Thread: Ghost of Demon Past (Soul &+&+ Alvis)

Without moving, Jaime watched him move across her apartment to the couch she'd mentioned, observing him carefully until he took a seat. A breath that she didn't even realize she'd been holding slowly escaped her lips, and with a slight nod, she acknowledged his request with a polite, halfhearted smile. One ice water coming right up. She replied with a cool, professional tone, as if she was serving a patron at the bar instead of hosting a guest in her home. Without waiting for any further response, she then strode quietly from the living room and into the kitchen, where the sound of cabinets opening and closing and chinking of ice against glass could be heard before the soft shuffling of feet against the carpeted living room floor. She offered him a polite, professional smile as she held out a glass of iced water for him, her other hand occupying an iced drink with a dark colored liquid, bourbon in fact. She didn't utter a single word as she made the hand-off to him, instead letting out a soft sigh as she turned around and sank slowly into the cushion of the seat next to him, leaving just enough space between their bodies to not be considered too close for comfort or invasive of his personal space. A long, slow sip of the crisp, bitter liquid filled her mouth and throat as she leaned back and got comfortable, tucking her legs up alongside her with her free arm neatly resting across her knees, and she sighed a soft hum of comfort and relaxation as she removed the glass from her lips, her gaze shifting to focus dully somewhere on the carpet. That man at the bar, she said slowly, her voice trailing off as she tried to carefully piece her words together, nibbling at the inside of her lower lip. He's a monster, a cold-hearted monster. When I was a kid, ten years ago today in fact, he killed my dad right in front of me, after he and a bunch of his groupies beat the hell out of him first. She paused, swallowing hard, chewing at the inside of her lip with a sense of uncertainty and discomfort at the memory. In truth, she was really just trying her hardest not to well up with tears and break down and cry. Five years later, five years ago, to the day, he came back for me, after having disappeared and never being able to receive justice... He raped and stabbed and cut me too many times to keep track of, but according to the doctors I was stabbed six times and the rest of the slices and cuts were all defensive wounds - I don't care to remember the tally. When he was finished he dumped me into a river and somehow I managed to wash up on the other side and drag myself a couple miles to someone's front doorstep - Mel. A shiver ran over her spine and blood stream, and she cut herself off for a long moment, swallowing hard as she pushed back the memories and tried to maintain her composure. Tears didn't show strength and survival after all, and she didn't want to show a sign of weakness to anyone, not given the night she'd had. The silence held for a long moment, and finally she rolled her shoulders to bring some life back into her body, drawing a long sip from her glass of bourbon. He's really good at hiding, to say the least. The police tracked down a couple of the men that were there when my father was killed, but they weren't the ones that killed him and when I was attacked, they hardly believed me when I said it was the same man, and for the second time he disappeared like a thief in the night. And now he's back... and I can only imagine what for.