| Subject: .:.YEAH!.:. |
Author:
Zeth
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Date Posted: 08:48:09 02/16/05 Wed
In reply to:
Briallan
's message, "dry your eyes and silently remember fear" on 19:25:07 02/15/05 Tue
.:. Just as Max’s eye fell on him, his eyes darted down to the floor. Yeah, he’d been watching. He’d been trying craftily to get inside her mind even if it was only for a moment. He wanted her attention, needed it almost. He wanted to know what she was thinking of him. Badly, he supposed. But how deep was the damaged to their relationship? He let out a sighed breath as he looked back at her to find her uninterested in his stance in the far end of the room. So occupied by Max’s thoughts he didn’t sense the fearful ones that radiated from the bathroom where Briallan lay beneath the steaming water, now dyed hues of pinks. He let out a chuckle, mocking himself for his own stupidity. And then, in the moment after the laughter freed from his lungs- his whole face distorted in confusion. Within moments his feet where hauling him back down the long hall towards his bathroom. He’d heard the questions that darted around in Briallan’s brain and the thought of deserving the pain that was slicing through her shoulder. She wasn’t. She couldn’t be. No, not again, right? He didn’t waste time wondering, he plowed down the hall past the spread less bed and through the white door into the bathroom. Horror met his eyes with a cry that escape involuntarily. “Briallan!” He was across the tiles in seconds, slipping slightly on the water puddle around the feet of the tub. His arms caught the lip of the tub as he tumbled; half knelt with grace, beside her. Now…to pry it out of her hands. “Give it to me! GIVE IT TO ME, DAMNIT! Bri! BRI” his hands clasped around her wrists, his shouts echoing down the hall and to the party in the living room. It was easy to hear the fear in his voice; he wasn’t even trying to hide it. It was the first time he’d ever heard it in his own voice and it scared him even more than he already was. “Bri, Bri…please….PLEASE…Bri…” sobs escaping through tearless cries; he pulled her hands away from her blooded, spoiled flesh. “STOP. Damn you Bri. Damnit” His hands were clutching her arms so brutally it was sure bruises would soon whelp upon her supple flesh. But still, he had no free hands to remove the razor. How stupid was he? Leaving her with them? Damn it. Damn him. Damn it all. He was tempted to grab the blades himself and slice again…he’d done it before. How else had he gotten this far in life? But getting them from her would prove nearly impossible alone….and would anyone else even enter the horror-stricken room? Did anyone else even want to save her? Better hope so, Rooful.:.
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