Heres a chapter of Only Ashes for you all to read, to get you in the mood for the release! #020414 #onlyashes Chapter Seven Heavy and ornate curtains were draped over wide bay windows, letting in tiny slithers of light. Lorna woke from an oddly a deep and refreshing sleep, which had been dreamless and beautifully natural. For one moment she lay in the enormous bed and watched the pale sunshine dance over her outstretched fingers. She had utterly forgotten where she was, forgotten the threats that were made against her, and the way she was grabbed and drugged from the street. The bed that she found herself in was so soft and comfortable that she was happy, a sleep-clogged mind letting her nestle into the warm sheets without the pesky taint of memory. Lorna pulled the dark red bed sheets tighter around her, as the air on her bare arms was icy cold, and she lowered herself further under the covers, so that only her eyes peered out, lazily viewing the beautiful bedroom she had found herself in. It was then that she felt a twinge of pain in her wrist, and looked to the bandage wrapped tightly around her. She also saw the purple bruise spreading out on her other wrist, and like a floodgate opening, everything poured back into her conscious state. Lorna sat bold upright in the bed, her breathing suddenly erratic and shallow, her body held rigid. Lorna was lying in a dark wood, four-poster bed, like something a fairytale princess would wake up in. The wood was carved as a tree, with twisting branches rising into a beautiful flowing canopy of flowing deep red velvet drapes. Across the wide room there was a dark wood dressing table, again, beautifully carved around a stunning oval vanity mirror. The carpet was thick and fluffy, several intricate Persian rugs resting on the surface. Everything in the room looked formal and old, like a palace, or like the display room in one of the old manor houses her parents had sometimes taken her to visit as a child. Lorna leapt out of the bed, so quickly that she gave herself a head rush. She tried the heavy wooden door first of all, but it was locked solid. She pulled at the glass handle until her injured wrists screamed from the effort. Then she rushed over to the windows, throwing back the heavy curtains. The scene outside was of some kind of abandoned scrap yard, piles of tires and rusty metal amid formidable warehouses, but no life to speak of. The rain hammered down on the depressing scene as she tried, with no success, to shift the heavy window open. She tried all three windows, to no avail. Her fingers were soon covered in tiny lines were the wooden frame had dug into her skin. It was so cold in the room that she almost wanted to leap back into the warm and comforting bed. Her whole body shivered deeply as she rifled through the drawers on the dresser table. Lorna felt more than a little violated, as she was dressed only in her t-shirt bra and thin cotton vest, and nothing covered her legs except the cotton briefs she had been wearing under her jeans. The thought of that grinning, beautiful man undressing her filled Lorna with rising bile, and a itching feeling all over her skin. For a moment, it was as though the room was closing in on her, while her stomach churned uncomfortably. She was filled with another dark shot of that strange pain, and she breathed through it, desperate to continue her search for a way out. As beautiful as this place was, it was a prison, and she was still a captive. She was halfway through groping under the bed for a key, or a heavy object, or anything that would help her escape, when she hear the soft clicking sound of a key being inserted into a lock. The door swung open, and before Lorna could consider any other alternative, she ran to the gap. She felt that strong nauseous feeling again, that something had contaminated her. The same handsome man stepped through the doorway where she launched her escape attempt, with one arm he grabbed her around the waist, and she felt yet more disgusted where he touched her bare skin. He threw her off as though she was weightless, and she landed without a sound on the soft carpet, while he firmly locked the door behind him. Lorna’s breathing took a while to die down, while the adrenaline faded from inside her. ‘I thought you might like this,’ he approached her calmly, as if nothing had just happened between them. In his other hand, the one that hadn’t grabbed her, there was a large and steaming mug of tea - their struggle hadn’t even broken the surface. ‘I know how you British love your tea.’ The bolts of cold light from the windows made a pattern across his skin, illuminating his ghostly whiteness. Today he was dressed in a plain black t-shirt and black jeans; he was still effortlessly stylish though. Despite everything, Lorna smelt that sweet and calming sent of his, which transported her back to her childhood. ‘No, thank-you,’ Lorna said miserably, her voice croaking. She reflected with disappointment on how tragically her first escape attempt had gone. Her eyes followed him across the room, watching the front pocket where he had put the door key. Lorna wondered if he was quick enough to stop her if she made a sudden lunge for the key. ‘Would you like anything to eat?’ he asked, still speaking very calmly. He placed the mug of tea down on the ornate dressing table, Lorna noticed the mirror with a flash of excitement - if she broke a shard off the mirror she would have a weapon. ‘I don’t want anything from you,’ she shot up at him, her sudden idea about the mirror giving her courage. She rose to her feet steadily; she would not allow herself to stay crouched on the floor before him. Whatever happened, she would not let it happen willingly. He turned back to her, delivering another gorgeous smile in her direction. He paced gently over to her, standing face to face with her. As he swept his eyes hungrily over her semi naked body, Lorna bushed deeply. She reached over to the bed covers, trying to pull them towards herself; it was instinctual that she wanted to hide her nakedness. He gently pushed her hand away, and again, she felt a shudder of disgust at his touch. Like before, his small act against her was not acknowledged. ‘Lorna,’ he said softly, ‘right now, I am exerting all of my efforts to keep you safe. Refusing to eat and drink will somewhat jeopardize that.’ ‘I don’t care,’ she spat back at him, still ashamed by the way he had washed his eyes over her skin. He turned his head to the side, ‘when it comes time for the ritual,’ he said, sugary sweet, ‘you will thank me for keeping you strong.’ ‘I told you,’ Lorna said angrily, ‘my family doesn’t have any money; please just let me go home.’ Her voice wavered on the last few words, it came out whining and harsh, not the strong and fierce voice she had wanted. ‘I’m afraid your family has already forsaken you,’ he was still grinning, as though his words were an amusing joke. Lorna looked up at him, shadows danced across his face, and she took a step back from him, a sudden chill resting on her heart. ‘What did you say?’ ‘Please sit down,’ he gestured towards the bed. ‘No,’ Lorna folded her arms, more petulant child than defiant hostage. He laughed, and, taking her bare shoulders into his warm hands, he pushed her down hard, until she was sitting on the edge of the bed. Lorna was too dumbfounded to even react, she hadn’t fought back, and she was angry with herself for letting him touch her. Once again, that bone-deep feeling of abhorrence that his touch inspired in her had clouded her mind. It was truly strange, that he was so beautiful, and yet he disgusted her beyond rationality. ‘That’s better,’ he smiled. ‘Speaking of making you strong, let’s take a look at those wrists.’ Lorna feared his hands on her again, but she knew, pathetically, that she couldn’t fight, not yet. She braced herself for the creeping, unnerving feeling, as she held her hands out to him, her eyes drifted longingly over to the mirror. He unwrapped the bandaged wrist, and Lorna gritted her teeth against the pain, it was worse that it had been yesterday. She gasped as she looked down at the wound, the jagged cut was hanging grotesquely open, and the edges were hard, tinged with yellow. ‘It’s infected,’ he said with a frown, the first frown she had ever seen from him. ‘Hold still, I’ll have to break out one of my party tricks.’ he rubbed his thumb over the raw cut, it was agonizing, and Lorna twisted and pulled away from him. For a moment, she felt as though he were holding a match to her skin, it burned with a hard intensity that had her biting down on her bottom lip. Then, she felt nothing, no pain at all, even the stinging of the original wound. She felt a slight pressure where his finger still held her, but that was all that was left. Lorna looked down at her arm, and with a gasp, saw that nothing marked her skin, except a thin silver scar. ‘What?’ was all her stupid mouth could manage to utter. For most of her life, Lorna had relied on the laws of science, and had believed herself to be strong and unwavering atheist. All that vanished in those few seconds, she had seen a miracle, and all her strong convictions melted away. She was guilty and humiliated and defeated in one small blow, with one simple, impossible act. ‘You really are very beautiful,’ he said, holding her eyes in those astonishing dark ones, and smiling slyly at her. Lorna couldn’t stop staring at her completely healed arm. ‘How did-’ ‘You see Lorna,’ he cleared his throat neatly, ‘I deal in torture. Torture is a whole lot worse when you know there’s nothing I can do to you which will kill you. Even if you choose take the information I wish to know with you to the grave, it will be a long uphill battle to get to that grave.’ He was smiling again, but Lorna didn’t think he was joking, she thought he was being deadly serious, and she swiftly pulled her hands away from him. Her heat was racing fast enough to burst inside her chest. ‘Who are you?’ she asked in a shaky voice, far removed from the strong image she had wanted to project to him. ‘I’m so glad you asked,’ he smiled, ‘in this body,’ he looked down at himself approvingly, ‘my name is Callum.’ ‘Callum,’ Lorna repeated back to herself, trying to think if she had ever heard the name before. Callum nodded. ‘He was Callum Hutchens,’ he continued, ‘a city banker who, unfortunately did not think he could cope with the pressures of his high powered job, not to mention juggling an expensive trophy wife who he married too young and no longer loved.’ Lorna was awash with confusion, was he talking about himself? ‘Callum Hutchens decided this rather impressive body,’ he ran his hands along his suit jacket, ‘would look better splattered across a speeding train.’ ‘I don’t understand?’ ‘Then wait until I have explained it to you,’ he spoke patronizingly. ‘Since suicide is still considered somewhat of a sin,’ Callum continued, ‘the jury is out on where his soul belongs for all eternity.’ Lorna looked into his eyes for a hint of insanity, but he seemed completely certain of the things he was saying, his dark eyes were full of pure conviction. ‘While he’s waiting on a verdict, I straightened out his body, Because Lorna,’ he turned sharply to look at her, ‘you can’t imagine what a train will do to a human’s fragile flesh and bone.’ Another wide grin, ‘his body is on loan to me, I chose something you would find appealing.’ Lorna felt a shudder run through her, ‘me?’ He nodded through his slow smile, ‘I told you, I don’t want any money from you. I only want you.’ Slowly, painfully, Lorna put two and two together. She thought of the revulsion and loathing she felt when he laid his hands on her, and she felt instantly sick. To imagine anything else was beyond disgusting. Something about him was so vile, so utterly corrosive. Her whole body reacted as she leapt up from the bed. ‘I’ll scream,’ the words fell with regret from her mouth, ‘I’ll fight.’ They seemed small and pathetic against him, against what she already knew he could do. ‘Who wouldn’t,’ he shrugged, with another beautiful smile that suddenly caused Lorna to swallow back vomit. ‘I don’t have to remind you,’ he said, ‘that screaming, crying and fighting will do nothing to help you, not with me, and not with my servants.’ Lorna stared into his face, it was so difficult to take anything he said seriously, when it was all delivered calmly and smoothly. ‘I must say,’ he carried on, ‘it’s commendable, your virtue, at your age.’ ‘How did you know?’ Lorna found her voice shaking, embarrassed and humiliated to her core. ‘I have another, very specific gift,’ Callum said, watching her intensely. ‘I can read your sins,’ he smiled, as though he were looking at her like an open book. ‘I know that you’ve never known a man, in the biblical sense.’ Lorna flushed bright red. ‘I’m interested, are you waiting for marriage, or just the right cock?’ ‘Shut up,’ Lorna hissed at him, finding courage again as it came flooding back with her wounded pride. ‘Who are you?’ She asked again, ‘really?’ He rose to his feet silently, ‘You already know,’ he said, and somehow he seemed taller than she remembered. He towered above her. ‘You know me every time you lay awake at night, thinking about that boy you want.’ ‘Don’t talk about him,’ Lorna’s voice came out at a steady growl, the rage burning within her. ‘You know me every time you wish that girl looking at him the wrong way would trip over her feet and break her ankle. You know me every time you think something dirty, or wrong, or wicked. No matter how virtuous anyone on this filthy earth thinks they are, they all know me.’ ‘I don’t believe you,’ Lorna said in a shaking voice. ‘It doesn’t matter what you believe,’ Callum grinned. ‘You’re a part of the process now.’ ‘What do you want from me?’ Lorna asked, though, she had seen the movies, and, though the idea was abhorrent, she already knew the answer. ‘To lay with me,’ he said, eyes flashing dark, ‘and bear me a child.’
Posted on: Thu, 13 Mar 2014 10:39:55 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015