Act I The Stranger and The Betrayal
It was suppose to be another first for her, a kiss on New Years Eve to bring in the new year. She had never kissed on the New year and she was looking forward to sharing that with Grady. They were going to drink wine, maybe a little dancing on the beach and at Midnight they would share a kiss, whispering promises to each other about the upcoming new year. Everything was going to be perfect, she had even bought a dress, a cream colored silk slip of a dress that showed off her back like he liked.
She was greeted with a kiss, a hard passionate kiss that took her breath away, she loved when he took what he wanted from her - it made her heart race and she clung to him. It didn't take long before she was on her back on his bed, whispering Grady's name as she kept her eyes shut, listening to the man above her desperately try and take her. It felt like Grady, smelt like Grady, and he even held her like Grady. What she didn't know, not until it was too late, was that it was not Grady.
The gun shot echoed between her ears, causing her whole body to shudder, she fell back against the bed - the weight of a body pinning her against the sheets. Blood and gore dripped down her shoulder, slid down her face and for what seemed like a long time she simply laid there. A few thoughts ran through her head, the first one was that it was hard for to breathe, that the weight was going to crush her - and that crushing, the weight on her lungs meant that Grady was dead.
The screaming didn't start until she pushed at the dead body on top of her and realized, with growing horror two things. That the man on top of her was very much, not the blond haired, blue eyed man she thought he was. In fact the man was dark, all over, dark hair, dark eyes and dark skin. Her lover was very much alive and well, holding a smoking gun at the foot of the bed, he had seen everything.
"If I thought it would do any good, I would shoot you right here."
Humiliation crashed into her like a wave against the beach, and the pressure on her chest returned - the source this time was her own anxiety over what had just happened. Was she going mad? The man on the bed, the man who's brains were slowly easing out the hole in his head, had been at one point, Grady - she could have sworn. She would not purposefully bring another man into their bed, she would not bring a stranger - a man who she had never seen before into a place she had learned to call home. This was a dream, some sort of horrid nightmare brought on by stress about the wedding.
But she didn't dream, she didn't truly sleep - she simply closed her eyes and went to work, this, this darkness and confusion scared her to the point of tears. Coupled with her lover's rejection, and disbelief about her story - she broke down, crawling after him and begging for forgiveness. The humblest of servants, prostrate, mumbling and clutching at him as if he was the messiah. As if he was Jesus and she was the sick woman who crawled through the dirt and the jeers of onlookers, just to touch the hem of his garment. One touch to be healed.
Instead of healing she was turned away, his lack of response, of any real anger or violence toward her frightened her the most. If she could just take her punishment, get it done and over with this could all be over - everything could go back to as they were. The punishment never came and she was left wondering if he would ever forgive her. Deep down, she knew that she deserved no forgiveness - the trust she worked so hard to build with him, was shattered. He deserved better then her, someone who would not make obvious mistakes like this - someone who knew their lover from a complete stranger.
Distraught, confused, scared and lonely she disappeared from his side - leaving him to figure out if he wanted to spend the rest of his life with someone as worthless as she was. Instead of spending New Years Eve with her love, she spent it huddled in the guest room, in the freezing cold, smoking as much opium as she could - anything to escape the mess she had made of her life.
She was greeted with a kiss, a hard passionate kiss that took her breath away, she loved when he took what he wanted from her - it made her heart race and she clung to him. It didn't take long before she was on her back on his bed, whispering Grady's name as she kept her eyes shut, listening to the man above her desperately try and take her. It felt like Grady, smelt like Grady, and he even held her like Grady. What she didn't know, not until it was too late, was that it was not Grady.
The gun shot echoed between her ears, causing her whole body to shudder, she fell back against the bed - the weight of a body pinning her against the sheets. Blood and gore dripped down her shoulder, slid down her face and for what seemed like a long time she simply laid there. A few thoughts ran through her head, the first one was that it was hard for to breathe, that the weight was going to crush her - and that crushing, the weight on her lungs meant that Grady was dead.
The screaming didn't start until she pushed at the dead body on top of her and realized, with growing horror two things. That the man on top of her was very much, not the blond haired, blue eyed man she thought he was. In fact the man was dark, all over, dark hair, dark eyes and dark skin. Her lover was very much alive and well, holding a smoking gun at the foot of the bed, he had seen everything.
"If I thought it would do any good, I would shoot you right here."
Humiliation crashed into her like a wave against the beach, and the pressure on her chest returned - the source this time was her own anxiety over what had just happened. Was she going mad? The man on the bed, the man who's brains were slowly easing out the hole in his head, had been at one point, Grady - she could have sworn. She would not purposefully bring another man into their bed, she would not bring a stranger - a man who she had never seen before into a place she had learned to call home. This was a dream, some sort of horrid nightmare brought on by stress about the wedding.
But she didn't dream, she didn't truly sleep - she simply closed her eyes and went to work, this, this darkness and confusion scared her to the point of tears. Coupled with her lover's rejection, and disbelief about her story - she broke down, crawling after him and begging for forgiveness. The humblest of servants, prostrate, mumbling and clutching at him as if he was the messiah. As if he was Jesus and she was the sick woman who crawled through the dirt and the jeers of onlookers, just to touch the hem of his garment. One touch to be healed.
Instead of healing she was turned away, his lack of response, of any real anger or violence toward her frightened her the most. If she could just take her punishment, get it done and over with this could all be over - everything could go back to as they were. The punishment never came and she was left wondering if he would ever forgive her. Deep down, she knew that she deserved no forgiveness - the trust she worked so hard to build with him, was shattered. He deserved better then her, someone who would not make obvious mistakes like this - someone who knew their lover from a complete stranger.
Distraught, confused, scared and lonely she disappeared from his side - leaving him to figure out if he wanted to spend the rest of his life with someone as worthless as she was. Instead of spending New Years Eve with her love, she spent it huddled in the guest room, in the freezing cold, smoking as much opium as she could - anything to escape the mess she had made of her life.