Broken.

Bleeding.

Ravished.

It wasn’t how he wanted her. It wasn’t what he pictured. In his thoughts, in his mind she was smiling, golden, her sunshine accompanying his darkness. She was the light that would lift him upward, she was his redemption.

Now she was broken. Glassy eyed, staring at the wall, the bath robe lying on the floor. Mocking him, mocking her, taunting them with the knowledge of how badly things turned out.

Taunting him, teasing him, her voice filled his mind. ‘Monster’ she had said.

Memories overwhelmed him, disgusted him. Beauty and the beast – she was teasing, taunting all the time. She said no and slammed him against the crypt. She told him he disgusted her, he was a monster, all while she rode him to oblivion.

He disgusted her, yet she craved him.

Now he was the monster that she always said, she always knew.

Broken, bleeding, ravished.

Lying there on the floor.

He cried, he wailed, he sobbed. He begged her to react, to say something, to do something, even staking him would be a blessing.

She stared at the spot on the wall.

Broken, Bleeding, Ravished.

He waited until everyone left. Until the house was quiet, the world asleep. He placed her in a stolen jeep. Some clothes, the stuffed pig. He left no note.

Now he watched her, day after day. Combing her hair, kissing her cheek, singing lullabies to keep the other monsters away.

She stared at the wall.

Broken

Broken, but his.

Warning … This is even darker then the first one … but apparently a dark prompt of Ravished can only lead me to this one conclusion. These both were presents for Spikeslovebite… but she might demand a refund.

Ravished

He reflects on what happened. What steps lead him further into darkness, what acts he committed when he lost control. The terror he felt afterwards, the primal satisfaction.

The man versus the demon, and he wasn’t sure where one stopped and the other began.

In the end, it always came down to the blood, to pain, to the darkness that dwelt within.

He didn’t mean to lose control. She always said no, right before she took him. This time she meant it. Did he really know?

The bits of William that surfaced took refuge in the thought that he hadn’t known. He didn’t know that she really meant it. He didn’t know she was injured. He didn’t know…

The demon laughed at him. Of course he knew. Deep inside he knew it was wrong. Deep inside he knew he should have stopped. Stopped before he pushed her away, before he broke her; stopped because it was wrong.

But the scent of blood was overwhelming; as she fought, as she kicked. He enjoyed it.

The wound was fresh and inflamed him.

But even he knew that was an excuse, that he was blaming the victim.

And she was broken, bleeding, laying their ravished.

What else was he suppose to do.

Who would take care of her if he left? Who would be the caregiver, who would protect her from the monsters?

So as he combed her beautiful hair and he reflected. He wasn’t being selfish taking her away. To care for her broken body, her shattered soul.

He was doing what was right. Because he loved her. He always loved her.

And another piece of his sanity slipped away.