fragment

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
A small portion of the life of Tom, monster, lover, hero. Whichever you feel is appropriate.

Submitted: May 22, 2008

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Submitted: May 22, 2008

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She had curled up in the corner of the room, her back against the bed frame, worry creasing her soft forehead. The heavy oak door swung open, brutally smacking against the wall and leaving a crack in its wake. She jumped, her lip quivered, her tear burned eyes glanced up at Tom.
He strode forward, slamming the door shut behind him, the click of the lock trapping her. He threw the tape in his hand at her; she flinched as it shattered into the wall beside her. He hauled her against the wall, holding her a foot off the ground by her delicate neck, his body wrenching with heavy breathing.
His left forearm braced itself above her head, his face inches from hers, his malevolent features twisted with rage. Fresh tears broke from her eyes as she gripped Tom’s arm helplessly as he clenched his iron fingers tighter around her throat.
‘Tom.’ She croaked, her body shuddering with effort and pain.
‘No,’ he growled, shaking his head slowly. ‘You don’t talk to me.’
‘No, please,’ she cried, her voice crackling, ‘please, Tom,’ she searched for something in his eyes, she needed him to see her, hear her, but his rage had blinded him, deafened him to her pleas. ‘Just, watch, the, tape.’
‘I already watched the fucking tape.’ He smacked her against the wall again; he pushed his hand harder still against her neck.
She shook her head, trying to brace her feet against his body. He cocked his head mechanically to the side, his psychopathic glare burning into her eyes.
He glanced at the plastic shrapnel beside her before turning to the surveillance monitor, still pinning her against the wall. He glanced back to her, loosened his grip enough for her to hope for a breath before clamping his fingers shut tighter than ever, slamming her against the wall and dropping her to the ground.
She climbed shakily to her feet, supporting herself on the bed, her knuckles turning white. Both bodies wrenched for air as she stumbled forward. She fumbled with the remote in vain before he snatched it from her and pushed her away.
The image of their bathroom blurred to life on the screen, he hit rewind, the strips across the screen racing back to the events from two hours before as if eager to relive them.
***
She stood in the shower, running her fingers though her brunette hair. The corner of the door swung through the bottom half of the screen, three figures entered the room. She backed into the corner of the shower, her fingers searching for something of a weapon. The first figure strode forward, swinging the glass shower door open. He forced himself on her, she shoved him roughly back. They argued silently, her lips moved over the name ‘Tom’ before nodding and pulling the black clad figure towards her.
The second figure moved back into the frame, a camera in their hand, once it was set up, there was a nod & the events of the previous tape followed.
The man forced her against the wall, her back pushed against the metal mixer. He threatened her, his silent abuse cutting into her before slamming her against the flick mixer again, letting her slump to the ground and leaving.
***
He turned to her, his anger had not left him, but it had found a new being on which to focus. He walked slowly over to her and knelt beside her. She was shaking with fear and emotion. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to her feet. His arm around her waist, supporting her lifeless body, he turned the monitor off before sitting on the bed, his back against the oak bed head and pulling her into his lap.
He held her head to his chest; she heard his heart thudding in his ribcage.


© Copyright 2017 tomahawk. All rights reserved.

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