Thread: When the Chips are Down [Darkened Knight & Cosmic]

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead I lift my lids and all is born again. Lights were surprisingly soft on resting eyelids and delicate breaths. It took a lot of effort but Noemi was able to slowly taking in the swirling dizziness all around her. It came in many ways. The cold glass, the warm air from the heater, the leather seat sticking to her thighs. When she finally managed to open her eyes, it was the raindrops that she saw first, slinking down the window like one long last caress of an otherwise careless lover. Which in many ways that was the truth. She could still smell flowers. She could still feel them pressing against her skin, thorns and all. But she knew better than to trust in that promise. There were so many broken promises over the years that she didn't have the strength to try to believe in another, especially one that she wanted so badly. I think I made you up inside my head. Andrei. Did she want to believe that she saw him? Did she want to risk turning to see his face when she wasn't sure if she could survive the possibility of him not being there? And where was Willa? The sweet cherub girl she had held so many times. She could practically taste those sweet little fingers pressing up against her lips in innocent motherly adoration. Something in her stirred when she realized she could neither hear the child nor feel it. This was not right. This was not how it was supposed to be. Her baby needed her. And wasn't the good life supposed to have her anyway? If Andrei really was there, driving, smiling, then shouldn't her baby be there too? If only to nurse at her breast? The stars go waltzing out in blue and red, And arbitrary blackness gallops in Andrei. Where is Willa? A soft muffled sound. This dream, or reality for she wasn't yet sure of which was wrong. She needed her baby girl. The sweet round mass that had both her dark hair and Andrei's soft crystalline eyes. Willa was theirs. The perfect blend. The product of their love, and a true testament to their resolve for one another. She felt a subtle speed increase underneath. Fear? Anger? Laughter? Or simply a dream fading? The thoughts cascaded down and swirled themselves into her bones drawing memories with soft subconscious qualities she couldn't understand. She kept going back to the basic questions, why, who, and when? Why was this happening? Who was this man that she loved? And when did she confuse this good life for the bad one? I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. A wave of exhaustion hit her and her mind reeled to grasp at the current situation at hand. It was back to square one. Cold glass. Soft light. Smell of damp leather. She longed to reach out and feel his hand. She needed that hand. It had to be him, she had to touch him before he went away again. Could she even recall the feeling of his palm pressed against hers? Had it been so long since she felt those hands running over the small worry lines across her face before bringing her close to feel soft lips pressing against her own? Certainly they were together only moments ago...She remembered it all too well... I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane. Hands held her. Hands held her breasts. Hands dug nails into her sides--many more than ten scratches. Hands took her legs, held them apart. Hands around her throat. The cold metal of a gun behind her back. There was laughter and a distinct smell of chemicals and body odors. He held her down, a curved maniacal smile splitting his face like glass. Don't worry baby, I'll make you feel real good. She choked back tears as he stood over her, her throat filled with heavy hard weight, and she finally broke down and cried out when she felt flesh tear and bleed between her legs. After all, what was making love all about? I think I made you up inside my head. No that wasn't right. That was the bad life. That wasn't her sweet love. He would never do that. Never....then why could she only see his face? Why did she feel dirty beneath his eyes? Why was she sore in places a woman should never feel sore....? Then the realities shifted once more and the memories of her daughter, and her husband leaving her resurfaced. The cold lonely truth of what happened. He left and would never come back. This man driving her was a customer. She really should be getting back to work, when did it stop raining? God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade Exit seraphim and Satan's men I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. Willa. Sweet little baby girl. He took her away. It was coming back now so clearly. He left and threw her into this hell and ripped away everyone and everything she love. He hated her. He couldn't love her. He wouldn't have plunged her head first into this baptism of suffering if he did. He left her to rot and to fade and there was nothing more she could do. If she turned to see him he would be there. Gun in hand, cock out. Waiting. Waiting like the rest of them. The smell of flowers turned sour. Metallic. She felt the car shift, and her heart beat increased in worry. She knew this taste. It was blood. Hyper-paranoia sank into her skin as she mentally checked over her body. She was sore and she was tired. She was starting to itch and that only meant one thing she was sobering up. I fancied you'd return the way you said, But I grow old and I forget your name. Willa. Where is Willa? Louder. Less of a whisper, more of a plea. She prayed to her bones. To the flame of divinity that is inside all of life, that her child was safe. She was asleep in the back, that Andrei had come for her and that this wasn't a disaster waiting to happen. Finally summing all of her courage she managed to turn her head and witness the profile of her beloved. The profile of her most hated. He sat there with his eyes to the road, ignoring her like always. His kind demeanor rigid and callous not to mention completely full of rage. She stared at him until his eyes finally met hers for a split second. I think I made you up inside my head. Where is my baby?! A wail. Why was this reality so confusing. Where was the laughter? Where were the paintings. The hardwood floors creaking underfoot. The soft lavender-scented sheets tinged with the smell of love? Why was there dirt and streaks of dark red across his face. Why did the car smell of death instead of the robust aroma of coffee sweetened with honey and cream? Why wasn't he at least holding her hand and speaking to her in soothing tones and at least attempting to calm her fears? He just sat there, lock-jawed, heavy blood spackled hands curled over the wheel in full-blown wrath as he breathed in calm soundless breaths. Where are you Andrei? her voice boiled over in tears as her shaking got worse until she fell forward missing a rather intense bump on the head via the dash by a quick turn and nothing more. I should have loved a thunderbird instead At least when spring comes they roar back again. This was all wrong! All of it. To the last detail. What happened? Where was she really? Tears were falling, though it was more like the roof was leaking overhead. There was no place for her to cry from anymore. She let out something similar to a shriek of pain as the reality hit her square in the heart and burned her dreams like old photographs. There were no flowers. no fresh blooms for a bright beginning. It was a cold stormy night. There was blood in the air. Her lover was returning to her after leaving her in a hell that n o one deserves to be left in. And her child....Her child... She sagged, holding the dash as she cried into her hands. She remembered. They took the baby from her, she could still feel the knives stabbing into her and the blood that rushed from her broken heart. She remembered the fall down the stairs and the screams of other women who witnessed her cries. They took the baby away. She was rushed to a clean place, a bad place. They stitched her up and put her back in hell, and when she finally saw her sweet Willa...She was dead under a pile of garbage. I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. I think I made you up inside my head. Andrei??....She's gone...The baby...She's gone. Pain tore through her as realization after realization came to her. This reality might be wrong. And everything in it may be tainted. But she couldn't run from it either. This was happening. Andrei was back. Andrei came for her. And thus the last three years came forward and wrapped her up in a sickeningly tender embrace, rocking out her sorrow to the rhythmic dance of the moon overhead. And her heart shuddered in her chest, trying desperately to keep working despite all outside forces telling it to stop. She wept into her hands until her body could spare no more tears and she recoiled from Andrei's eyes when she felt them on her. Terrified of the questions and meaning they had within them. The italicized lines of poetry are not my work, but the work of Sylvia Plath for those curious here is the link to the original work . When writing this post I realized how strangely I felt the poem fit into Noemi's psyche and decided I would try something new. At the same time I recently received the new album by Florence the Machine. One of the singles No light, No light have seriously helped shaped this post as well as my current character development at this point. Listen to the awesome youreself In any case, I hope it isn't too confusing, and that it was worth the wait.