| Subject: Chapter 268 - Part 1 (16 and above) |
Author:
KatherineG.
|
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
Date Posted: Wednesday, November 29, 11:37:31pm
In reply to:
KatherineG.
's message, "Dreams in the Dark (258>?) continued" on Monday, October 23, 07:10:30am
Extra warning: There's some bad language here. I'm rating it 16 and above.
Dreams in the Dark (268/?)
by Katherine Gilbert
Things settled down in Michael's unit after the big brawl, the combatants not entirely friendly but far less openly quarrelsome. While it was deeply unlikely that the pair would ever be close, they could work together--were no longer endangering the unit. That was all that their commanders had ever intended to ask of them.
This more benevolent outcome was encouraging--would have been for Nikita, had she been fully aware of what was happening with her beloved. As it was, he had had little time to inform her of the changes--as much as he could have in a letter, anyway. As for the actress, her life was not as encouraging--was anything but normal. Unless "normal" could be defined as constantly endangered and ever under watch.
This situation might well be the norm for the poor woman--but that truth only made her sigh, as she finally started to leave the studio, heading for her car after yet another long day. Madeline's newest attack was to threaten to tell Hedda that the actress wasn't keeping herself healthy for her baby, that she was ignoring all orders to go to the studio doctor. Meanwhile, the tutor was making it impossible for Nikita on set--spiking any drink which came near the woman. For hours at a time, she could drink nothing at all--Petrosian having been brought in, the film taken from Walter under some pretext or another, her new director often refusing to call any sort of break. There had been a few times when, under the hot lights especially, Michael's wife had nearly collapsed from dehydration. It was all nearly impossible to endure--and it did nothing to help either her or her child.
This situation was frustrating and tiring, Nikita finding it very difficult to accept. During lunch--and from time to time, when Adrian could get away from her own film--someone would bring her some water to help her along, but even these fragments of kindness were proving problematic. Carrying enough water to help her in a cup across the entire lot was troublesome, at best. But the most convenient way to get it to her--in a flask--was equally worrisome. All the poor woman needed now was to be seen tippling her way through an entire film. There were always bound to be those who would never believe her claims of innocence.
Of course, these claims *would* be pretty difficult to believe, for most of those who knew anything about this town. So many actors had gone the same way, for one reason or another--turning to the bottle to blot out whatever sorts of pain the city had brought them. Claiming that such liquid was either medicinal or harmless was nearly a stereotype by now, was certainly laughable. And, when the woman who was drinking it was pregnant to boot . . .
She had to take a deep breath to keep herself together, was so very desperate to be out of here. Just lately, on top of the various, physical deprivations of the studio, her father had also been doing his best to turn the screws--making her need for peaceful security all the greater. Two more letters had been sent by him, each more vitriolic than the last. While she had answered the first of these in the same style as his original, she had simply resorted to tearing up the second and sending its shreds back to him in an envelope. No matter what he might say, she did not feel guilty--nor did she regret any bargain she had made in order to be with her husband. The only thing she feared was her father's next move; her head was held higher at the thought. But she was determined not to let him best her for even a second now.
She held her purse to her more tightly, making her way more quickly toward her car. Fredericks stayed about 10 yards behind her, close enough to catch up, if she needed it, but not enough to crowd her--or to cause rumors of an affair. Whatever Madeline's hints about her reasons for going to Hedda, this was clearly the plan those against them would use, if they were given even half a chance.
She was determined not to allow any of this, not to even let her enemies get close. The clacking of her heels sounded louder and more determined, as she crossed beside the back alleys of the lot--the shoes increasingly unwieldy, the further along her pregnancy went, but necessary to keep up her image. She didn't look around her, focused straight ahead, trying not to remember all that had happened in this part of the studio before. One time, she had nearly been raped, had been abducted and taken to her dreadful father; the breath she took in was deep, sustaining. But no matter what the man's intentions, she would not let him harm her again.
Her determination had grown all the more fiery in the face of her enemies' plans--whatever their various attacks on her body. She was, she had no trouble remembering, the guardian of her child--the one person who could protect this part of her and her husband's future. Despite his pleas that--should the choice ever be necessary--she decide in favor of herself, she would see no other course. She and her child *would* live, would be healthy and well; her eyes burned. And they would damn well be here waiting for her lover, when he finally returned.
It was an odd mental place the woman was in now, one she couldn't have predicted before. Previously, with all the many enemies who had tried to harm her, she had nearly knuckled under, almost giving way under the pressure of their hate. But, somehow, with the addition of her father's venom, she had found her strength. Perhaps it was just the memory of her mother, her determination not to follow in any part of that abused woman's path--not to give in to Jones for an instant. Perhaps it had merely been her realization of all she had gained with Michael, of all that she wasn't at all willing to lose. Whatever it had been, she felt it now, was guided by it; she nearly smiled. And there was nothing that any of these people could do to distract her anymore.
This intent buoyed her at all times, had through every recent attack. Even as she stumbled slightly on an uneven bit of pathway--the heels always an annoyance, but one which came with the job--she soon righted herself. No restriction would get to her. She and her child would be strong, regardless.
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
| |
Feedback: 