(no subject)

[charliehorse3.livejournal.com]

Here is the prologue to a new story I'm starting. I'm not sure what it is going to be called, but it will probably be called. "The Empties."
Warning: This story will contain violence, possibly swearing, etc. So I suggest you don't read it if you can't handle it..
The plot to the story, isn't mentioned in the prologue, but if you'd like to read about it I've posted it on my journal. You can check it out here: charliehorse3.livejournal.com/515.html


A door slammed, and out stepped a musty, young woman. She wore high heels and a dress, much too revealing, for her estimated age, and she muttered an unpleasant remark, in slurred speech, before marching down the street. She smelled, sickly, like alcohol and a whole bottle perfume. Her mascara was over applied and running, and her hair unnaturally bleached. Normally, he'd go for the more natural ones, but how could he object to such a perfect target? Drunk and practically pleading for company.

She too busy, focusing on walking, that she didn't notice him at first. It wasn't until he gripped her arm, and gave her his best 'charming' smile that she acknowledged his existence. "Why hello, miss," he said easily hooking her arm around his, "what is such a fine lady, as yourself, doing out here at this time of night?" 

At his words she seemed puzzled. She pulled her arm away and marched on, but it was only a matter of steps before she tripped on a crack in the pavement. She fell, scrapping her knee on the harsh pavement, and not long after was in tears. Reduced to a child, that had fallen for the first time, she didn't move. He was by her side, not long after, gently pulling her to her feet, "Miss are you okay?" he asked kindly. Brushing off the hem of her dress which had managed to get dirty.

"No," she sobbed, her pride broken in by a single fall. She wiped her eyes, which further smeared the mascara. Flinching slightly as the man bent down to estimate the damage done to her knee. He poked it not once, but twice, until she cried in pain. Coming back up, with the same pleasant smile, he offered her his hand. Hurt, and tried, she didn't care where she went anymore, and accepted his hand.

She was lead far downtown, not sure how far, but she knew it was at least ten blocks because she felt as if she were walking on nails. She protested several times to stop, but the man tugged her arm relentlessly. He was determined to reach where ever they were to go. She asked him a few times, what his name was and where they were going, but he didn't answer. He simply pulled her forward, down the street. Finally, she had enough, and tried to yank her arm away. Protesting, again, that she wasn't going any further. 

It was then, that he turned around, his handsome face screwed into a cruel sneer. "Doesn't matter, where are here already," and before she could react he shoved her back. She wanted to yell, or scream, but nothing came out. By the sudden force, of being pushed backward, her heel snapped, and down she fell. She tried to get up, but something heavy restrained her from doing so. Everything was happening in a blur.. Her wrist suddenly felt hot, and wet. Oh and it hurt, it hurt so much. Black patches blocking her strained vision, and she could see his face, smiling, at her. She was so tried, but the throbbing pain of her left wrist kept her awake. "Do you want to live?" a voice whispered gently.

She tried to escape, but she didn't have the energy to much but squirm. She had to get away, but in her struggles she became only more restrained. So, she nodded weakly. Was she dying? She didn't want to die! She couldn't.

"Okay," was the answer.