Epyllion

*a little something to accompany the poem I wrote early. I apologize, Kuti, for how closely it resembles yours, but I went with it anyway!! And I wish I didnt' have to have this censored but I'm just not about to pay for a free board - at the moment!*

BLOOD OF A BITCH:


Distilled anger infects every pore of my being,
festering pustules of venomous and sludge-thick distain
Nidorous intent dries up saliva - parched choked and so
hard to breathe;
Yet suffocating would be far too kind.

Stagnant with this fuming umbrage,
such memories pool, bitter black and viscous and I'm drowning
in the excrement that you spew like some Adonis downpour-
fluffed by your own reflection.

I see a pale hand that is not mine, reaching up and out for me.
Together, she and I - two victims of your pestilent crimes -
fall silently beneath a reeking surface of sharp and pungent
violence.


The hit stung; his fist connecting with the plump flesh of her lip like a bullet, quick and soundless until milliseconds after impact.

"You sonofabitch!" Casey said, spitting blood onto the floor.

"Talk to me like that again" he said, "and see what happens."

"You think you have the balls to take me down?" Before he had a chance to respond, Casey drove her knee up into his crotch. As his body slunk to the floor she hooked him hard and fast with her fist.

He was quick, however. His hand shot up, grabbing her wrist, twisting it. Immediately she fell to her knees, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Let go of me, you f*cking retard," she hissed.

Every warning bell went off in her head. Damn, why hadnt she heard them at the bar? He was handsome, tall and elegant. He had tipped his head toward her, smiled a charming smile and bought her a chocolate martini, just the way she likes it. He had sweet-talked her innocently enough, admiring her with his casual words. And shed fallen for it. Sure, she was known to go home with a stranger here and there. A girl had needs, you know. But had she even had a flicker of suspicion that this dude would turn out to be a lunatic?
No, she hadnt, other wise shed be laying in bed, petting herself until she climaxed.

"Say you're sorry," he said, fingers crushing the bones of her hand.

"F*ck you, pervert."

Daddy had had five girls, she was the only one that took to pants and cars, and so he had taught her well. She moved, graceful, planting a foot dead center of his stomach. Her wrist was freed and once he had let go she wasted no time before belting him several times in the face jabjabjab.

Casey had had her fair share of scrapples with girls and guys alike. Shed spent a year with a violent man who believed women were born to suck his dick and beat the sh*t out of after a few shots of Jim Beam. She'd always been able to hold her own.

Until now.

Despite her best efforts to put him off, he came right back at her. His fist plunged into her eye, cracking the cheekbone. Her head snapped backward, mouth clamping shut, tongue between teeth. That pain rivaled the now star-studded throb at her temple and the still ripe and swollen busted lip. More blood flooded her mouth.

Her fury built like a tidal wave and she was going to blow. In her mind, the final day of her and Jim Beam-Man played itself out like a slow moving trailer. He had pushed her to her limit and she went off like a cannon. She never would have thought that bringing a 62, 200lb man to his knees would feel so invigorating.

But this man, he was ruthless. Secretly, Jim Beam-Man was a coward, as most women beaters are. But not this one. He wasnt a simple hit a woman and f*ck her the next night kind of guy. He was a different kind of monster. A predator, strong and confident and very very raw.

Those warning bells switched off and turned into flares. She was in deep sh*t. Fight or flight, classic survival instinct. It was far too late to run, and she was doing her damnedest to fight. Play dirty, she thought. Be as ruthless as he is. Beat him at his own game.

Her hand thrust forward, grabbing his jeans in the palm of her hands. Closing her fingers around his balls, she squeezed with all her strength.

He fell instantly, an audible hiss escaping his lips as he fell to the floor. Oh, she didnt let go. She kept on squeezing, hoping to feel one or both testicle pop. That sure as hell would invigorate her.

But no, he was a powerhouse. Whatever drive fueled him, he fed off of her fighting. He looked up at her, a wicked gleam in his cloudy blue eyes. Both hands shot up, snaking around her waist and before she knew it, she was flat on her back, gasping for breath.

You think youre good, dont you? he said.

Casey knew it best to keep her mouth shut. This was for real. She had to think, and think fast and smart. She turned her head away from him, but he yanked her back by a handful of hair. Then everything went dark.

Casey woke up, her entire face pulsing with intense pain. Her left eye was swollen shut and blood dried and caked her mouth and chin. She groaned, trying to sit up. All she could manage was to roll over onto her side. Her good eye rolled in its socket, trying to study the room around her.

The bedroom.

That had been his intent before the fight started. He was trying to get her into bed. Which she had been all the willing to do, until he revealed the box of leather straps and the whip. Thats when her mind reeled and she had said something. What was it she had said? Her brain hurt, she couldnt remember.

Groaning again, she slid along the wall, heading for the door. Pulling herself up by the knob, she yanked on the door.

Locked.

But of course it was locked! There was no window in the room. How very odd. She was trapped. Her options were to try to break down the door or wait until he came and opened it. Then when he was unsuspected an attack, rush him and run away.

Right?

Isnt that what she should do? Something inside her told her, No, that wasnt good enough. She was doomed. That fact sat low in her stomach and caused bile to scorch the back of her throat.

A groan pulled her attention away from the door. Did she groan and not realize it? It came again. No, it definitely wasnt her.

There, on the bed, someone was laying there. A pale, skinny arm hung limply off the edge of the bed. She groaned again, this time trying to form words.

Casey focused on her, weighing the possibility of if her body would make it back towards the bed. She had to; she needed to see if the woman was okay.

Limping, her entire body stiff and swore, she made it to the bed. The young girl lay, naked and bleeding from at least a dozen welts all over her body. Her undoubtedly pretty face had been rendered to a mass of mottled flesh, bruised from eye to chin, welts everywhere.

Oh dear god, she whispered. What did he do to you?

Help me, please, she cried, tears running muddy red down her mutilated cheeks. Dont let him come back. Kill me before he comes back! Hysteria erupted, throwing the girl into a fit of convulsions, something akin to a scream emanating from her lips.

Shhhhh, Casey said, hush. Youre okay. Im going to help, but you have to keep quiet. You dont want him coming back.

A pile of clothes lay in a crumpled heap at the foot of the bed. Casey gingerly dressed the beaten girl. All the while, she whimpered and clung to Caseys body.

Think, think, think!

It wasnt a matter of her survival anymore. She had to get them both out. But how? There was no window, the door was locked, and her body was far too brutalized to try to force the door open. One good ram into it and shed be down for the count.

You know what you have to do.

There was only one thing to do.

Listen, she whispered, stay very quiet, dont make a sound. Im going to get us out of here. Dont speak and dont watch. Okay?

The girl nodded, the movement slow and faltering. Casey didnt think she had actually understood. She hesitated. Then the girl inhaled sharply, pulling every last sob into herself and kept quiet. She turned her head away from the door and closed her eyes.

This was it. Now or never. Do or die.

Gathering every bit of her strength, Casey hammered on the door, yelling. Pausing, she listened for what she hoped to hear. Sure enough, he made his way toward the bedroom. She could see his shadow in the crack beneath the door.

Shut up, bitch, he said. Then walked away.

NO!

Harder she banged, louder she screamed. The girl covered her ears with her hands, burying her head between her knees. Harder! Louder!

The doorknob turned.

Casey nearly forgot to move. Had he opened the door a fragment of a second early he would have nailed her with it. She pulled herself to the opposite side so that when he opened the door she could lunge.

And she did. Right as the door cracked just enough, she pushed through, hands outstretched and ready. They found their mark. Nails bit deep into his neck as she closed her hands around his throat. She pressed her legs into his knees, the sudden contact taking him by surprise and dropping him to the floor.

With a fury she would never again admit to, Casey flung his head repeated into the tiled floor. As a dark pool began to spread across the white floor, she banged harder and harder, no longer able to hear the awful crunching of his skull. Her eyes blurred with rage and tears and she could no longer see the dazed looked upon his face, nor did she see that look transform into a still and final mask.

When the last bit of her energy evaporated like droplets of water on a hot pan, she stopped. She refused to look down at him. Instead she crawled back to the bedroom, held out her hand for the young girl and led them both out into the bright sunshine.

The End.


-- Edited by Lady Poe at 12:49, 2007-09-17