An unsolicited promise from nowhere.
He left behind his provisional driving license with promises to be back.
Marcy could only hope he wouldn’t return. Projection of his own insecurity. She can post it to him. Once she recovers. Intensity ran the risk of never ending. Relief wouldn’t come. It never did.
Her body ached after a date that lasted four days and nights instead of two hours watching a film. What the fuck happened? The story of her life. People were good, weren’t they? Things will get better, won’t they?
Piercing blue eyes gazed right into her. Eyes the pictures warned her about. Eyes like the eyes on posters. Followed her everywhere, checking out each movement, no matter how tiny. Objections to meet him met with We’re over. You need to move on. No reassurance from Marcy until she clung onto the arm of something with a cock.
Balance. No one is wholly good. No one is wholly evil. Except Kord. Four unpleasant days. Four even worse nights. Shouting about a childhood he lived. Stolen from other people. Gain sympathy and bonding in the horror movie life.
Demeaner shouted vulnerable. Hunched shoulders. Gentle movements. A parrot to mirror back her own movements and lack of confidence. Obese with missing teeth. He obviously missed the lessons in the very basics of self-care. A literal mirror and time machine to grasp the importance of copying that.
Eyes stated overwise. A window into the depths of his soul. Bleak and black. No stars. No light. No one there. No reflection. No Earth. No Hell. No Heaven.
Tentacles of the void swept over her. Threat of imminent penetration. A chill passed through her soul as they tried to gain entry. A weakness in her system. They exist within everyone. Marcy. Well-guarded. The man with the eyes had a stench to him. Something left to decay in the high-noon sun. Something to weaken Marcy’s resolve, or take pity as he moaned about the bad life he led. Things would be different now he had Marcy.
No one existed. Except Marcy. Somewhere in the last few seconds she was meant to believe lust became love. Automatic reflex for anyone desperate enough to invite him out on a date.
Anyone who didn’t care enough. Apathy. Soul exchanged for peace.
56 seconds and his hand caressed her leg. She swallowed spit and air. He leaned into her dislodging air molecules to shove his scent up her nose. His eyes. Nowhere to hide. She cowered within herself and felt the gag.
He looked nothing like the pictures. Pictures carried on a wi-fi signal on Ex-lover’s phone couldn’t convoy the smell. A few hours. Nothing more. A film and some popcorn. She didn’t sign up for him to touch her. She didn’t sign up to have popcorn scooped out of a shared bowl with his fingernails touching every kernel.
The film never happened. No time to pop the popcorn. He saw what he wanted and went for it. Lack of social skills. Unable to read the unspoken cues. No meant yes. No meant I came all this way to meet you and you won’t even give me a kiss.
His eyes shouted at her. To swallow her up in their nothing. Empty Void tentacles reached. The more she cowered, the easier she became to find. His hand reached above her knee. Frozen in his stare. Little Bambi, run. No significance with his piercing stare. Little Bambi too far in the past to remember the defiant little girl behind the rhyme. Blue eyes like ice. Hand rubbed her inner thigh. Leggings suddenly too thin. Stale sweat soaked through.
A fly after her honey with his penetrating tentacles of the Void. Kissing her thighs. Pulling at her leggings. Breathing on her. Putrid breath. Murder the flies. The guards. The fabric.
A smaller man with thicker hair and a much better fashion sense. Disappointment. He didn’t even bother to bathe before their date. Self-care a concept for the snobs. Hygiene for uppity bitches. His fingernails pulled at the fabric. Her skin felt the scratch. A glance down revealed the dirt beneath them.
Tentacles sent straight from the Void called her eyes back. Don’t pay attention to his hands. His nails. Less resistance and it’ll all be over. Marcy looked up. Into his eyes. Passed glance over his body, he didn’t pick up her signals.
“No. Please don’t. You said we’d take things slow.”
A mountain troll with hunched shoulders and stringy hair fell off the bus. Unwashed tee-shirt. He found one that fell over his stomach and to his upper thighs. Thin waterproof in the cold December wind and rain. Sweat pants. No effort.
She wouldn’t have recognised him if it weren’t for the eyes. Four seconds belongs to Marcy. He wanted to look after her. He couldn’t look after himself.
Infection spread from her groin and battered anus. The anal sex, apparently a slip up. It didn’t stop with her howls of agony and the neighbours banging on the wall in the middle of the night. Marcy heard that before. The before contained lubricant for when life fucked her in the arse. Not this time. Lubricant and spit. Interchangeable rolling off his tongue with the immunity to any and all sexually transmitted diseases and total infertility. Condoms don’t fit. I’m a shapeshifter. A wink thrown in for good seduction measure. I can shift all my weight to my cock.
The vulnerability an act. Nothing more. Designed to lure Marcy into sex she didn’t want. Quick twenty minutes against the wall. Then she can pop the popcorn and put on a film.
She summoned the demon. Here to serve her needs. He knows her needs.
He left behind his provisional driving license with promises to be back.
Marcy could only hope he wouldn’t return. Projection of his own insecurity. She can post it to him. Once she recovers. Intensity ran the risk of never ending. Relief wouldn’t come. It never did.
Her body ached after a date that lasted four days and nights instead of two hours watching a film. What the fuck happened? The story of her life. People were good, weren’t they? Things will get better, won’t they?
Piercing blue eyes gazed right into her. Eyes the pictures warned her about. Eyes like the eyes on posters. Followed her everywhere, checking out each movement, no matter how tiny. Objections to meet him met with We’re over. You need to move on. No reassurance from Marcy until she clung onto the arm of something with a cock.
Balance. No one is wholly good. No one is wholly evil. Except Kord. Four unpleasant days. Four even worse nights. Shouting about a childhood he lived. Stolen from other people. Gain sympathy and bonding in the horror movie life.
Demeaner shouted vulnerable. Hunched shoulders. Gentle movements. A parrot to mirror back her own movements and lack of confidence. Obese with missing teeth. He obviously missed the lessons in the very basics of self-care. A literal mirror and time machine to grasp the importance of copying that.
Eyes stated overwise. A window into the depths of his soul. Bleak and black. No stars. No light. No one there. No reflection. No Earth. No Hell. No Heaven.
Tentacles of the void swept over her. Threat of imminent penetration. A chill passed through her soul as they tried to gain entry. A weakness in her system. They exist within everyone. Marcy. Well-guarded. The man with the eyes had a stench to him. Something left to decay in the high-noon sun. Something to weaken Marcy’s resolve, or take pity as he moaned about the bad life he led. Things would be different now he had Marcy.
No one existed. Except Marcy. Somewhere in the last few seconds she was meant to believe lust became love. Automatic reflex for anyone desperate enough to invite him out on a date.
Anyone who didn’t care enough. Apathy. Soul exchanged for peace.
56 seconds and his hand caressed her leg. She swallowed spit and air. He leaned into her dislodging air molecules to shove his scent up her nose. His eyes. Nowhere to hide. She cowered within herself and felt the gag.
He looked nothing like the pictures. Pictures carried on a wi-fi signal on Ex-lover’s phone couldn’t convoy the smell. A few hours. Nothing more. A film and some popcorn. She didn’t sign up for him to touch her. She didn’t sign up to have popcorn scooped out of a shared bowl with his fingernails touching every kernel.
The film never happened. No time to pop the popcorn. He saw what he wanted and went for it. Lack of social skills. Unable to read the unspoken cues. No meant yes. No meant I came all this way to meet you and you won’t even give me a kiss.
His eyes shouted at her. To swallow her up in their nothing. Empty Void tentacles reached. The more she cowered, the easier she became to find. His hand reached above her knee. Frozen in his stare. Little Bambi, run. No significance with his piercing stare. Little Bambi too far in the past to remember the defiant little girl behind the rhyme. Blue eyes like ice. Hand rubbed her inner thigh. Leggings suddenly too thin. Stale sweat soaked through.
A fly after her honey with his penetrating tentacles of the Void. Kissing her thighs. Pulling at her leggings. Breathing on her. Putrid breath. Murder the flies. The guards. The fabric.
A smaller man with thicker hair and a much better fashion sense. Disappointment. He didn’t even bother to bathe before their date. Self-care a concept for the snobs. Hygiene for uppity bitches. His fingernails pulled at the fabric. Her skin felt the scratch. A glance down revealed the dirt beneath them.
Tentacles sent straight from the Void called her eyes back. Don’t pay attention to his hands. His nails. Less resistance and it’ll all be over. Marcy looked up. Into his eyes. Passed glance over his body, he didn’t pick up her signals.
“No. Please don’t. You said we’d take things slow.”
A mountain troll with hunched shoulders and stringy hair fell off the bus. Unwashed tee-shirt. He found one that fell over his stomach and to his upper thighs. Thin waterproof in the cold December wind and rain. Sweat pants. No effort.
She wouldn’t have recognised him if it weren’t for the eyes. Four seconds belongs to Marcy. He wanted to look after her. He couldn’t look after himself.
Infection spread from her groin and battered anus. The anal sex, apparently a slip up. It didn’t stop with her howls of agony and the neighbours banging on the wall in the middle of the night. Marcy heard that before. The before contained lubricant for when life fucked her in the arse. Not this time. Lubricant and spit. Interchangeable rolling off his tongue with the immunity to any and all sexually transmitted diseases and total infertility. Condoms don’t fit. I’m a shapeshifter. A wink thrown in for good seduction measure. I can shift all my weight to my cock.
The vulnerability an act. Nothing more. Designed to lure Marcy into sex she didn’t want. Quick twenty minutes against the wall. Then she can pop the popcorn and put on a film.
She summoned the demon. Here to serve her needs. He knows her needs.