12-22-2017, 08:58 PM
Dane grunted under the weight of his burden. He might have put her down and retrieved her form with arms of power, but doing so would dirty her clothes and muss her hair. He preferred she remain pristine and beautiful as she was now.
He spun wires of light into a lantern that led his way. The light kept all darkness at bay, but with every step, the long tier of his shadow was cast behind him. Tall shelves, empty but for an overturned box or discarded can, lined his path like morbid sentinels. None entered this building since his occupancy claimed its unofficial lease from among the homeless. Even the rodents long ago confiscated the remaining dry goods that might be their next meal.
At the back of the store, long glass cases lay empty. The lantern cast sparks of light across stainless steel counters behind them. A butchery, Dane thought as he cradled the warm body in his arms. The space held no interest for him, despite the poetic symbolism encased within. Those tiled walls may have well been a coffin, but they were not his destination. Arms burning, he hurried his pace.
Two doors swung on free hinges with the touch of his hip. They swung closed behind him with loud squeaks, disturbing the rodents in the sudden brightness. He thought he saw a cat dart hastily from sight.
Panting, he carried Annalise to an abandoned desk and laid her out upon it. She groaned, but turned her head aside and returned to slumber. He dropped into a creaky chair and let his arms fall to his lap. Another reason to select a woman sleight of form and lean of fat. He couldn't carry anyone much heavier than her, not without using power anyway.
He switched on a battery powered light and let the latern snuff out, then hauled himself off to what was probably the manager's office to discard his coat and retrieve a bottle of water. The building was cold, the water was rereshing. When he returned to Annalise, she had rolled and curled up upon herself. Annoyed, Dane pulled her arms and legs flat again, arranged her hair, and straightened her clothes. Her skin was ice-cold, so he tossed a blanket across her stomach while she slept it off.
He waited another half-hour for the drug's effect to wane. Meanwhile, he paced back and forth from the office, looked through the other belongings he'd stocked there. Finally, he tossed a prized possession aside with a clatter and pulled up a movie on his Wallet to keep himself distracted. When she groaned, put a hand to her temple, and stirred, he hurried from his seat and came to her side. "Annalise, can you hear me?"
He asked, voice soft, accent smooth.
"Yes. Whats going on? Am I sick?"
Her eyelids fluttered in the harsh LED light. Dane stroked the hair from her forehead.
His teeth clenched. "No. You're not sick. You were drugged during our date."
He leaned close and touched his cheek to hers, taking a long whiff of her shampoo, but the scent was clouded by alcohol and exhaust fumes.
"Dane?"
She asked as memory stirred her mind. She recognized his voice. This was a good sign.
"Yes Annalise?"
He pushed his palm down her body. The cloth of her dress slipped under his hand. She weakly tried to lift herself, but Dane easily held her still. His other hand snaked toward a handle previously laid alongside.
"Where am I?"
She continued. She was starting to question her surroundings. Clarity was returning. With it, came the tremble to her voice.
Dane's voice trembled as well. He squeezed his eyes shut, heart pounding, gut turning. Warmth spread through his body. She yelped at the grip of his hand. When she yanked her wrist away, excitement turned to fury, and Dane snatched it back and slammed her arm to the desk. His eyes flashed with the promise of death, his jaw set, he locked onto her gaze. "You are in the place where you will die."
Her eyes flared with recognition. She saw the blade in his hands. She was utterly alone. She screamed for help.
In a flash, he jumped the table and straddled her waist. With the swing of his arms, the edge of a blade plunged into her stomach. The screaming gurgled. Her hands grabbed the blade but slipped on the blood, cutting deep lines into her palms. He held the sword's hilt, a cheap replica, but perfectly functioning, until the blade came to stillness. The kicking stopped.
Dane had not known when he took hold of the power. It flowed through him. He was more alive in this moment than ever before. He savored it, wishing time would stop so he could preserve this moment forever. Preserve it like he did the others laid nearby, waiting.
He licked his lips as he looked down upon his prize. Her arms hung limp. Her stomach, neck and chest were bloodied. The sword puckered a hole, tight with the edges of her dress, down into her stomach.
He hurried to remove his pants while the body was still warm. When he pulled the body close to the edge, he shook violently all over upon that first touch to the thigh. Heat prickled his every hair. He gasped painfully. When the moment of ecstasy came, he closed his eyes, looked upward and cried a single name.
"ARIA."
He spun wires of light into a lantern that led his way. The light kept all darkness at bay, but with every step, the long tier of his shadow was cast behind him. Tall shelves, empty but for an overturned box or discarded can, lined his path like morbid sentinels. None entered this building since his occupancy claimed its unofficial lease from among the homeless. Even the rodents long ago confiscated the remaining dry goods that might be their next meal.
At the back of the store, long glass cases lay empty. The lantern cast sparks of light across stainless steel counters behind them. A butchery, Dane thought as he cradled the warm body in his arms. The space held no interest for him, despite the poetic symbolism encased within. Those tiled walls may have well been a coffin, but they were not his destination. Arms burning, he hurried his pace.
Two doors swung on free hinges with the touch of his hip. They swung closed behind him with loud squeaks, disturbing the rodents in the sudden brightness. He thought he saw a cat dart hastily from sight.
Panting, he carried Annalise to an abandoned desk and laid her out upon it. She groaned, but turned her head aside and returned to slumber. He dropped into a creaky chair and let his arms fall to his lap. Another reason to select a woman sleight of form and lean of fat. He couldn't carry anyone much heavier than her, not without using power anyway.
He switched on a battery powered light and let the latern snuff out, then hauled himself off to what was probably the manager's office to discard his coat and retrieve a bottle of water. The building was cold, the water was rereshing. When he returned to Annalise, she had rolled and curled up upon herself. Annoyed, Dane pulled her arms and legs flat again, arranged her hair, and straightened her clothes. Her skin was ice-cold, so he tossed a blanket across her stomach while she slept it off.
He waited another half-hour for the drug's effect to wane. Meanwhile, he paced back and forth from the office, looked through the other belongings he'd stocked there. Finally, he tossed a prized possession aside with a clatter and pulled up a movie on his Wallet to keep himself distracted. When she groaned, put a hand to her temple, and stirred, he hurried from his seat and came to her side. "Annalise, can you hear me?"
He asked, voice soft, accent smooth.
"Yes. Whats going on? Am I sick?"
Her eyelids fluttered in the harsh LED light. Dane stroked the hair from her forehead.
His teeth clenched. "No. You're not sick. You were drugged during our date."
He leaned close and touched his cheek to hers, taking a long whiff of her shampoo, but the scent was clouded by alcohol and exhaust fumes.
"Dane?"
She asked as memory stirred her mind. She recognized his voice. This was a good sign.
"Yes Annalise?"
He pushed his palm down her body. The cloth of her dress slipped under his hand. She weakly tried to lift herself, but Dane easily held her still. His other hand snaked toward a handle previously laid alongside.
"Where am I?"
She continued. She was starting to question her surroundings. Clarity was returning. With it, came the tremble to her voice.
Dane's voice trembled as well. He squeezed his eyes shut, heart pounding, gut turning. Warmth spread through his body. She yelped at the grip of his hand. When she yanked her wrist away, excitement turned to fury, and Dane snatched it back and slammed her arm to the desk. His eyes flashed with the promise of death, his jaw set, he locked onto her gaze. "You are in the place where you will die."
Her eyes flared with recognition. She saw the blade in his hands. She was utterly alone. She screamed for help.
In a flash, he jumped the table and straddled her waist. With the swing of his arms, the edge of a blade plunged into her stomach. The screaming gurgled. Her hands grabbed the blade but slipped on the blood, cutting deep lines into her palms. He held the sword's hilt, a cheap replica, but perfectly functioning, until the blade came to stillness. The kicking stopped.
Dane had not known when he took hold of the power. It flowed through him. He was more alive in this moment than ever before. He savored it, wishing time would stop so he could preserve this moment forever. Preserve it like he did the others laid nearby, waiting.
He licked his lips as he looked down upon his prize. Her arms hung limp. Her stomach, neck and chest were bloodied. The sword puckered a hole, tight with the edges of her dress, down into her stomach.
He hurried to remove his pants while the body was still warm. When he pulled the body close to the edge, he shook violently all over upon that first touch to the thigh. Heat prickled his every hair. He gasped painfully. When the moment of ecstasy came, he closed his eyes, looked upward and cried a single name.
"ARIA."