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Twisted Like Crazy

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The rain was like drops of liquid ice as they sunk past the many folds of her dress and made contact with her skin. The water made her mascara run, black tears trailing down her cheeks. Her perfect golden ringlets had turned to a puffy blond mess and her fingernails had turned a mixture of purple and blue.

Her heels made a harsh clinking sound against the dirty cobblestone, the frequent clanks echoing off the brick walls of the abutting apartments bringing a satisfied half smile to her painted lips. Whenever she passed a window, that wasn’t shattered, she looked at her reflection. A drenched wreck. Her dress was completely saturated and shades darker then when she left. But it didn’t matter, and she didn’t try to find cover to wait out the storm. Lightning cracked and lit up the gloomy sky. She wanted out. Wanted to get away.

“Melanie!” a rich voice called, the sound barely audible under the rolling waves of thunder. But his voice reached her ear nonetheless and a frustrated sigh escaped her lips out of habit. She didn’t turn to meet the voice, that dammed streetwalker. Instead, she clenched her fists, her soft knuckles turning white, and picked up her pace along the rocky street.

“Melanie! Damn it, woman! Stop walking!” she could take it, him, no longer.

“Leave, Michael. Leave me.” She stopped and turned to face him. Stupid. His hair was still tousled and dampened by the rain. Pink lips, that didn’t belong to her, dotted his tanned and hollow cheeks. She closed her eyes tightly and her sharp fingernails dug into her palms. No use, stupid, stupid girl. This monster wouldn’t go away if eyes were close and chants of denial were spoken. Even in darkness of her shut eyes, she could see his cleft chin and pronounced jaw. His angelic, umber eyes and unshaven jaw. Strong callused hands the once ran along her fleshy body.

When she opened her eyes once again, the monster hadn’t gone away. Shirt white, unbuttoned, and untucked. He was barefoot and his calves were splattered with a mixture of dirt and rain water.

“Fuck you!” she screamed. He just stood there, taking her words, her anger, and her spit. “You vial, indecent, cocky, idiotic, poisonous snake! How the fuck could you!” the words felt good as they poured out of her mouth and fell from her lips. “You. You! I can’t believe you would do this! To me, to us!” she paused to think and catch her breath. Her screaming was beginning to take a toll on her lungs and throat, but it didn’t hurt too much, not yet, and, by gods, it was worth it.

Like knives, she jabbed insults at him, wishing foolishly that they physically hurt and weighted him down. “You horrid, evil, foul, lousy, grimy, cheating, dishonest, vulgar, severe, disgusting, beastly, ghastly, wretched, rotten, godawful excuse for a man!” each slur was followed by an angry step forward and soon Michael’s back was pressed against the wall of an ally.

“I-I-I’m sor-sorrrry.” He managed to stammer, his voice faltering for an instant. He licked his lips slowly and spoke again. “I am truly and utterly and wholly sorry.” His eyes bore into hers, umber against hazel.

“You. You think. That you. Can just say. That you’re sorry?” it started out a whisper, but by the end she was in a fit of hysteric laughter. “Oh! Oh fucking no!” she waved her hands in his face and mocked him, “Oh! Melanie! I’m so soooooorry!” she spat on his chest, “Ha! No, no, no sir!”

“Melanie.” He spoke calmly, angering her further.

“What!?” he took steps towards her, backing her onto a fence.

He pressed his body close. So close she smelt him. The fresh scent that, at any other time, would have made her melt and surrender. “Melanie.” He entangled his think fingers into her hair and put a knee in-between her thighs while pushing her body up.

“Be with me, Melanie.” He whispered in her ear before kissing down her jaw and neck. She felt her defenses melting and started to squirm. Not again.

His kisses became more desperate and needy. They sunk lower and she felt her resistance slip from her fingers as she moaned in pleasure. Then he pulled her hair painfully and she regained her control.

“No.” she said to herself.

“What,” kiss, “Love?” kiss.

“Nothing, nothing.” She pushed his head to the swell of her breasts. Groping behind her, she grabbed onto a loose, cast iron fence post. Wrapping her hands around the freezing metal, she pulled it free as Michael’s hands moved to unlace the back of her dress, forgetting or ignoring the rain. “Please,” he said between kisses and licks and bites, “Please, please stay.”

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