Post by John Gone on Jul 12, 2008 18:48:25 GMT -5
Tiny, child-like sobs escape Kagrra’s lips. Her matted hair partially obscures her eyes. She sits up against a bare brick wall, the dim lights illuminating very little of the room. She goes to wipe a tear from her cheek but can’t move that arm without it hurting, her face contorts in pain, she has to use the other. John Gone walks across the room and crouches down in front of her. He smiles at her, running a hand through her hair. Kagrra recoils at his touch. Gone laughs quietly to himself at her reaction.
Miss me? His voice seems to add to Kagrra’s despair. She goes to wipe another tear, but Gone grabs her wrist. Leave it. Is… Gone cocks his head. Is Yeh Ren okay? He laughs. That’s none of your concern. You’ve got… He looks around the room. More important things to worry about. Gone releases her wrist, her arm drops to her side. He wipes his hand on his pants and pushes himself to his feet. He walks away, for a moment Kagrra is alone again. Soon thereafter, Gone is back. He tosses a small black duffel bag to the floor near Kagrra and crouches back down.
Sifting through the bag, Gone produces a pair of scissors. An almost inaudible squeak of a gasp comes from Kagrra. She winces as he runs them along the underside of her jaw. The tip runs down her neck, making silky, scraping sounds as it runs down the front of her blouse. Her eyes shut tight. Gone’s eyes trace Kagrra along with the scissors, his breathing gets heavier. Skipping from her stomach down, Gone balances the scissors between his fingertip and the top of Kagrra’s knee. He takes them back in hand and runs them up her leg, Kagrra cringing more and more as the tip of the blades slide toward her waist.
Gone opens the scissors. Hold still. Two snipping noises, the sound of the scissors cutting through fabric. Gone takes the slightly rectangular piece of white cotton and holds it up at Kagrra, as if offering it to her. She doesn’t move. He shrugs and puts it in his pocket as he sets the scissors down on the floor. Again digging through the bag, this time Gone produces a silver Zippo lighter. He flips it open and shut. The polished silver finish gives a somewhat distorted reflection of Kagrra’s face back at her. Gone flips the lighter open and lights it. The tiny flame gives a small amount of light, slightly illuminating Kagrra’s face.
I’d like to tell you something interesting I’ve found. He sets the lighter, still lit, down on the floor between Kagrra’s knees. When you get a minor burn, if your drink is too hot or you put your hand on metal outside on a hot day, it’s… He shrugs. Hot. Right away you jerk your hand away. Very slowly, the lighter is slid across the floor toward Kagrra. But, and this is the interesting part…when you get burnt badly, like from an open flame… Gone’s eyes are glued to Kagrra’s face. At first, it’s not hot at all. It’s cold. He shoves the lighter against Kagrra. She screams out as the tiny flame singes her skin and hair. Gone’s other hand holds her against the wall by the shoulder of her hurt arm.
Stop! Please! Gone smiles. He bars his forearm across the front of her shoulders, pinning her against the wall and leaning in. She can feel his breath on the side of her face. That’s not what I want to hear. The lighter snaps shut. Gone retracts his arms and stands, putting the lighter in his pocket and wiping his hand off on the side of his pants. Oh, I do intend to stop. And there is something you can do. He sits down against the wall next to her.
All you have to do… A wistful sigh lazily trails out of his mouth. Is ask me not to. Her eyes go wide, her brow knits, she turns her head. Gone doesn’t return her look, he stays looking forward. No, you understood right. I know, sounds crazy. But, heh. They all do it eventually. A match strikes against the brick wall. What I want from you is to ask…or beg, that would be better still…for me to not stop. She begins to speak. With sincerity. If you fake it- and I’ll know- then it’ll only make things worse for you. He reaches down with the match. She cries out. Ask me to not stop. Convince me you mean it. Then I’ll stop. After that… He gets up. I haven’t thought quite that far ahead.
The bag thuds with a muffled metallic sound on a nearby table. The sounds of bits of metal and wood and plastic clanging together emanate from it as Gone rifles through it. Oh, and there’s no time limit or anything. So feel free to take your time warming up to it. She mumbles something to herself. Gone’s head perks up. What’s that? Tasukete… He shakes his head. Nobody’s coming for you. He crouches down, unzipping a wallet sized nylon pouch. Alright. Let’s get to work. Kagrra is curled into a ball, staring off into space, head resting on her knees. She mutters to herself. Tasukete… tasukete… tasukete… tasukete… tasukete …
