Retribution (Part 1)

            Stanley was surprisingly strong for a man whom looked as if he would break into a million pieces if he tripped and fell over. He slid the heavy chain around Fenton’s neck and secured it in place and began to make his way to the basement, as the heavy chain dragged behind him clanking against the floor leaving Fenton with no choice but to follow after or be dragged. He was too drained and still reeling from the pain of his resistance and defiance and did not have the strength to try and fight anymore. Not even bothering to try and get to his feet. He did not think he could have stood if he tried he scampered behind on his hands and knees like an animal.

            Sasha stood before the full length mirror in the bedroom. She was a mess, and she felt a new surge of anger rack through her. She had the mind to march down into the basement and show Fenton a thing or two, how could he do this? How could he be so ungrateful? Yet deep down it made her shudder, she had never encountered another before who could so willfully and effectively fight against the bond. By now the wounds she had sustained would be healed, with only the remaining trails of dried blood, wounds that should have been fatal, and would have been in normal circumstances. She peeled off her now ruined dress and tossed it upon the floor and began to make her way into the adjoining bathroom but stopped short a pain like liquid fire shot through her leg. She had not noticed it before, perhaps because she was still too furious, and now the adrenaline was starting to fade. She would glance down. "Fuck!" The wound upon her leg where Fenton had bit her had not healed as nicely as the others made by the glass, rather it looked as if it was infected already. She had not accounted for this. She knew he was strong, beyond strong, but the idea that there would actually be any additional side affects from his bite never occurred to her. What had she done? She involved herself into something she did not, could not fully comprehend.

            She would hobble over to the bed and reached over to remove the phone from the cradle as she sunk down into the softness of the grand old bed with a soft sigh as she began to dial the number. She waited as the phone rang, and rang again before there came the familiar voice at the other end. "Yo, spill it or loose it."  She cringed, why did he have to think he was so damned cute all the time. But she did not have time to debate with him his poor taste just now. "It's me, something’s happened, get over here right now." She then dropped the phone back down, not giving Nicoli the chance to protest or say a single word. Falling back fully upon the bed, she did not bother to get dressed now, wearing only her break-neck heals. Her hair floated around her upon the pillow making something of a dark halo. She did make quite the picture of a fallen angel. Stretched out upon her back sinking in soft satin sheets with her arms spread out at her sides to take up as much space as possible. Her lips crimson red, and her eyes fixed upon the ceiling directly above her, she let the world slip away forgetting about all her other responsibilities.

10:01 AM - 4/19/2007 - post comment

Good One!!!

On this one, this one I've become even more
enraptured about Sasha. This one trapped me
in her mind, the way she felt, what she saw,
how she thought. Thank you. I really, really
like Sasha. Fenton, yeah, I feel anger for him
because Sasha seems to. Give us more, this
is becoming an addiction!

On your details, thanks. As a "male" writer...my greatest
fear is describing how a female character feels about....
clothing. I really liked your "break-neck heels"
detail. It shows me the irony behind those trappings
of the cult of beauty. I think I've learned something here. Thanks
to thee.

DarthTsynn - 10:38 AM - 4/21/2007

Thank you

As always thank you for your kind words, I am glad you are enjoying, this is a fun write I must say.

And I am glad I could offer up some help, yes for some reason I grew quite attached to that line break-neck heals, it is catchy I think

SilverWind - 11:14 AM - 4/21/2007

Quote of the Week: We have just enough religion to make us hate, but not enough to make us love one another--Jonathan Swift

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