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thejusticelounge2014-10-29 05:48 pm
bossymarmalade) wrote in thejusticelounge2014-10-29 05:48 pm
Entry tags:
roses are red
The woman’s scream isn’t the short burst of sound that happens when a roach walks in the room, or even being surprised. The noise begins ragged and harsh, because she is trying to speak, to codify what is happening to her, because his entrance from her living room closet that evening, as she was putting away the groceries, was nothing short of confounding. So, she screams— baby, go upstairs—but barely gets farther than that before his fist ruptures the front of her nose.
Through the blood, she can see her daughter—forget-me-not blue sundress and summer-kissed skin—run up the stairs, to the second story, tumbling and tripping over herself. She screams again.
Cass whips around at the scream, just down the block from her current post. She goes top speed because you don’t wait. You can’t possibly let yourself stall in a situation that has your heart pounding before you even know what you’re facing. She lands on the second story’s fire escape, checking the space around the window before she bursts in. She tries to follow the screams, the sounds of movement as she sweeps the top floor.
The little girl is under the bed, because she had been too young to get the cellphone or to even think of it. Her mother had said to run, and she had done just that, running up the stairs and going to the safest place she knew: mama’s bed.. Downstairs, his voice booms, loud and rattling like thunder: “..ya think I don’t KNOW what you’re doin’ out there, you fuckin’ slut?!”
Cass spies the girl hidden well beneath the bed. She holds a finger to her lips, instructing her to stay quiet. Downstairs sounds, violent. Domestic. Hoping the girl was secure she moves down the stairs, silent. She sees the man, the woman- blood pouring down her face. She strikes against the man, fist crunching against his shoulder, then his neck in an attempt to get his attention away from the woman. She could take this. Right.
Walter turns around when he feels the fist in his shoulder; it rocks him, because her punches aren’t to be taken lightly, and the one to the neck makes him release the woman he is holding. She drops, onto the counter, sobbing as he pulls away, a hand sliding over his neck. He looks over at Cass and slowly drags his tongue across his top teeth, sucking on them. Loudly. His skin is pale, eyes red-lined and his voice sounds as if he had been sucking on the tail pipe of a semi when he rasps: “..Halloween’s come a little early, eh.”
“Run.” she instructs the woman, the adrenaline alone should be able to get her out, at least for the young girl’s sake. She holds up her fists, her stance loose and ready to move with his movements, to disarm if he retaliates. “Boo.” she taunts the man, head tilting to the side.
The woman does, indeed, turn to run, but Walter’s quick, dodging Cass to the side, and he picks up one of the knives she had left drying on the rack near the sink and flips it once before throwing it at her, burying the blade in her back. The woman screams and collapses to her knees, and he points at Cass. “..ya don’t go tellin’ my wife what to do, ya understand me?” Walter levels a hard, quick punch, set for the center of Cass’ face.
Cass sucks at the taste of iron that fills her mouth from Walter’s punch, but it doesn’t slow her yet. This woman is not dying this woman and daughter are not dying she hears with every pound in her ears. She swings one connecting to his gut, the second his jaw. “Do no harm. Understand?” she hisses.
Walter the first punch to his stomach, he had been waiting for: his muscles tense, but the second comes quickly after the first and he jerks back, arm swiping the counter and bringing everything down as he trips, stumbles back. He doesn’t quite fall—he hooks a hand over the sink—and looks up at Cass, his gaze dark and unmoving from her. “..do no harm, do no harm,” he repeats, grunting as he brings himself up. “..ya tell that wretched cow to stay where she is or I’ll—”
The woman, on the ground, her hand balancing precariously near the steak knife embedded in her shoulder sobs at Cass: “PLEASE, I don’t know this man, I—”
Walter roars at her. “Shut your damned mouth, Rose!”
And ‘Rose’ on the floor, sobs again, her face streaked with tears. “My name isn’t Rose, it’s—” Her words are cut off as Walter lunges, for her, pots and pans around his feet clattering as he surges forward.
Cass charges. The snippets between the man and woman was enough to convince Cass that something worse than domestic violence is occurring here. She wraps her arms around his middle trying to pull him down before he can reach the woman.
“Run RUN!” she screams at the woman, wanting her out of his sight more than anything. She needed her safe, the girl upstairs needed her safe.
The woman gets up, struggling with the amount of blood that is coursing down her back, moving for the stairs, even as Walter turns on Cass. His first punch is to her exposed mouth, the second, for her neck, punching her in the windpipe.
“Goddamn harpy!” Another punch, to Cass’ solar plexus. “What the fuck are ya doin’ dressed up like that, ya bleeding’ wretch!?”
Cass wheezes, her grip on him loosen from his hits. She kicks back at him, as she gasps for air, her aim skewed, but she can feel it connecting somewhere. She spits at him, “Stoping you.” She tries to listen for the woman running up the stairs. Please find the girl, find your girl and run.
Walter doesn’t relent, picking up a pot from the counter and bashing it against the front of Cass’ face before running straight at her. He wraps his arms around her body, lifting her up, and slamming her down against the counter, lifting her up and repeating it process.
Behind him, the woman, not Rose, rises up the stairs, meeting her daughter at the landing. She is still bleeding, her face cracked, but she doesn’t seem to feel the wound as she gathers the girl up and runs out of the front door, as far as her feet will carry her.
Cass reels back. She tries to push back on him, tries to kick him off her send him away from the counter and her. She moans as he strikes her against the counter, feeling lightheaded, her back beginning to numb from the blows. She keeps her eyes open, and she fights back long enough to see the woman run out the front door, daughter in tow. She shrieks, striking Walter back with what little she has left in a surge.
Walter lifts back, and with the draw, brings his arm back, like pulling the string on a bow. His fist comes down like a hammer, onto Cass’ face, the power in each blow growing stronger—not diminishing—as he grows more and more enraged with the fact that his ‘wife’ has just run out the door. “MEDDLIN’ CUNT!” He shouts at Cass, reaching down and wrapping the whole of his palm over her face, as if he means to smother her.
Cass can feel her cheekbone crack by his blows, her nose already swollen, now pouring blood by his rage. She feels limp, her hands pushing weakly against his hand, but doing nothing to move him away from her. Cass won’t give up, not till she’s out cold. Which, judging by his unending swings, won’t be far off.
Walter reaches down and rips the mask off of her face, his hand curling in her hair and he roars at her. “SAY IT,” he roars at her. “Tell me it’s the last time you’ll try to get intha GODDAMN WAY, Kate!”
Cass registers the name he calls her…like Rose before her he thinks she’s someone she’s not. She blinks up at him, unfocused as she hisses, “Yes.” she needs him off, needs him to stop. And if giving him the answer he wants can do it, so be it.
Walter drags her off the counter, dropping her onto the well-kept linoleum of the kitchen floor, dragging his leg back and landing a hard, quick kick to the center of her chest. “I can’t HEAR YA, girlie!” Another kick, as if he knows this will prevent her from answering, from breathing.
Cass wheezes, curling to her side as she begins to cough. Her chest feeling like it was burning, like inhaling glass. Lightheaded, she cries to the ceiling “Yes, yes!”
Walter chuckles, a low dark sound, and lowers himself to his knees, the cartilage cracking. “..good girl, Katie. Good girl.” He rises up, and drawing his foot back once last time, kicks Cass in her stomach again, for good measure.
Cass moans softly, remaining still. Walk away, please walk away she wills, wanting to call for help, but thinking she should wait till he’s out of sight. She closes her eyes, waiting to hear his footfalls, but blacks out before she registers any movement from Walter.
Through the blood, she can see her daughter—forget-me-not blue sundress and summer-kissed skin—run up the stairs, to the second story, tumbling and tripping over herself. She screams again.
Cass whips around at the scream, just down the block from her current post. She goes top speed because you don’t wait. You can’t possibly let yourself stall in a situation that has your heart pounding before you even know what you’re facing. She lands on the second story’s fire escape, checking the space around the window before she bursts in. She tries to follow the screams, the sounds of movement as she sweeps the top floor.
The little girl is under the bed, because she had been too young to get the cellphone or to even think of it. Her mother had said to run, and she had done just that, running up the stairs and going to the safest place she knew: mama’s bed.. Downstairs, his voice booms, loud and rattling like thunder: “..ya think I don’t KNOW what you’re doin’ out there, you fuckin’ slut?!”
Cass spies the girl hidden well beneath the bed. She holds a finger to her lips, instructing her to stay quiet. Downstairs sounds, violent. Domestic. Hoping the girl was secure she moves down the stairs, silent. She sees the man, the woman- blood pouring down her face. She strikes against the man, fist crunching against his shoulder, then his neck in an attempt to get his attention away from the woman. She could take this. Right.
Walter turns around when he feels the fist in his shoulder; it rocks him, because her punches aren’t to be taken lightly, and the one to the neck makes him release the woman he is holding. She drops, onto the counter, sobbing as he pulls away, a hand sliding over his neck. He looks over at Cass and slowly drags his tongue across his top teeth, sucking on them. Loudly. His skin is pale, eyes red-lined and his voice sounds as if he had been sucking on the tail pipe of a semi when he rasps: “..Halloween’s come a little early, eh.”
“Run.” she instructs the woman, the adrenaline alone should be able to get her out, at least for the young girl’s sake. She holds up her fists, her stance loose and ready to move with his movements, to disarm if he retaliates. “Boo.” she taunts the man, head tilting to the side.
The woman does, indeed, turn to run, but Walter’s quick, dodging Cass to the side, and he picks up one of the knives she had left drying on the rack near the sink and flips it once before throwing it at her, burying the blade in her back. The woman screams and collapses to her knees, and he points at Cass. “..ya don’t go tellin’ my wife what to do, ya understand me?” Walter levels a hard, quick punch, set for the center of Cass’ face.
Cass sucks at the taste of iron that fills her mouth from Walter’s punch, but it doesn’t slow her yet. This woman is not dying this woman and daughter are not dying she hears with every pound in her ears. She swings one connecting to his gut, the second his jaw. “Do no harm. Understand?” she hisses.
Walter the first punch to his stomach, he had been waiting for: his muscles tense, but the second comes quickly after the first and he jerks back, arm swiping the counter and bringing everything down as he trips, stumbles back. He doesn’t quite fall—he hooks a hand over the sink—and looks up at Cass, his gaze dark and unmoving from her. “..do no harm, do no harm,” he repeats, grunting as he brings himself up. “..ya tell that wretched cow to stay where she is or I’ll—”
The woman, on the ground, her hand balancing precariously near the steak knife embedded in her shoulder sobs at Cass: “PLEASE, I don’t know this man, I—”
Walter roars at her. “Shut your damned mouth, Rose!”
And ‘Rose’ on the floor, sobs again, her face streaked with tears. “My name isn’t Rose, it’s—” Her words are cut off as Walter lunges, for her, pots and pans around his feet clattering as he surges forward.
Cass charges. The snippets between the man and woman was enough to convince Cass that something worse than domestic violence is occurring here. She wraps her arms around his middle trying to pull him down before he can reach the woman.
“Run RUN!” she screams at the woman, wanting her out of his sight more than anything. She needed her safe, the girl upstairs needed her safe.
The woman gets up, struggling with the amount of blood that is coursing down her back, moving for the stairs, even as Walter turns on Cass. His first punch is to her exposed mouth, the second, for her neck, punching her in the windpipe.
“Goddamn harpy!” Another punch, to Cass’ solar plexus. “What the fuck are ya doin’ dressed up like that, ya bleeding’ wretch!?”
Cass wheezes, her grip on him loosen from his hits. She kicks back at him, as she gasps for air, her aim skewed, but she can feel it connecting somewhere. She spits at him, “Stoping you.” She tries to listen for the woman running up the stairs. Please find the girl, find your girl and run.
Walter doesn’t relent, picking up a pot from the counter and bashing it against the front of Cass’ face before running straight at her. He wraps his arms around her body, lifting her up, and slamming her down against the counter, lifting her up and repeating it process.
Behind him, the woman, not Rose, rises up the stairs, meeting her daughter at the landing. She is still bleeding, her face cracked, but she doesn’t seem to feel the wound as she gathers the girl up and runs out of the front door, as far as her feet will carry her.
Cass reels back. She tries to push back on him, tries to kick him off her send him away from the counter and her. She moans as he strikes her against the counter, feeling lightheaded, her back beginning to numb from the blows. She keeps her eyes open, and she fights back long enough to see the woman run out the front door, daughter in tow. She shrieks, striking Walter back with what little she has left in a surge.
Walter lifts back, and with the draw, brings his arm back, like pulling the string on a bow. His fist comes down like a hammer, onto Cass’ face, the power in each blow growing stronger—not diminishing—as he grows more and more enraged with the fact that his ‘wife’ has just run out the door. “MEDDLIN’ CUNT!” He shouts at Cass, reaching down and wrapping the whole of his palm over her face, as if he means to smother her.
Cass can feel her cheekbone crack by his blows, her nose already swollen, now pouring blood by his rage. She feels limp, her hands pushing weakly against his hand, but doing nothing to move him away from her. Cass won’t give up, not till she’s out cold. Which, judging by his unending swings, won’t be far off.
Walter reaches down and rips the mask off of her face, his hand curling in her hair and he roars at her. “SAY IT,” he roars at her. “Tell me it’s the last time you’ll try to get intha GODDAMN WAY, Kate!”
Cass registers the name he calls her…like Rose before her he thinks she’s someone she’s not. She blinks up at him, unfocused as she hisses, “Yes.” she needs him off, needs him to stop. And if giving him the answer he wants can do it, so be it.
Walter drags her off the counter, dropping her onto the well-kept linoleum of the kitchen floor, dragging his leg back and landing a hard, quick kick to the center of her chest. “I can’t HEAR YA, girlie!” Another kick, as if he knows this will prevent her from answering, from breathing.
Cass wheezes, curling to her side as she begins to cough. Her chest feeling like it was burning, like inhaling glass. Lightheaded, she cries to the ceiling “Yes, yes!”
Walter chuckles, a low dark sound, and lowers himself to his knees, the cartilage cracking. “..good girl, Katie. Good girl.” He rises up, and drawing his foot back once last time, kicks Cass in her stomach again, for good measure.
Cass moans softly, remaining still. Walk away, please walk away she wills, wanting to call for help, but thinking she should wait till he’s out of sight. She closes her eyes, waiting to hear his footfalls, but blacks out before she registers any movement from Walter.