• Pained Sleepless Nights

    She lay in her bed, motionless under the thin sheets, her long mahogany brown hair pooled around her thin face, accenting her full lips... Her body seemed to spring to life as her lips parted, a terrified scream slipping loose. She woke in her own bed, the sheets sliding away from her frail body, her dream unusually clear, no. She wouldn't refer to it as a dream; dreams were pleasant; peaceful. This was a horrible nightmare full of pain and agonized cries. She got up, letting the sheet slide gently back onto her bed, stumbling in her half awaken state.

    She managed to stumble to the bathroom, splash water on her heated face, and glance at the thin petite figure in her blue nightgown in the mirror. She was only able to see the beautiful woman's torso, her scars covered well by the light silk fabric. She knew all too well the doctors wouldn't be able to cover the burn scar that ran over her stomach and lower back. She sighed to herself, and glanced at the clock on her nightstand in the next room over; 5:00A.M. She had to be up and ready for her audition in an hour... She slipped off her nightgown, glancing down, the vivid scars that caused her nightmare still there. She quickly stepped in to the shower, turning the water on, letting it flow over her body, eyes closed. The hot water felt good as it ran off her long hair down her back, feeling cool on her flame shaped scars. It only reminded her more of her nightmare. She dreaded sleeping so, the life she was given to save hers almost not worth it.

    She stepped out after washing her body vigorously, careful over the still tender scars. She wrapped a big pink velvety towel around her body tightly, stepping into the other room and to her closet. She pushed the big dark cherry wood doors aside to reveal a full closet of black clothes. She pushed the clothes aside tell she found a small dark red leotard with a small black skirt attached to it. She smiled slightly, grabbing the lace up dancing shoes off the floor and tossing them into an old bag marked with her initials, or what were her initials. She winced at the internal pain, the memories still fresh and holding the agony, even if they were dull with human vision. She smiled to herself, as she slipped on baggy black jeans and shirt. Her true shape hid well under the baggy clothes, she still looked good in them. She walked her bathroom, head held high, quickly lining her eyes in dark black, elegant, but Gothic liner, she put a dark red-brown lipstick on next, glanced over at the clock, grabbed her bag, and headed out the door.

    She took her time walking to the big building she had walked to before, but never in, she sighed, calming herself before opening the large metal doors. A high pitched, almost deafening squeak cried out as she pushed the door open. The room was dark, full of nothingness as far as she could see, she stared deep into this never ending dark. The lights flipped on suddenly, shocking her out of her deep stricken trance. Standing across a very large windowless room was a tall, male. She could see his dark eyes lock onto hers. She shivered as he stepped closer, his dark hair pulled up in a pony tail trailing down his muscular shoulders. "Annabell Nidra Zechmean?" His deep voice echoed, and awoke something deep inside her. All she managed is a shaky nod as he stepped closer, now only ten feet from her. When had he got so damn close? She asked herself, looking down, her hair falling into her face. "Are you here to try out or just count the damn tiles?" He smirked, she could tell it in his voice. He was going to laugh at her.

    She composed herself and hid the blush that spread across her face with a smile looking back up at him. "I'm here to Audition, Mr. Souviniar." She gave him a look a look, that made his heart break, her big silvery green eyes almost having a gold tint to them. She looked so innocent, would she be able to handle erotic dancing? He pondered to himself, his mind wandering to what people would pay to see an innocent erotic dancer. She tapped her foot slightly impatiently, nervous to get this over with, the light bag seeming heavier then before. He looked like he was thinking. Did she dress wrong? She could run home and change. She needed this job. Badly. She couldn't go back to living with her parents. Not after what happened last time.

    Her tapping foot finally pierced his transfixed gaze, her eyes now more emerald then green-gold. He could tell she was slightly annoyed. He sighed, "Change over there." He gestured with one of his arms to clearly marked bathrooms, looking at her bag, marked with B.L.M. Was that some kind of band? He questioned himself, not daring to speak up about her bag. She walked toward the bathrooms, swiftly, all to aware of his eyes following her. She stepped in and heard him sigh loudly, his feet making a loud noise as if running away. He was running to the other side of the room, into a smaller one that broke off.She heard loud music begin to play, and rushed to slide her skirt on over, lacing the heels quickly. She ran out to see his tan body stretching, his black wife beater on the floor next to him. He only had blue jeans on now... His lean body was well muscled, shaped to wear he wasn't too muscly, but not a total twig either. She hadn't realized tell he stood up and looked at her that he had said something. "Stretch." She nodded, and started stretching her limber body easily.

    He tried to focus on stretching his tired body and not watch her, but there was a drastic change from the baggy clothes to the tight practice outfit. He could see every shape her body had, bending and stretching easily. She stood up as the song changed and walked towards him as the swift music began to play. He managed to ramble off a dance and start leading, their bodies tightly intertwined. He tried so hard not to rape her, right then and there. Their bodies so close, it was torture! He hid a groan as the music began to get louder, the dance already almost over... She smiled as he dipped her, their bodies still touching, he fought back a shiver as he kissed the cool skin of hers. She felt his warm breath flow over her neck softly, his mouth opening to bite down right below her ear. She shook terribly as he bit down and began crying. Why was this happening? She thought. She normally has perfect control over her emotions! The short gust of tears were now gone, replaced with a fiery anger.

    He gasped as her body shot up, suddenly pushing up against his in a tight dance. He smiled dancing along with her, whispering in her ear softly, "I'll draw up a contract tonight." He breathed heavily as he spun her, before pushing close again, whispering again, "It'll be in your mail by tomorrow." He watched her skirt twist as her hips moved in a quick, teasing motion. He trailed after her, following the steps as best he could with her distraction. She danced away, running out the door and waving, shouting "Thank you!" Over her shoulder as she pushed against the door, running home in time to change. She changed quickly when she got home, washed her face, and dressed herself in pink, she dashed down the street to the small cafe on the corner.

    Cafe Fineness




    She stood behind the light pink counter, her dark hair pulled back, a fake smile dancing across her lips. She looked quite bored, it was slow this early. Glancing down at a Model Weekly she heard the bell ring weekly, not even bothering to glance up. She heard people gasping, and looked up through her eyelashes, blinking quickly, and gasping as well. Had he followed her here? She thought her composure calm, hiding the screaming fear deep inside. "How may I help you?" She asked smiling to hide her grimace, her stomach tightening in remembrance of the pain. Surely he couldn't recognize her, she had completely changed. How had he found her?! She squeaked internally. He smirked. He knew who she was, but he wasn't planning on giving her the chance to run. He ordered a special and went to sit down at a table alone, keeping his eyes on her.

    She shivered, knowing it would be too late to run, she brought him his coffee, trying to be calm. He smiled genuinely up at her, she quickly clicked her heels and walked off. Her body fought every instinct to run, he didn't seem to recognize her, or so it seemed to her. He drank his coffee slowly, happy from her clearly hidden agony. She was shaking terribly, had spilt multiple coffees on those who ordered them. apologizing politely and getting them another. She was a nervous wreck! She glared at the clock as the seconds ticked by, he still sat there, sipping slowly on the coffee, as if an ice mokha could've burnt him. She managed to keep herself mostly calm for the day,. at 3:00 o'clock she dashed out of the store, waving with her hand she was leaving for the day. She ran straight home, pushing past tall people in the streets, racing ahead of cars as they revved their engines and honked their horns. When she got to the doors of her small apartment building, Mr. Souviniar, sat there on the steps, contract in hand. She fumbled around in her head, looking for something to say, finally blurting out. "It's not tomorrow." With a contented sigh, that someone was there so she wouldn't be alone, even if it was a complete stranger.

    He smiled to himself, quickly answering, having expected her to say so. "It's yesterdays tomorrow, I didn't say specifically, what tomorrow I meant." He looked over her outfit, his mind racing, his all too human heart beating against his ribs. She brushed the short frilly skirt with her hand absent mindedly, hearing his heart race. He swallowed harshly, seeing her eyes trying to pierce him. "P-pink looks good on you." His eyes trailed over her body, his aching to be close to her. She rolled her eyes and sat down close to him, smiling and curling up close to peek at the contract. He handed it to her, not wanting to be so close, so tempted. She leaned back, sitting up straight, still close to him in the autumn chill, reading over the contract. He offered her a pen, she smiled using the concrete to sign her name quickly handing it back to him. She stood, turning to go up the stairs. "Leaving so soon?" He questioned teasingly, hiding the actual curiosity with a weak laugh.

    She grinned at him, "you can come with, if you dare." She challenged, glad that he wanted to be close to her. She hid a blush as he opened the door for her, she led the way to a small white door, opening it and walking in. The poorly furnished dark room held her kitchen, bedroom, and living room in one. She sighed, looking up at his face, blank. How great. She thought, walking to the fridge and grabbing a small bottle of blood and putting it in the microwave. "You can sit down, the furnisher doesn't bite, thats my job." She flashed her fangs playfully, but looked away before she could see him wince and shrink into a chair. She sat down in front of him on another chair, looking at him completely relaxed a bottle of blood in her hand. They sat their for a while, in complete silence, she sipped her blood as he stared in shock at her.

    He finally shrugged it off and broke the silence. "So, uhm nice place you have here." His voice, shook as it echoed through the small apartment. He stopped talking again, the silence ringing clearer then his voice had. He looked around nervously, she still sat there, sipping on the bottle of blood. They both flinched as a brick flew through the window. She cowered deep into her chair, trembling nervously, as he got up to investigate. There on her bed lay a broken brick amongst shattered glass. She shivered and shook as he came back, brick in hand, covered in his own blood. He staggered, and fell to the ground, face buried in her carpet. His back was covered in more blood, a sleek arrow sticking out, a note attached to it. She got up, pulling the note off and setting it aside, running to get a towel before breaking the arrow off. She pressed down on the towel firmly, trying to stop the blood, while dialing 911. The operator answered in a kind, sweet, and caring voice. Hello? It could be heard through the phone. "A man has been shot by an arrow in my room. He's laying face down on the floor, I have pressure on his wound." She sounded bored, even though she was shocked to the bone. What do you take me for?! An idiot?! The calm caring voice turned aggravated instantly, snapping at her, for lying, when she wasn't. "Ma'am I'm sure you think I'm lying, but I promise I'm not, please get him help." You're LYING! Don't call me, ma'am! You could've made it more believable if you had at least used a weapon from this era! She winced as the voice came out in angry bursts through the phone, she looked down at his body, breathing ruggedly beneath her. Her calm collected composure broke, and she began yelling back. "Get a damned ambulance here! Now!! Before he dies preferably!" She hung up, throwing the phone angrily at the wall, watching it shatter and fall to the floor.

    She stood and cradled the large man to her petite figure, jumping out the window, not bothering to waste time fumbling with the door. She landed on the hard concrete, with no noise except its groan in defiance as it cracked beneath their weight. She halted there, stunned still, there he stood the small Indian hunting bow in hand, the other half of the broken brick in the other, grinning maliciously. She cried out, in anger and fear, setting him down against the wall, crouching protectively in front of him. He looked at her protective crouch, then at the man she was protecting. He flashed her a quick grin, shooting over her with his last arrow, and hitting him directly in the heart. She heard a loud, deep, gargling scream come from behind her, thats when she lost it. His uneven heart beat had kept her calm, she let a loud growl slip from deep within her throat as she jumped on him. She tore at him, blinded by pain and furry. Her teeth met his flesh, and she grinned as he screamed, ripping at his throat. She dug her manicured nails deep into his shoulders, feeding off of him as he died, a more painful death, then he had caused her. The images flooded her mind as she stood up and ran away from the bloody scene. If only she hadn't went to the audition she did two years back. She fled, far away from the old apartment in New York, away from the bloody men. She had loved them both, one she still felt the pang of new love, and the other she only felt hatred for the pain he brought instead of happiness as a present of love. She fumbled as she swam across the ocean, cleaning her blood stained clothes. She was lost in her own mind, letting her instincts take over when she was on land again. She fed when hungry, draining bodies completely, leaving corpses to rot away. She couldn't sleep, even though she had no need, she felt exhausted, the thoughts keeping her up. She thought about how he had smiled at her when she was most vulnerable to him, how badly he had burnt her, the scars ached. Then there were the fresher, clearer memories, tinted red with anger, her blood stained apartment, his cries of agony, the dance studio, the arrow, the... Note! The thought came back to her as she realized she was running back, it had been months sense she had left New York. She had payed for the year though, so her apartment should still be intact.. She found herself diving into the ocean, swimming beneath the water to go unnoticed.

    She slowed down when she reached the town, walking at a fast pace for a human, she walked past the police station, past the stores, to her apartment, all the while people staring at her in fear. She walked down the alley where the two men she had loved, died. She looked up, scaling the wall easily to her apartment, looking through the window. It was still bloody as she had left it, and she climbed in, stepping on dried blood. She cringed looking around what was once her home, now only a hallow shell of what it once was. She tried, desperately, to shrug it off as she walked to the chair she had set the note. She quickly unfolded the bloodied paper, reading the large, smeared, print.

    Wake Up



    A Night Mares Reality

    She woke, in her own bed, sweet and cool air flooding her lungs. She jerked herself up, leaning against the head board, her heart pounding. She looked around, the room was hers, not the room from her dream apartment, but her room, at her parents house, in Wisconsin. She gripped her throat, still shaking from screaming, so terrified. Laurence wouldn't hurt her like that, he couldn't, could he? He loved her... He said so, and the ring on her finger only made his love physical. She climbed out of her bed, stiff, her long red hair hung to her waist in a tangled mess. Her green eyes sparkled, squinting against the bright light as she turned it on before stepping into the large blue bathroom. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, her stomach was tight and unmarred. She smiled contently to herself, grabbing the pale blue brush and jerking it through her long curls. She glanced at the clock before stepping into the light sky colored shower, steaming water beating down on her small body. Her wet hair slapped against her back loudly as she stepped out of the steamy glass shower. She reached for her towel, but it was in her hand before she could reach the counter.

    Her hand brushed skin and she jumped, her eyes opening instantly, warmth and bliss now gone, a shiver crawled down her spine as she stared at him. He smiled and held the towel for her, beckoning her to his soft arms, his eyes tracing her body. "Hello, my lovely Badriyyah!" He said warmly, wrapping the towel around her shoulders hugging her small body to his largely built frame. Her body relaxed as he took her into his arms, sighing happily, thinking to herself, see, he does love me! His hands slid from her shoulders, down her sides, feeling. Caressing. Loving. Wanting. Needing. A small gasp slipped through her clenched teeth as his hand slid between her and the towel, he was colder then normal.

    "Laurence..." She whimpered, turning to burry her face in his chest. "Two days..." She mumbled, adding until our wedding, to herself as his lips found hers. She struggled, effortlessly against his stone chest, fighting for freedom of his stone arms. He walked carelessly despite her obvious efforts for freedom, he walked to her bed before dropping her. She bounced once, and fell onto her back, looking up at him, he looked more pail then the last time she saw him... He pinned her arms above her head as she watched his face, his smoky gray eyes slowly fading. Darkening. Dulling. She cringed away as his pale lips spread, clear white fangs growing in place of K-9's. "Laurence?" She repeated, her voice quaking with fear, trying to fight him off of her.

    He leaned close to her, holding both her hands in one of his, his other gripping tightly to her stomach, for some reason this seemed more painful to her then it should. He whispered softly in her ear, seducing her, making her fight not to push up against him. "You were with him." He accused her, pulling back enough to shower her with fear from his now pained midnight eyes. She flinched, his deep voice echoing in her mind, she couldn't think straight. She looked up at him, her emerald eyes lost and confused, he understood immediately. "You... You cheated on me... With him... Your pregnant with his child!" She grimaced, wishing to be able to just go back to her nightmare, she'd rather be alone then in her current situation.

    "I have done no such thing! I'm not pregnant!" She screamed in only a whisper, her voice harsh from the pain of his accusation. She cried out in agony as he clutched her stomach tighter, her body acting automatically to protect her unknown, unborn child. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, his glare only making them come faster. "I love you Laurence... I have laid with no other man." She whispered, pained, and afraid. He didn't bother even acknowledging her plea, but instead standing up and throwing her over his shoulder. He carried her out of her house, kicking and screaming, to the backyard. She fought against his tight grip on the back of her thighs, long legs bruised from kicking his chest of stone, her throat soar from screaming for parents that failed to answer. She gave it one last kick, trying to hook her foot between his legs, and bring her knee up. He set her down in front of a big oak tree and looked at her briefly, a fake wave of pain spreading across his perfectly carved demonic angels face. A slow, evil, malicious grin spread across the same face that had told her I love you, hunny so many times. No this wasn't the same face, this was different, more solid, evil, painful... He snatched a rope from next to her while she pondered about the man she had loved, tying it tightly around her bruised body, running off. She screamed, hoping someone would come and untie her before he came back. The only person to round the house was the tall, pail, Laurence, the man of her dreams, a red can in his hand. "Laurence?!" She cried out, fighting the ropes as he poured what she now recognized as gasoline from the container, all over her. He still didn't answer her calls, he just continued on. He dropped a match on her, and walked away, her frail body catching on fire. She cowered effortlessly into the solid dark wood, trying to escape the burning flames that covered her stomach and part of her legs. She screamed, both words, and pointless metallic shrieks. Her consciousness began to slip, her body limp now against the fuel for her demise, her eyes fluttered, before falling closed, she caught a glimpse of a short, rounded, blurry man.

    ~*Hours Later In The Hospital*~

    She lay in a bed, it wasn't hers, it stank of metal, and blood. She didn't bother opening her eyes, hoping it would be a dream, and she could think her way out of it. She heard faint footsteps slowly coming closer, then a small rattling by her feet. "Badriyyah, Laila, MeKoar, third degree burns ranging from her abdomen to the top of her thighs." She heard another voice whisper something in reply, she heard footsteps creep closer, picking up her left arm. This hurt. She tried not to scream, her mouth twitched and she grumbled in deviance, wanting the pain to seize. "Badriyyah?" Someone called her name, a slight Russian accent twisting her name to where she hardly recognized it. Her eyes fluttered open in response and she stared up at a doctor leaning over her. "Good your awake." He said coldly, his accent less obvious now. She tried to speak, but nothing came out. "Don't bother, Mr. Whitkney will take you home when we release you, rest up, it'll be a while." Home?! She wanted to scream, she couldn't go home of all places! Her parents would just hand her over to Laurence and he would try to kill her again. She tilted her head slightly, wincing from the movement, and looked around. It was a small hospital room, beeping machines surrounded her, she noticed a short man looking up at her. His face was pail, rounded, and worried, his body was dressed in black. The preacher? He had saved her, but he worked for the church Laurence owned, didn't he know the risk of interfering?! An hour passed as she stared at the balding mans hung head, his hands folded, praying. The doctor with the funny Russian accent came back in, with two nurses at his flanks, one tall, dark skinned, pale haired, and thin, the other short, golden skinned, and medium weight, completely bald, a breast cancer ribbon on the front of her uniform. They both began to unhook various IV's as the doctor picked up the clipboard and signed it, the sound rough, echoing in the nearly silent room. "You can go." He said, matter-of-factly, setting it back down, and scurrying out of the room, the nurses on his heels.

    She struggled from the bed, stiff, and very pained, limping slightly, she walked slowly towards the preacher. She rested her hand on his shoulder, looking at him gratified, unable to say thank you to him. He looked up at her, his pale blue eyes worried, "you can stay with me, and my wife." His voice was lolling, comforting, she smiled despite the pain, and he walked with her out the door, holding her shoulders with one arm, the other holding a blood stained bible to his side.