flying over San Francisco's Golden Gate Bridge towards Los Angeles.
Motion within the shower area recaptured his attention, and he watched Simone shakily lurch to her feet, trailing a steadying hand against the slick wall. As she finally reached her clothes, he watched with mounting horror as she began to fumble on the torn and bloodstained garments without hesitation. Only dirty scuffs marred her jeans, but the shirt…what had started out as an ordinary red pullover had stiffened through caked blood into a maroon monstrosity. As he watched, Simone struggled it on, scattering flakes and larger chunks of…matter…in a brief mist that settled on the wet floor like a bloody rain. The cut flesh of her wrist was pale against the confining beads.
The forward security team had been successful in detaining Bradley, and was waiting for them at the private landing strip at Los Angeles International. From there, the cavalcade had wound its way to the Los Angeles County Jail, where he had seen the quietly defiant teacher escorted through the main gate. Once inside though…
(Favors make the world go round)
Shying away from the memory, Steven was suddenly aware that Bradley hadn't moved for several minutes. She was sitting on the shower floor again, staring blankly into space as the pooled water soaked through her jeans. Unable to watch anymore, he turned around in the confined space, desperately trying to think of what to do next.
(Shit. She's not even *there*, here and gone again. Can't take her to the hospital, Boss would take her chances with Bradley's voodoo fucking aunt. And I gotta make sure she finishes the deal, or I'm dead…)
Coming to a stark realization, Steven's mind traced the cracked lines in the cinderblock wall.
(I just…I can't do this.)
Shaking his head,
(If she's this bad now, she'll be worse after her meeting with Annabelle. Letting her leave like that would be a fucking death sentence, oh…of course. Of course.)
Almost slapping his forehead at his own stupidity
(Ah…which the Boss already knew, she had no intention of Bradley just, "disappearing")
Steven's mind shifted into overdrive, as he stared through the window. Minutes stretched into an hour as he studied the shivering figure. Coming to a decision, he flipped his cell phone from his pocket and made a brief call.
(Fuck. This has to work)
The door thumped shut behind him as he stepped into the hallway and motioned to the nearby deputy.
"Get Bradley and put her in the back of my car. Make sure the driver puts up the privacy glass, I don't want her talking to anyone." At the deputy's short nod, Steven hastily straightened his jacket as he walked down the hall to the observation room.
(Here we go)
Taking a deep breath, he opened the door to furious blue eyes. With a curt nod, he dismissed the nearby deputy before taking a seat across the table from Annabelle. Inwardly sighing, he recognized the set line of her bruised jaw and the slow tapping of her ring against the metal of the tabletop. The torn cuffs of her shirt tugged along the links of the handcuffs securing her to the table as she leaned forward.
*Tink. Tink. Tink.*
"Where is she?"
*Tink. Tink.*
"Annabelle, we need…"
"Where. Is. She." With palms flat on the table, Annabelle's blue eyes bored into his own.
(C'mon Marcel!)
The first time he had met Annabelle she was 8. The entire household was frenetically busy with the Senator's first campaign, and no one paid any attention to, much less had time for, the small girl he sometimes glimpsed around the house.
Himself a new staffer to the then Mrs. Tillman, he had spent most of his time running errands and fulfilling the other "low man" duties. He and Annabelle had become wary acquaintances by virtue of dismissal; she from her mother, and he from the rest of the political operatives.
Over the months leading up to the election, he became aware that while the child was physically eight years old, no one who lived in that house could keep their innocence for long. Even, or perhaps especially, children. Of slight stature and quiet demeanor, Annabelle usually went unnoticed.
The scary thing hadn't been her presence at their strategy sessions, or "war councils" as Mrs. Tillman liked to refer to them. He frequently saw Annabelle sitting in a corner, or shadowed beside the hulking pieces of mahogany furniture dispersed throughout the study. No, that wasn't what unnerved him the most, what still made him see those ancient, heavy eyes whenever he read about her more recent, teenage, exploits.
It was that she listened. And not only did she listen, but she understood. Annabelle fully comprehended the strategy they were going to use to finish off her mother's opponent. Bryerson, the incumbent and an old political adept, had easily avoided the attempts of Mrs. Tillman's smear campaign, and still lead the race by 20 points.
With the election less than a month away, they had all been desperate. Desperate enough that when Alan hired Hanley a, "political contractor", no one objected.
Hanley had come to the Tillman residence to give his progress report and that was the one time Steven had seen the beginnings of who Annabelle would become.
The study had been dark, light from the presentation screen at the head of the conference table gleaming off eyeglass frames and polished furniture. Ready for another report of how Hanley had found some new leverage on Bryerson, no one in that room, except perhaps for Mrs. Tillman, had been ready for the type of leverage Hanley provided. Used to bribery and blackmail attempts already, what Hanley had brought to the table was…new. To Steven anyway.
Hanley had leaned back in his chair as he clicked though the pictures of Bryerson's son, Nathan. "Using the parameters you set, I endeavored to find Bryerson's weak spot. The two older daughters are actually happily married, so there wasn't any room there. Jack is still in the Navy, and currently deployed overseas, so again, no opportunity. The other son, though, Nathan, well, I hit the jackpot with him."
Using the remote, Hanley began a video. A teenage boy, around 16 years old, grinned at the camera before the camera angle widened showing a bedroom. The desk by Nathan held a baggie of dirty yellowish substance, a glass pipe and a lighter. Hanley's voice was heard behind the camera.
""You were talking pretty big back at the park Nate…"
With a snort, Nathan tapped some of the crystal into the pipe.
"Uh-huh. Empty bullshit is your bag George. That rolling?" The picture wobbled momentarily as an affirmative nod was given. Addressing the camera, Nathan continued in a mock-serious voice. "Now, kids, don't try this at home" With another grin, he continued. "At least not while your parents are home. They catch you doing this and they'll bust your shit." With an eye on the camera, Nathan held the lighter in one hand and the filled pipe in the other. "Watch and learn".
"Are you sure that stuff is clean?" Hanley asked, just before lighter met glass.
Nathan paused and rolled his eyes at the question, "YES George, for the millionth time, it's from my Dad's stash. He only gets the prime shit. Now shut the fuck up will you?"
The room had watched. And learned, all the way from Nathan's first sizzling puff until he finally passed out directly in front of the camera, slumped over the desk and drooling. Only when a fairly sizable puddle had accumulated did Hanley pause the tape..
"It's not a very well kept secret that the kid had a drug problem a couple years back. The family did the intervention, sent him to counseling, the whole nine yards. No one knew he still had it, much less that he inherited it from Dad."
Almost drooling himself, Alan Parker leaned forward, eyes fixed on the frozen image. "Fantastic work George, absolutely wonderful. Right in time for the next news cycle, we can get it to…"
"But that's his secret" a quiet voice came from the foot of the table. Like a ghost, Annabelle had suddenly appeared, face tense with frustration. "He thought you were his friend, and that's his secret!" The room fell silent as all eyes turned to Mrs. Tillman.
After a considering pause, she spoke. "Annabelle, unfortunately, is right Alan. It would be quite useful footage, but it isn't as if George is unknown in our world. What chance is there of it backfiring on us?"
Gesturing at the screen, Alan replied with a tight glance at Annabelle, "Almost zero. No one is going to care about the guy behind the camera with THAT to watch. Even if someone does pick up on it, so what? Doesn't change the fact that the kid is doing crack from his old man's stash. We CAN'T afford not to take advantage of this opportunity! Bryerson's already done his victory lap for Chrissake!"
There had been no more argument after that. Looking around while the rest of the group hammered out the release details, Steven was in time to see Annabelle slip out the study door. Mumbling to his colleague that he would be right back, he grabbed her coat and followed her to the autumn chilled back garden. Taking a seat beside her on the cold, wrought iron bench, he silently handed her the bright pink jacket.
Could find her in the middle of the Met if she was wearing that!
Quiet reigned as both watched the wind thread its way through the loose leaves blowing over the pavers. Random wind devils threw up the leaves a few inches, rushing around the garden in blank haste.
Uncomfortable, and not quite sure what he was doing there, Steven cleared his throat. "Annabelle, Nate,..um, Nathan will be ok. Think of it this way, he'll finally get the help he needs…um, his dad too." At the continued silence, he stumbled to a halt.
Great. Freaked out by the Kiddy of the Corn
He was startled as Annabelle suddenly turned to him, sitting cross-legged on the bench, studying him as her wrist scrubbed the tears away. A small hand clenching a wadded tissue, she finally spoke.
"You seem nice. You shouldn't be here." Continuing to wipe her dripping nose, she cocked her head. "You'll either be a man-eater or a zombie". Eyeing him critically, "I think zombie, but I thought Alan would be a zombie and he's a man-eater…why are you here? You don't seem mean" she asked with a sniffle.
"What? I…, Annabelle…" confronted with her teary deep blue eyes, he was honest for the first time since he had stepped through the Tillman's front door months ago. "I want to change things, make them better…"
"Have you?" Blue eyes, seeing right through him.
"Not yet, but sometimes you have to wait to help people…" he began as she screwed up her face in disagreement.
"My Daddy says you can't wait to help people, that they need help now and not later. When I climbed too high and got stuck" she said with a gesture at the massive oak at the edge of the garden, "my daddy came and got me right then." Eyeing him suspiciously, "why would you wait to help someone in trouble? That's mean!"
now I remembered why I'm not having kids
Not quite knowing how he got on the wrong end of a conversation with an 8 year old, he desperately thought of his own childhood.
Um…, well maybe, yeah, ok, yeah, she'll like that! Hell, maybe it will make her feel better about the whole thing…hah, maybe it'll make me feel better about it
"Well then Annabelle", he started nervously, clearing his throat. "My, um…daddy, um, he told me a story once…would you like to hear it?" At her hesitant nod, he continued.
His ass already well on its way to numb, Steven shifted and made himself more comfortable.
"It was almost November at the North Pole, and it still hadn't snowed. Being so dependent…"
"What's depident?" Annabelle said, huddling into her coat.
"It means they have to have it. Now, as I was saying, they needed the snow for their water and as the level in their water tank dropped…"
"Why did they have a tank for water? Couldn't they just go to the kitchen if they were thirsty?"
"Um, no. Um, things work differently in the North Pole, so…"
"But…"
"Annabelle Marcel Tillman" he said, in his best adult voice. "Now shush, and listen to the story".
With a pouting lip, she fell quiet, waiting for him to continue.
"As I was saying, they…uh, needed the snow for their water, and as the level in the water tank continued to drop, the townspeople became more and more worried. As the snow still didn't come, they finally set out to ask for help from the strongest people they knew.
They went to Santa's Workshop first to talk to Santa, and asked if he could help make the snow come. He replied that he couldn't stop making presents, he didn't have the time, and he needed every second between now and Christmas. That's when he whistled for Rudolph, jumped on the sled and flew away to check on his elves.
Now Annabelle, this really surprised the townsfolk. While they loved the toys Santa gave out every year, they needed the water from the snow much more. But, since Santa wouldn't help them, they hoped even more for Frosty the Snowman to help them. If anyone could, it would be the man made out of snow! They walked and walked to Frosty's home, which was deep in a cave so he could stay frozen all year long. With chattering teeth, they made the same request of Frosty.
To their dismay, Frosty gestured to the mound of carrots beside him, and the growing pile of peeled carrots behind him. He replied that he had to provide the carrots for all the snowmen of the world. To take the time to help the snow come would set him too far behind, because what is a snowman without a carrot as a nose? With a merry wave, he wished them well in their quest before trimming yet another carrot.
Now the townspeople were sad and getting scared. With heavy feet, they began the walk back to town. Picturing their children's thirsty faces, they made one last stop at a cluttered clearing on the edge of town that they usually avoided.
A junk yard of greeted them. Lots of things of all shapes and sizes poked out of the fresh mud; there were long wooden cedar poles topped with bicycle wheels and even what looked to be a big tree covered in chicken wire. A tall, silver haired man hummed to himself as he positioned a bent metal picture frame against a tottering pile of rocks.
The bravest among them came forward, and asked the same question. To the surprise of the group, the tall silvery man immediately agreed to help. Leading the group, they hiked to the tallest meadow on the mountain, where with great ceremony the man removed his shoes and shirt, giving them to one of the villagers.
Then he began to dance.
He danced among the trees, the rocks, the little stream and the long grass, asking for the snow to come. He danced for hours, sweat running down his face as the sky grew cold and dark with clouds. As the wind began to howl and the townsfolk retreated to the forest's edge, he continued to dance, flickering in and out of the shadows.
And then a single, solitary, snowflake fell. And then a second. Then a third. And suddenly, it was snowing.
And the man still danced.
Only when the world was completely white with blizzard did the exhausted man stumble back."
Enthralled by Steven's story, Annabelle waited. After several seconds went by, she finally asked impatiently, "who was it? Who helped them? Was it an elf? Who was the man that brought the snow?"
With a small smile he replied. "The one who always begins the winter…"
"Jack Frost" he said calmly, watching the blood drain from her face as she stopped in mid-rant and fell back in the chair. Standing, he straightened his tie in the mirror to give her a minute to recover, briefly catching her eye before his glance flickered to the camera and back again. At her look of comprehension, quickly masked, he faced her again.
"Shall we?"
At her immediate nod, he called the deputy to unlock her from the table before escorting her through the door.
They were both silent down the long corridor to the outer gate. As the last door clanged shut behind them, he put a restraining hand on her arm as she began to speak. Biting off the question she had almost voiced, they continued to the car in silence.
He caught her puzzled glance as he continued up the long limousine to the driver's area and dismissed the driver for the day. As soon as the uncomfortably attired man had hailed a taxi, accustomed to the vulgarities of the Senator's staff, Steven closed the limo door with them both inside.
The explosion was immediate.
"What the FUCK is going on Steven? I haven't heard you use our emergency code since I was fourteen! Where is Simone? Is she ok? Where…"
The events of the last 22 hours suddenly hit him like a brick wall, and it took him several tries before his voice would work. "I'm, god, I'm sorry I had to scare you, I just…it's…I…I just didn't know how to get you out of there without a fight and there isn't time I don't even know if there's time now…and she, she needs you…" Taking a deep breath, "Annabelle, something's…happened…to Simone, something…" Unconsciously glancing at the opaque security glass dividing them from the passenger area of the limo, his attention flickered back to Annabelle. Noticing the watching gate guards, he nervously motioned for her to move.
"Switch with me, we need to get out of here. I'll fill you in while I drive. We can't stay here, we have to…"
A soft touch on his arm stopped his rambling.
"Steven", she asked softly, eyes searching his face, "what happened?"
He took a deep breath, just as a muffled thump echoed up from the back of the car.
(fuck)
-
2016
The dim overhead lights flickered off Michael's belt buckle as he finally pulled it closed. Sweating, he sat in Simone's desk chair, eyes fastened on the still figure on the couch. Rubbing his face in his hands, he wondered for the millionth time how things had gotten so out of control.
(She still hasn't woken up…I should have just told her! Fuck)
Guilt riding him hard, he continued to stare over at Simone. Even now, the purpling bruise was deepening over her cheekbone, the split skin a striking exclamation. He had used the dermal regenerator to the best of his ability, but she would still have some excruciating bruising when she woke.
(I stopped the…the…bleeding, but…I just lost it. What have I done you crazy fuck…and I can't remember, fuck, did I give her the right one? Did I even do that right?)
Sweeping his arm across the desk in rage, he suddenly found himself again standing over Simone. Fists clenched, he fought to control himself.
(She's yours now…)
"Bullshit!"
(Quit your fucking bitching! This is what you wanted!)
"Not this way" Michael moaned.
(Whatever. She's yours now. Just don't fuck it up!)
Shaking his head back and forth, Michael backed towards the door. "She's not mine, not mine, not like this, nono, not like this". Bright light briefly outlined his departure, before the door fell shut behind him.
She was in the desert again. Whirling dust devils sped over the sun baked ground, throwing gusts of gritty sand and tumbleweeds skyward in a bizarre dance.
(I hate this fucking place)
Brushing back her whipping hair yet again, Annabelle scanned the uniform landscape. Chunks of rounded gray stone wrapped by piled sand surrounded her. Restless blue eyes searched the monotony as she continued walking towards the nearby sandstone cliffs.
(Where is she?)
Coming out of a shallow valley, Annabelle saw a flash of golden hair in the distance.
"Simone! Simone, wait!"
Annabelle broke into a confused jog as Simone turned and ran toward a low cave at the base of the cliffs.
(Oh don't you fucking DARE!)
"Dammit, Simone! Simone, fucking wait!"
Powered by rage and panic as Simone disappeared into irregular shadows, Annabelle ran for the cliffs as fast as she could.
(Not this time!)
Half sliding into the cave, Annabelle spat the sand from her mouth and heaved the dry air into her lungs. The cave was a black pit as her eyes adjusted from the brightness outside. Blind, she followed the sound of scuffs as Simone made her way deeper into the crevice.
Hands held out in front of her, and praying she didn't die of a cracked skull, Annabelle heard Simone's harsh sob as she realized her pursuer was hot on her heels.
"Simone, wait! Just stop dammit! Talk to me!"
The rough edges of the stone against her hands took on definition as the glare from the sands outside finally faded. Following the dim outline just ahead of her, Annabelle lunged, her fingers brushing Simone's bare ankle just enough to knock her off balance and into the cool, soft sand. Scrabbling forward before Simone could get completely to her feet, Annabelle fought to keep her grip just as Simone twisted in an effort to escape.
"Baby, wa…wait…Sim…dammit, Simone, fuck, stop!"
Gripping her sobbing lover close, she was unprepared as Simone stopped trying to push her away and instead met her in a fierce kiss, her hands locked in Annabelle's own.
"I love you". Barely whispered, intently heard, it nonetheless filled the space around them.
Losing herself in the kiss, Annabelle cursed as Simone took advantage of her momentary lapse and twisted to her feet.
"Wait!"
(I can't lose her again, I can't!)
2016
Sudden mumbling filled the quiet room.
"Wait. Jus wait…Simone. Wait, plea…just…please…wait. Please. Wait, Simone…please…"
Annabelle sat up in her bed, sleepily shoving away the blanket.
(Where is she?)
Fighting against the
(sand)
sheets, Annabelle's weak kicking finally untangled her legs. She slid out of bed, her feet padding on the cold pink linoleum as she made her way to the door.
(She's here, I saw her go in)
The weight of the heavy door pushing her off balance as it clicked shut behind her, Annabelle stumbled against the opposite wall in the empty hospital corridor.
"Jus…wait, I'm co…wait…"
Her fingers wedged against her temples, Kristin walked down the corridor.
(2 more hours and I'm done for the night, thank god!)
While a night of breaking in new staff had made the hours fly by, it had left her with an amazing tension headache. While Kristin had finally run out of stubbornness and popped a couple of aspirin, it had yet to take effect. She continued to study her patient schedule as she rounded the corner.
(I have just enough time to look in on Annabelle before my next training round begins...)
A heavy thump in the ordinarily deathly quiet coma wing jerked her head up.
(OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD.)
The med pad clattered to the floor as Kristin dropped to her knees and whipped her scrub top up around her face.
(Pleasepleasepleaseplease don't let her have seen me!)
Leaning into the wall, she heard Annabelle muttering as she tottered past her down the corridor. Kristin restrained a gasp as Annabelle trailed a steadying hand over her bare shoulders.
(FUCK. I know Simone locked it against anyone else getting in, but I didn't even think about Annabelle getting out!)
Edging a glance around her shirt, Kristin watched Annabelle continue. Her breath faint, Kristin hit the Emergency override button on her communicator, effectively breaking into and silencing every other communicator conversation in the hospital.
"Attention! This is McConnell. I'm declaring a Level 5 Alert for levels 2-4, clear the corridors immediately! Patient Tillman is ambulatory! C&C if you see her, do not, I repeat, DO NOT attempt to contain! Contact Dr. Bradley immediately, I need her up here! Everyone else, clear out!"
And with that, Kristin so, very, cautiously began to follow in Annabelle's wake.
Trailing her fingers against the
(rock)
wall, Annabelle made her way down the corridor. Eyes squinted against the bright light,
(fucking sun hate this place)
she continued, stumbling down and across pre-dawn corridors. The motionless, covered figures of caught-out hospital staff went completely unnoticed.
Finally, just as her wobbly legs began to give out, she fell to her knees against Simone's office door. Frustrated as the handle refused to turn, she weakly pounded on the door, her hand unintentionally slipping across the access panel.
"Request confirmed. Access granted, Tillman, Annabelle M."
Annabelle toppled into the dark office as the door clicked open. Exhausted, she almost cried out in frustration as her eyes desperately searched the office.
(Where is she has to be here saw her go in!)
A sigh of pure relief escaped her as she spotted the almost obscured blond curls at one end of the couch. Annabelle fought her way to the limp, blanket covered figure, using all of her weak resources. Arms quivered as she used the last of her strength to pull herself onto the couch, falling into the perfect hollow between the unconscious Simone and the back of couch. Her head fell to Simone's shoulder as her overtaxed body began to shut down. Annabelle's eyes closed with a sigh as she wrapped an arm tightly around Simone and passed out.
There was blood everywhere.
She was so cold.
Broken pieces of dirty ice rimmed the rocks near Simone's head, and her wet leather coat was no comfort in the freezing darkness as it wrapped around her waist. As she struggled to make her shaking hands wipe her vision clean, she heard Annabelle struggling beside her in the wrecked car.
"Belle? What…" Simone struggled dazedly against the pain in her head.
"Oh thank God you're awake Simone! We've got to get out of here, the water's coming in! Can you…"
Fading out for a minute, Simone gradually came back to Annabelle yelling.
"Simone! Oh God, baby, please! Simone! I can't reach…can you…please, baby!" Annabelle sobbed.
(I can't. I have to!)
Letting the blood drip from her mouth instead of wasting energy spitting it out, Simone moved to unbuckle her seatbelt and ended up screaming as knives tore into her chest. Struggling for breath, she tried by sheer force of will to make her numb hands press the release button.
"Oh Simone, please baby please I'm fucking pinned! Can you…! Simone, reach!"
And Simone fell back into darkness.
They were at the beach. Finally.
This late in the year they pretty much had things to themselves. Sand that had been uncomfortably warm just a month ago now required a blanket for any length of time. Which was fine with Annabelle, as snuggling up against Simone was high on her, "Top 10 Things to do with Simone" list. Wasn't in the top 5, but let's face it, those top 5 were hard to beat.
Smiling at the thought, Annabelle pulled tighter the arms wrapped around her shoulders, leaning further back into her lover.
"Any tighter and I'm going to have to resuscitate you" whispered the laughing voice into her ear, finishing the sentence with a kiss.
"And here I thought I was going to have to do that last night", Annabelle teased back with a smirk. Hearing nothing but silence from behind her, Annabelle looked backward, twisting quickly in Simone's grip as she saw the falling tears.
"Baby? Baby! What…?" her almost frantic query cut off as her lips were fiercely captured. Eyes locked on each other, Annabelle simply watched and felt as Simone ran her fingertips through Annabelle's hair, stroking gently over her face and neck, seeming to memorize each inch. Finally, leaning close enough to feel the warmth of her skin, Simone whispered, "You already have".
Now showing tears of her own, Annabelle had no words as she gathered Simone close, her hands gliding under her sweatshirt, trying to show her love through pure amount of touch. "I love you" soundlessly rained from her lips against welcoming skin, and like the tide, was returned to her in kind.
Here, there, everywhere. They were complete.
Afterward, as sweat drenched skin mixed with the salt mist of the waves, Annabelle listened to Simone's steady heartbeat under her ear. Completely content, Annabelle suddenly jerked and cursed as she felt a sharp sting on her leg.
"Motherfucker! What the?...Simone, did you see what the hell bit me?" Looking at her leg, she was confused to find not even a scratch. Confused and a bit pissed to be so rudely brought out of her reverie, Annabelle tossed aside discarded clothing and blankets.
"Son of a bitch! When I find you…"
Struck by her lover's silence, she looked up to find herself alone.
Whipping her head around, Annabelle was dumbstruck to find nothing but empty sand and water around her.
"What? Simone? Simone!"
Heedless of the chill against her naked skin, Annabelle ran to the water, trying to peer past the fog that had suddenly rolled in.
"Mo? Where are you? Baby? SIMONE!"
2016
"Goddammit Joel, I thought you said she wouldn't even notice this time!" Kristen said, as she tiredly watched Annabelle jerk, groan and go still again on the drone monitor.
"I SAID", the doctor replied through gritted teeth, "that with this much inactivity she should have lost her waking sensitivity. She shouldn't have even felt the needle, much less have it jerk her out of dreamland like that!" Frustrated fingers rubbed his own temples as he set down the remote. "McConnell, she was only awake for what, 3 days? And only started walking again for her one trek down here right?" he said, gesturing to the now cluttered corridor outside Bradley's office.
At McConnell's affirmative nod he continued. "Well then, I'll say it again. She should have lost her skin sensitivity. She should have relapsed into a vegetative state if any, not this, this, prom night hangover bullshit she's been stuck in for the last month; almost waking up and going under again. She should at least be reacting the same to the nano's as she did for the last two fucking years!" Now on a roll, his frustration came out. "And you know what else? That's only the shit going on with HER!" he yelled, pointing at Annabelle's image on the monitor.
"There's no reason, even with the damage the 'bots found with Dr. Bradley, that she's still comatose. Nothing!" Enraged, the young doctor picked up and flung the remote against the wall, watching it smash into smithereens. Chest heaving loudly in the silence, he said softly, "You know I did my residency under Simone. She would get every weird, unsolvable case the world over referred to her. Jesus, you should have seen some of the shit she got from Beijing."
Sliding down the wall till he bumped the linoleum floor, he stared at McConnell. "I've never seen anything like this. Not with one person, and certainly not with two. If we hadn't scrubbed their tests for everything, I would say they were 'bot attacks. But as it is, I very simply, don't know what to do next."
Letting her own head fall into her hands, Kristen studied the monitor. Dr. Zue had finally consented to go off for some much needed rest.
(God, he was almost as tired as I am)
They had tried everything. Ever since Annabelle had, by some miracle of God, managed to wander her way to Simone's office and collapse on the couch, the floor had been in an uproar. Dr. Bradley had immediately been paged, and it was only when the onlookers had heard the notification alert going off inside the office that they realized the situation had just gotten much, much worse.
Kristen's lips quirked.
(Just like Annabelle to accidentally save someone's life)
If she hadn't literally fallen on top of Bradley, they never would have found her in time. Simone's initial scan had triggered a critical alarm from the drone they had hastily edged into the office, forcing emergency nanobot injections for Bradley.
(I've never programmed 'bots so fast in my life)
At that time, they hadn't even had time to check the office logs for the bastard that had damn near killed Simone. Only when Simone and Annabelle were finally stabilized in the ensuring days did Kristen have time to check the visual logs.
And found nothing.
Simone had apparently used her Level 5 override to turn off the office monitors. An action that almost got her killed, since turning off the visual recorder also turned off the installed Bio-Scan safety device.
(If Annabelle hadn't…)
But she had. And now that they were both somewhat stable, they were having a hell of a time getting them out of that mode. A week after the "walking incident", they had sent a robotics team in, intending to move Annabelle back to her room.
She didn't even make it on the stretcher.
The robotics had lifted her torso away from Simone when alarms started going off. Annabelle's blood pressure skyrocketed, while Simone had just…stopped breathing.
Immediately giving the robotics the order to drop Annabelle and give treatment to Simone, they had gotten as far as releasing Annabelle when Simone gasped. Winding her unbroken arm around where Annabelle rested once again on her chest, Simone continued to breathe on her own, to the amazed consternation of the bystanders outside.
Cautious subsequent tests had proven Kristen's worst fear. What had started as a normal Imprint relationship had become one where the two women simply couldn't be physically separated. Period. Even the oversized shirt Annabelle wore caused problems when it covered too much skin, making both patients restless and causing dips in their vitals. As soon as it was removed, once again, the readings stabilized.
They had managed to transfer the couple to a bigger twin hospital bed installed in the office, but other than the maintenance 'bots they had injected, the medical staff was helpless.
So they watched, and waited as the two women inside grew closer to each other, and further away from the rest of them.