*Continued from Intensity, Part I
The sounds of grappling and tired breathing seem louder than they are. Her awareness is heightened beyond imaginable limits as she runs - barefoot - away from the scene. Strangely, the gunshot is quiet, perhaps from a silencer, or perhaps from a need to pretend it wasn't a gunshot. She doesn't turn around to see. She simply runs.
***
It is a strange and unnatural feeling to fall from the sky, and she had no idea how she let him talk her into experiencing it. Well, she had some idea. It was probably that temporary vulnerability his eyes revealed - a false vulnerability - when they shifted from intense to begging. She knew that he knew all he had to do was get her on the plane. Once she was hooked tandem to the skydiving instructor - a friend of his - there was no turning back. He wouldn't allow it. The prick.
Her eyes were closed at first, but wind-pummeled curiosity soon fostered a peek. The overwhelming perception of the Earth from so high opened her eyes further, and she couldn't help but stare at the ground. She knew he was off laughing somewhere, but the rush of air prevented her from hearing it. Only his smile growing larger as he closed the distance between his own free fall and hers provided evidence of his twisted, but awe-inspiring, joke.
Afterward, she had trouble describing what kissing while falling from an airplane felt like, but she tried anyway. To anyone who would listen.
***
It had been a trick he used often. Get her into a car after an argument, then drive until both were calm. Only, she found herself never calming down, the relative claustrophobia from being confined to such a small space - even one surrounded by windows and directly next to a door - elicited panic. He drove too fast when he was angry. Too precise. She had seen him flip a suspect's car with his own during a chase caught by a news helicopter. She feared the worst as he drove with abandon through mountain roads in the middle of the night. But the fact that he seemed so calm about everything that happened between them only pissed her off.
She should have turned him in when the police questioned her in the recovery room. Should have told them that he drove off the cliff on purpose. Instead, she cooked up a story about a deer and that he was tired from having driven all day. Though it was his driving that put them both in the hospital - and on purpose - it was his driving that ultimately saved their lives. Where he learned how to drive down a cliff, she never learned. But even as he revolted her, he turned her on. She remembers his eyes as he ripped the door off the car, pulling her out of the passenger seat and laying her down safely. Intense eyes, full of regret, yet hiding the knowledge that something like this will undoubtedly happen again.
***
He was bold, that was certain. Approaching her even while under a restraining order.
"I just want to talk," he had said. "You can pick where."
She only agreed after sending a mass-text to everyone, letting them know where she was going and who she'd be with.
***
She doesn't know how it happened. How they wound up in an alley in a seedy area of downtown in the middle of the night. How his hands wound up down her waistline and his fingers inside of her. She'd never been attracted to a set of eyes like his before... or since. Eyes that seemed to suggest, "taste me." So she did, well aware that she might negate the restraining order she herself had applied for.
Never particularly adventurous when it came to sex, she allowed herself to be pinned against an alley wall, wrapping her legs around his torso in the process. There was some discomfort in their postures, but it was worth it, even after realizing how stupid she was being. She had stepped into the web of a master manipulator tonight - years ago, really - and couldn't get out.
Neither had any idea they were being watched, or that she would finally be granted the opportunity to escape.
***
She hates them, but she longs for those eyes. Intense, almost angry eyes. She doesn't yet know it, but she is safe from the assailants and the police will soon arrive. She doesn't yet know it, but she is finally safe from those eyes and will never see them open again. But, it is not enough to earn her forgiveness.
Showing posts with label hate. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hate. Show all posts
Friday, August 13, 2010
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Intensity, Part I
"When I move," he starts, not sure if he should finish the thought. They've been lovers, but have not been the best of friends. In fact, they hate each other as much as they once loved. She quit trusting him years ago and he knows it. She needs to trust him now, though. He figures to see if she does. ".... run like Hell."
***
Their first meeting was rather unusual in that it happened twice. The first first meeting was the more memorable event, but it was the second first meeting that began their relationship. Both were attending night classes - she to finish her degree in education and he to obtain enough college credits to get a promotion at work - and noticed each other immediately. He was instantly attracted to her smile and she to his eyes. Her smile quite literally lit up any room - he would even later claim it glowed in the dark - and his eyes held a mysterious, yet familiar, sense of safety.
Feeling a bit awkward and given his line of work, he had a friend find out more about her before he asked her out. She, too, felt a bit awkward, but only because of the inexplicable familiarity. His eyes were intense - almost angry - but she couldn't help that they made her feel safe.
"You wanna grab coffee before class next Thursday?" he had asked.
Though not a coffee drinker, she replied, "Sure."
When Thursday came around, one coffee cup was refilled a half-dozen times while the other was merely sipped (and never went beyond half-empty). He wasn't as shy as he seemed initially and talked circles around her. She didn't mind, preferring to listen to his stories of traveling the world and doing adventurous things. Some, like jumping out of airplanes, she found stupid, but regaled in his tales nonetheless.
The most significant thing she found herself speaking of was her career history. Not sure that she really wanted to teach, she told of her previous jobs - everything from waitress to golf caddy. She explained the most recent job she held prior to returning to school and the horrifying reason she left.
He started laughing. She was appalled until he told her what he found so funny.
***
Most hostage situations in the United States end peacefully, with minor injuries and no loss of life. But this hadn't been one of those situations. To show they meant business, as the cliché goes, the robbers shot one of the bank tellers.
Before she could even finish her scream, the shattering of windows began, quickly followed by bright flashes and loud bangs. At the time, she hadn't been sure she heard more gunfire - blinded and deafened as she was - but seeing the news report later revealed that she had. She was sure, however, that she had panicked. Unwisely scrambling through what was briefly a war zone, it was a pair of black gloved hands - momentarily removed from their MP5/10 submachine gun - that swung her body out of harms way and carried her to safety. The SWAT operator had a balaclava covering his face, and all she could see were his eyes. Intense, almost angry eyes.
"You okay?" His voice, already muffled by the balaclava, sounded even more faint to her through the ringing in her ears. All she could do was nod rapidly and start to cry. She didn't even have time to utter a thank you as he set her down and ran off to join the overwatch element. But those eyes had burned their way into her memory.
***
In this moment, she hated those eyes. An argument over something - she couldn't even remember what... he probably couldn't either - led to broken furniture and torn clothing. And then he was on top of her, having forced his way inside of her despite her screams and cries. This was a scene oft-repeated, and she's embarrassed to admit that the familiarity of his body sometimes elicited a sick enjoyment from her. But not then. There was too much anger in the both of them. He would not be forgiven.
***
Both were drunk the first time they had sex. It was a euphoric experience for her and a playful resistance melted away instantaneously upon his penetration of her. She vaguely remembers seeing the skyline of the city below and the twinkling stars above outside of the hotel window. His hair had partially blocked the view which made the tapestry of the entire nightscape all the more erotic. For the first time in a very long time, she freed her body from her mind, a fact reflected in the scratches on his back he more than willingly endured.
***
She doesn't want to run, but she knows she has to. She doesn't want to leave his side, even though a small part of her hates that she's by it. He's already bleeding - one of the assailants came armed with a knife and managed to slice his back - and there will be more blood.
He looks at her, and emotion disappears behind necessity. "Are you ready?" he asks.
No. She doesn't have time to finish the thought before he pushes her out of the way and rushes the men.
*Continued in Intensity, Part II
***
Their first meeting was rather unusual in that it happened twice. The first first meeting was the more memorable event, but it was the second first meeting that began their relationship. Both were attending night classes - she to finish her degree in education and he to obtain enough college credits to get a promotion at work - and noticed each other immediately. He was instantly attracted to her smile and she to his eyes. Her smile quite literally lit up any room - he would even later claim it glowed in the dark - and his eyes held a mysterious, yet familiar, sense of safety.
Feeling a bit awkward and given his line of work, he had a friend find out more about her before he asked her out. She, too, felt a bit awkward, but only because of the inexplicable familiarity. His eyes were intense - almost angry - but she couldn't help that they made her feel safe.
"You wanna grab coffee before class next Thursday?" he had asked.
Though not a coffee drinker, she replied, "Sure."
When Thursday came around, one coffee cup was refilled a half-dozen times while the other was merely sipped (and never went beyond half-empty). He wasn't as shy as he seemed initially and talked circles around her. She didn't mind, preferring to listen to his stories of traveling the world and doing adventurous things. Some, like jumping out of airplanes, she found stupid, but regaled in his tales nonetheless.
The most significant thing she found herself speaking of was her career history. Not sure that she really wanted to teach, she told of her previous jobs - everything from waitress to golf caddy. She explained the most recent job she held prior to returning to school and the horrifying reason she left.
He started laughing. She was appalled until he told her what he found so funny.
***
Most hostage situations in the United States end peacefully, with minor injuries and no loss of life. But this hadn't been one of those situations. To show they meant business, as the cliché goes, the robbers shot one of the bank tellers.
Before she could even finish her scream, the shattering of windows began, quickly followed by bright flashes and loud bangs. At the time, she hadn't been sure she heard more gunfire - blinded and deafened as she was - but seeing the news report later revealed that she had. She was sure, however, that she had panicked. Unwisely scrambling through what was briefly a war zone, it was a pair of black gloved hands - momentarily removed from their MP5/10 submachine gun - that swung her body out of harms way and carried her to safety. The SWAT operator had a balaclava covering his face, and all she could see were his eyes. Intense, almost angry eyes.
"You okay?" His voice, already muffled by the balaclava, sounded even more faint to her through the ringing in her ears. All she could do was nod rapidly and start to cry. She didn't even have time to utter a thank you as he set her down and ran off to join the overwatch element. But those eyes had burned their way into her memory.
***
In this moment, she hated those eyes. An argument over something - she couldn't even remember what... he probably couldn't either - led to broken furniture and torn clothing. And then he was on top of her, having forced his way inside of her despite her screams and cries. This was a scene oft-repeated, and she's embarrassed to admit that the familiarity of his body sometimes elicited a sick enjoyment from her. But not then. There was too much anger in the both of them. He would not be forgiven.
***
Both were drunk the first time they had sex. It was a euphoric experience for her and a playful resistance melted away instantaneously upon his penetration of her. She vaguely remembers seeing the skyline of the city below and the twinkling stars above outside of the hotel window. His hair had partially blocked the view which made the tapestry of the entire nightscape all the more erotic. For the first time in a very long time, she freed her body from her mind, a fact reflected in the scratches on his back he more than willingly endured.
***
She doesn't want to run, but she knows she has to. She doesn't want to leave his side, even though a small part of her hates that she's by it. He's already bleeding - one of the assailants came armed with a knife and managed to slice his back - and there will be more blood.
He looks at her, and emotion disappears behind necessity. "Are you ready?" he asks.
No. She doesn't have time to finish the thought before he pushes her out of the way and rushes the men.
*Continued in Intensity, Part II
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