AN: Hello, wonderful people! Things are about to hit to road starting with this chapter! We'll finally see a ( very small) glimpse of our hero/ monster. Hope you like it ! :)
Peace out
fearless-hamster
The following day
Something about the old smell of books always seemed to comfort Margo.
People might come and go, friends of yesterday might turn into foes of tomorrow, feelings might disappear as inexplicably as they once blossomed, but books remained steady. A cherished constant in an ever changing mad world.
While the duty at the tavern helped her meet her dear friend Benjamin, it was the position at the local library that calmed Margo's spirits and soothed her erratic thoughts. "It certainly helps that the likes of Quintus do not frequent such places. The sight of so many books in one place might send the miserable bastard into shock," mused Margo while chuckling under her breath and stashing yet another manuscript on its right shelf.
Checking to see the next book's title in the pile of tomes she had under her arm, the young girl blushed slightly –"A Midnight's Torrid Affair" explicit title certainly left nothing to the imagination about what the contents might be. Though inappropriate for a lady to read such books, Margo could admit to having borrowed a few of such novels in the past and reading them under the candlelight, while tucked away in her chambers. Her Nana would certainly approve of her forward thinking. Her father, not so much. She mentally shook herself at the thought of Mr Hartwell discovering her literary endeavours, oscillating between utter mortification and sheer amusement.
Poor Mr. Fredor, I do not even think he is aware of the existence of such a such an eyebrow raising section in his well respected library," giggled Margo out loud.
"Did you say something, dear?" called out the owner from the front of the library.
"Everything is alright, Mr Fredor! Just a pesky spider preying on unsuspecting girls!" replied Margo, finding an excuse for her outburst quickly. It just would not do to uncover her romance novels and deprive the women of town of them. A noble act indeed.
After ordering the remaining books, Margo went to look for Mr Fredor. Carefully climbing the spiral wooden staircase, she had a suspicion regarding the gentle old men's whereabouts. As always, it was the mythology and fantasy aisle where she found him. Lost amid dozens of books and chasing wild dreams.
"Ahh, Margo, there you are. My dear, if you are finished stacking those, then you are free to go. Thank you for your help, Child," said Mr. Fredor, raising his eyes from his lecture and smiling warmly at her. His thick-rimmed glasses made his dark eyes unusually large, reminding Margo of an old fuzzy rabbit.
"Mr. Fredor, are you certain this is all? I would not mind helping you clean up this wing", said Margo while eyeing the open manuscripts strewn across the floor. The pages depicted drawings of fantastic beasts that would certainly haunt her dreams that night. She wondered again how the library owner's fascination with the supernatural came to be.
"No, no, darling...Home you go! My work here is far from over. I will see you again in three days. Make sure to send my regards to your lovely grandmother from me, please," added Mr. Fredor sheepishly while avoiding her gaze. "And do take care, dear! It is dark already outside."
"Of course!"Margo smiled – her Nana and Mr. Fredor would make a nice couple.
.........................
Stepping into the crisp air of the night, the young woman shuddered from the cold, bringing her woolen shawl closer to her body. It was the end of October and no matter how hard she tried to pretend otherwise, the bohemian days of warm weather and gentle sun were over. By the way the wind was blowing so harshly, Margo could foresee an early winter upon their town.
I cannot wait to have a hot cup of tea and some warm chocolate biscuits when I arrive back home. With that tempting thought in mind, Margo started walking towards the mansion. She could almost feel the sweet taste of her favourite herbal tea and the soft material of her favourite blanket enveloping her. She would light up a few scented candles and perhaps...
Heavy footsteps suddenly disrupted the silence of the night, interrupting Margo's thoughts.
Curious as to whom would be out on such a cold bloody weather, she turned and almost froze when she recognised Quintus Boore's ugly sneer staring back at her.
"Hello, Margo dear. Such a pleasure seeing you!" drawled the man, the tone of his voice belying his true wicked intentions. In the faint light of a nearby streetlamp, the ugly bruises marring Quintus' face appeared even more frightening than she remembered them from the day before at the tavern. Margo instinctively took a step back.
Copying her movements, Quintus approached the girl intimidatingly, while grinning malevolently like a cat which finally caught the little mouse: "Not so courageous, now are we? Now that the Ruben brat is no longer here to fight your battles?"
Finally finding her voice, Margo replied, trying hard not to let her growing fear show: "Boore, the hour is growing late. This is hardly the time for a friendly chit-chat," she sarcastically said. She mentally applauded herself for not stuttering. She read somewhere that a lion would strike its victim at once should it smell the scent of fear. Perhaps if I put up a brave front, Boore will leave me alone, Margo thought wistfully.
He snickered. "What I have in mind has nothing to do with friendly, girl. Au contraire, it will be extremely pleasurable for me, not so sure about you however," he hissed threateningly while making a lunge for her arm.
Caught unaware, Margo shrieked when Quintus' fingernails dug painfully into her skin, tearing her dress' sleeve. She knew very well what could happen to her if she did not quickly find out a way out of this escalating mess. I won't go down with a fight, you bastard! Driven by her growing rage and fright, she gathered her all her force and kicked him in the groin as hard she could.
"Uhhhh, you bitch!" Quintus yelled while crashing to the paved ground, dramatically clutching his privates in both hands. "You will pay for this!"
At least all those silly romances of mine taught me something about a man's vulnerabilities...
Wasting no time to look at the damage caused, Margo hurriedly dashed into the street, getting as far away as possible from that ogre. As life's irony would have it, Boore Quintus happened to assault her right on the outskirts of town and his hulking form was now blocking the only path towards the town centre. Running into the unknown was the only viable option she had. Just my bloody luck.
Jumping over a few rocks, Margo could start to feel soft grass underneath her shoe soles. Under the soft glow of the stars, she could almost distinguish the woods in the distance. Getting closer, she recognised the tall imposing trees. They guarded an ancient graveyard, so old that not even the elders of her town knew anyone of those buried there. It was one where she enjoyed to play as a child. Now, it was an escape from the raving lunatic that was chasing after her.
This means I am not as far from home as I thought! Just a little more and I might actually make it out alive this infernal night...
Passing the trees, she crossed the rusted black gates and entered the forgotten cemetery. Maybe it was because of the adrenaline pumping through her veins or the fear accelerating her heart, but she could have sworn she felt eyes watching her every move. She trembled at the thought.
Perhaps, the undead are restless as well, tonight. She could only hope they were on her side.
Failing to hear Boore anymore, Margo tried to keep herself hidden behind the large tombstones and advance out of the graveyard as silently as possible. The moon was currently behind black clouds and her night vision was even worse than usual. That was both a blessing and a curse. It meant Boore was also having a hard time finding her.
Presently, she was crouched behind a massive monument decorated with broken weeping angels made of marble, perched on the corners. Upon closer inspection, the tomb stone also had a rather usual feature that made Margo gasp, aghast .
A horrid horned devil's face was staring at her from the top of the monument.
Its beady eyes seemed grotesque and could only be topped by the even more unusually sharp teeth that were peeking from the monster's mouth. Who would adorn a funerary monument with such a blasphemy? She glanced down. The letters on the stone were long washed by the cruel passing of time, forever concealing the identity of the person resting in the ground beneath her.
Margo risked looking for signs of Boore, peeking her head in front of the tomb. Unfortunately, the moon chose that moment to unveil itself from the clouds, casting the graveyard in light. Hence, the shadows gave way to even more terrific things than the darkness.
Boore revealed himself mere feet from her hiding place, and by the look on his face, he was none to pleased for her hurting his family jewels. Without letting her react, he jumped on her, pinning her legs beneath his own.
"There you are, you bitch! I grow tired of this stupid hide and seek game of yours!" he yelled madly, his saliva hitting her neck while she recovered her breath.
She frantically tried unbuckling him off of her by lifting her torso, but it was no use. He was too damn heavy. Thankful that her arms were still free for the moment, she lifted them above her head and savagely tried to scratch his eyeballs. She would not, could not let him take advantage of her. If worst came to be, she could only hope to inflict as much damage as she was able.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk...You are just not giving up, are you Margo? While I like'em feisty, it's good I came prepared this time," saying this, he uncovered a wickedly sharp knife and pointed it at her throat.
Margo ceased her movements– she was not dumb. Judging by the mad look in Boore's eyes, he would not hesitate to murder her right away if she put up anymore fight.
"That is a good girl," he exclaimed and pressed the blade closer to her skin, drawing up blood. Margo could feel the warm crimson liquid flowing over her neck onto the cold tomb. The dry earth immediately sucked up the blood, as if accepting a pagan sacrifice from the olden times. Margo felt lightheaded at the thought.
"Now, let the fun begin." He began to tear the shawl off her.
She lifted her gaze toward the sky and a few helpless furious tears began pouring from her dark eyes, despite her will not to show her attacker any emotion. It seemed ironic to her how the full moon could shine so brightly and majestically up in the sky whilst there on the ground such monstrous sins were taking place. Even the horned head above her did not seem as terrible as the beast of man currently struggling to rip her buttons off.
Margo closed her eyes. Her fingers clenched, trying to find a way to inconspicuously grab the wicked blade. She desperately wished for a miracle to happen. Maybe a fearsome storm to come up and a thunderbolt to strike Boore dead. Or perhaps an earthquake to swallow him whole. Her imagination must have been very strong: she could almost feel the earth shaking.
Her eyelids abruptly popped open. Something was moving underneath her indeed. What the hell? Even more terror flooded her blood. A rapist bastard and now moving worms under her. The night could not have been more disastrous.
The shaking was growing worse by the second.
Then, it suddenly stopped. In fact, all the noises around them stopped. The entire graveyard was eerily quiet, only Boore's unsuccessful tries to unbutton her dress seemed to disrupt the mysterious silence of the night.
Suddenly, a rotten arm shot rapidly from the earth near Margo's right ear, forcefully grabbing Boore by the neck and squeezing with an unnatural power.
Margo screamed. The night could have been worse indeed.