I'll be in Seattle until Wednesday for work, so review replies might be nonexistent, but I still have a chapter for each day and please know I appreciate all of you and your kind words.
Nothing makes sense. Not the cracks on the ceiling. Or the slight draft from the window. The yelling in the hall. The otherwise silent prison. I expect everything to be painted a soft yellow. The ruffled comforter pushed below my knees. And Emmett just down the hall to soothe my nightmares.
Bang!
I'm jolted from my confusion and the fog of sleepiness seeps away, leaving a sort of lucidity I haven't felt in a long time. Even my body sings with freedom as each of my limbs follows my mind's command. The floor beneath my bare feet actually seems cool to the touch. The splintered wood on the doorframe. The crisp draft against my face as I pull at the knob to freedom. I think that's the first thing I recognize. Actually feeling something. And not just the weight of an object on me.
The silent hallway greets me. The dull glow of the hushing dawn is the only light that graces the walls, and my eyes grow heavy with dull fatigue. My body's reminder that I still have a few hours of sleep left. Or it could be the last of the candy making its way through my system.
Maybe that's why I don't hear it at first. Though now that I do, the soft sound is almost blaring in my ears. A whispered mewl and the brush, brush of skin against skin. I can't make out where it's coming, but the only open door is Alice's. Only just barely with a large crack running across the wood from the edge to the middle. I don't remember seeing it before, but then again there's a lot that I could have missed in Bella Time.
I hear it again. The whispered mewl. And maybe it's because I'm so concentrated on the crack in Alice's door but I could have sworn it came from her room. I glance down the hall at the other prisons just in case I might have missed something when I'm almost sure I'd imagined it when I hear it again.
"Yes…"
So I peek in because I've never been good without knowing and I instantly wish I hadn't given into my curiosity. They're so much skin and not a stitch of clothing. Whatever they were wearing was thrown in discarded piles on the floor. She's on her back. Her legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his thighs.
He grunts, shushing at her increasing passion. All a mute point as he shifts closer, his knees spreading on the mattress, his hands lifting her waist higher, curving her body so that his thrusts go deeper into her.
She's goes wild. Loving the harsh. Loving the clenching. Shaking her head back and forth as those little whispered mewls spill out one after the other.
"Fuck. Alice…" Droplets of sweat fall from his curling blond hair, almost glowing in the dewy morning.
"Yes…"
"Let me hear you cry."
She begins to weep. Sad cries. Much like those I heard in the night however many days ago. But so unlike the pleasure on her face. She's a dichotomy of different emotions. But it drives him crazy. His hips move faster. His breaths grow shorter. He falls so easily into the abyss.
And it's her last tortured moan that follows me back to my room in a hurry. "Jasper…"