Some Things Are Meant To Be

[Kidnapper 2]

He slowed his car to a stop and looked into the back seat of his car. As far as he could tell, she had remained passed out for the duration of their trip. Still, as a precaution he had bound her wrists.

Exiting the car, he pulled her out and hoisted her into his arms. He carried her inside the building. The faint squeak of rats greeted him, but he ignored the vermin. Arriving at his chosen room, he carried her inside. He laid her on the cot. Picking up a chain, he secured it around her ankle and finally the other end to the leg of the cot.

Satisfied that she wouldn’t escape, he covered her with a blanket. His fingers brushed a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, gently caring for his new charge. Reaching into his pocket, he found the cell phone that was nestled there.

He placed the electronic by her head, Derek’s number dialed in, just waiting for her fingers to hit the send button. With his task complete, he retreated from the room and locked the door. Until she woke, he had nothing to do but wait.

[aaralyn lina young]

.Aaralyn[Lina]Young It was the smell that first awoke her. Her eyes were closed tightly, as if she was trying not to witness her dreams. Those same caring blue-green eyes, and charming smile had plagued her. Even in her quest for oblivion through her old addictions Aaralyn failed. Now, fluttering her eyes in the dark, and feeling around her, she became confused. Was she still on her couch? A small sliver of fear imbedded itself in her mind as she slowly sat up, and realized that she was alone, in an unfamiliar place. No, strike that. A large sliver of fear. Suddenly, her throat closed in on itself, like a cave rupturing under enormous pressure. Her lungs wheezed air in and out of themselves hastily, the sounds only fueling her panic. Everything about her was unknown. She could hardly see anything, but she heard the squeal of rats in the background. It made gooseflesh appear on her skin. As Aaralyn brushed her hair from her features, her hands shook, and her body followed suit immediately. Slowly, ever so slowly, so that even she didn’t know when it was coming, a scream built up, and released itself. It was low at first, and it sounded pleading. She clutched her arms about her thin frame, her back muscles shaking so back it looked like she was convulsing. Then, her scream rose in pitch not a second later, the high decibel heart-pounding. It expressed her ultimate fear, her former monsters forming themselves in the dark, which surrounded her. She imagined things she hadn’t dreamed of since her shattered childhood, and finally she shredded her vocal chords by releasing every single ouch of power through her voice. The end result was a sound so humanly torturous that it could only come from one who has suffered in previous silence. It was Slim dying, and the little girl that was Aaralyn finally discovering her voice during her horrible betrayal. It spoke of her pain, anguish, a longing for justice. After several minutes of renewing her breath only to continue her screams in the dark, did she calm. She needed to escape. She needed to survive. Hurriedly, she fell from the cot she was on, onto the floor; her mind dully registered a clanking sound as she tried to find her escape. Once she was on her feet, she knew her feet were flying, but she didn’t get far. About three steps total into her flight towards a wall, she tripped. Her ankle screamed in protest, and she realized she was chained. “Fuck!” Aaralyn shouted, feeling her eyes welling with tears again. Did she have to break down so easily? Couldn’t she keep it together?! Crawling back to her makeshift bed, careful of her throbbing ankle, the red haired woman cried, clutching her sides, burying her face into her knees as she came to full realizations about her situation. She couldn’t flee. She was trapped. No one knew where she was. No one would come looking for her. She had no idea where she was. The impossible nature of her position shocked her entirely, and numbly she tried to get herself back on the cot, when her fingers brushed an object. With a shaking hand, Aaralyn picked up the thing, her mind almost instantly recognizing it. A phone. A goddamn phone! Was her kidnapper really this stupid?! Why would he leave her a PHONE?! But then it dawned on her. A number was already programmed on it’s darkened screen, and she hit a button to reveal which number it was. As the light of the phone illuminated her tear-stained face, her eyes scanned the façade of the communication device. It was Derek’s number. How could she not know that number? Her stomach dropped. She felt so nauseous that she abandoned the brightly lit thing and forced herself as far away from the main area she was in, to vomit. Her stomach heaved painfully, having nothing to discard. Minutes passed, and then she quieted. As her body stopped in forcing out it’s contents, she returned slowly to the phone. It had gone dark once more, and she pressed the same button to view her love’s cell number. Did this person, this asshole, want her to call him? Oh, only naturally. It was the only number on there, wasn’t it? Feeling anger rise in her, coursing violently through her veins, Aaralyn clumsily got up off of the floor and screamed at whomever might be listening. ”I won’t! You can kill me for all I care! I won't call him And then, she covered her face, hiding he cerulean eyes behind her hands, seeking the cot once more. Even though she had screamed her defiance, she wasn't sure how long it would last. If she had no one else to save her, would she turn to the man who's heart had been broken by her?

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[morgan fletcher]

He had stood outside the closed door, listening to the screams from within the room. Each wail brought a cringe from him. This was not him. This was not how he did things. It was wrong to make this girl suffer. How he wished she would stop her screaming. Each cry was agony to him, stabbing him with guilt. It occurred to him that the only admirable thing about politics was that it didn’t leave people looked in storage rooms, screaming with fear. But then he had spent his life screaming within the storage room that was his mind. The politics of his family had devastated his childhood. The way his parents had always measured the gain or loss of each move and expected the same of him. But tonight was not about him. It was about her. So he waited. The storage room door did not conceal her sounds from him. He heard each curse, each stumbling fall. He could only sigh at her words. His assumption had been that she would make this easy. Most people would have. Freedom was only a phone call away for her, yet she refused simply because the phone call was to Derek. It irritated him. But she would come around. How long could someone go without seeing sunlight? Without enjoying the subtlest of freedoms. She would either make the call and urge Derek down the path he desired. Or Derek would naturally choose that path. Either way would result in the girl’s freedom. Unless of course Derek just let Taylor walk. In which case, he would have to rethink his strategies. These considerations filled his time while he waited for her to calm down. He was wise enough not to walk into a room with a raging female. So he gave her some time to gather her senses first. Picking up a plastic plate of food, he located his key. He unlocked the door and opened it. Dim light from the hallway spilled into the room, although not enough to illuminate his face. He entered the room only and placed the plate of food within reach of her chained wanderings. The plate was stacked with a red apple as well as some crackers and cheese. He was cautious of his approach however, keeping his distance as much possible. Retreating back to the doorway, he watched her. “I brought you some food. You will want to eat it quickly or the rats will be attracted to it. Sadly most of them have avoided the traps.” He was silent for a few moments, choosing his next words carefully. “And you will call him if you ever wish to see the outside world again. Freedom is a delightful thing. Something I am sure you will begin to appreciate. You choose how long you stay in this dismal place by how long you delay that call.” For a fateful moment his thoughts turned to Nessa. He could not help but to imagine hearing her voice on the phone, hearing the fearful pleading of her voice. Her call for help. If that call ever came, he doubted there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to aid her. “It is not weakness to ask for his help. If you asked, I’m sure he would do what I ask, Aaralyn.”

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[aaralyn lina young]

.Aaralyn[Lina]Young Aaralyn hadn’t moved from her place, laying down covering her face, on the cot. Her tears had dried up, and she numbly was silent, lost in her thoughts. Of Derek’s face, they way he smiled. Her body, her skin, recalled his touch—always caring, tender. The freckled featured woman felt her heart sink in despair. Like a screen flashing images by, Aaralyn’s mind replayed Derek’s every caress. Her mind’s eye was reliving the moment when she woke him up, ice-cube in hand, only to have the game reversed on her, and she was interrupted by the sound of the door unlocking. Her bright blue eyes were haunting; she looked like an animal caught in a steel-toothed trap. She sat up quickly, watching the door open, and curled her legs in front of her chest. What the hell? Aaralyn scowled, her eyes trying to identify the man’s features who had opened the door. Before she could open her lips to release another cry, the man spoke. Rats? Food? So he wasn’t going to torture her? Obviously not if he was feeding her. Or, was the food poisoned? The redhead wanted to cry from all the possibilities, and her limbs felt weak and shaky from her recent drug-use. She let the silence stretch on, wondering why he was even standing there, mocking her with his freedom. Then, his next words infuriated her, feeding her desire, which was slowly burgeoning into life. Biting her tongue, and waiting for her ideal opportunity. Call Derek for her freedom? No. No! Why now? Why like this? When she had walked away from him, leaving her heart in pieces behind her? Goddamn him! Why did she have to be his weakness now? Aaralyn had wanted to prevent this. She didn’t want to be Derek’s downfall. What did this man want from Derek, anyhow? “It is not weakness to ask for his help. If you asked, I’m sure he would do what I ask, Aaralyn.” Her hands clenched on her jeans after hearing this person utter her birthname. It wasn’t that hard for someone to find that out about her, but it marked a symbol of trust and intimacy. Something this man would never gain from her. Standing up, and leaving the cot, Aaralyn walked slowly, careful of her throbbing ankle. When she reached the edge of her permitted area, she leaned forward slightly, hoping to give emphasis to her words. Her eyes were ice-cold, and she positioned herself in front of the man. ”I’m never going to hurt him again. You can’t make me call him.” And with that, she walked away, picking up the apple from the plate, casually biting into it as she returned to the cot. She was determined. Even if she had to die here, never to see the ocean again, or feel the sunlight, she would protect Derek as best as she could. ”Never.”

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[morgan fletcher]

Why were women so vindictive? He couldn’t help but marvel at her temperament when she approached him and proceeded to make her statements heatedly. It was enough to almost make him regret what he was doing. Almost. Her words brought a twitch of a smile to his lips. At least she had spirit. Perhaps that was why Derek was so attracted to her. He could admit that he had admiration for the woman. Despite her fear, she still refused him. “I saw you with him and for all the pain you cause him, I believe he still loves you. So your part in this is already decided, phone call or not. You can spare him the pain of thinking you are already dead by assuring him of your well being…for the time.” He was silent for a moment, assuring himself that his plans were indeed sound. Soon everything would be as it was meant to be. “The choice is yours. I will be close if you need anything.” With that he turned and retreated back into the hallway. The door closed behind him with a thud and then a click as the door was locked. He settled into his seat by the door, listening to the faint ticking of his wrist watch.

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[aaralyn lina young]

Aaralyn listened to every word he uttered, feeling the hatred building up in her veins, clogging the arteries of her heart. He thought he could force her hand in this situation. Her fingers subconsciously felt for the cell phone, as if guarding Derek by hiding it. She watched as he illuminated her choices, and then shut the door, taking the small bit of light she was granted by his appearance. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine the ocean. Soft rolling waves lapping against the warm sand. Salt in the humid air. But none of this could completely blot out the lack of light and hope she held in that moment. Her anger corroded her senses, blurring the line of instinct and desire. She needed to escape. Her fingers found their way down to the chain about her ankle, searching in the dark for some weakness in the metal to capitalize on. She found none. Then she climbed off the cot, following the chain to it’s original source, hoping to find a chance of freedom. But Aaralyn was met with a frustratingly sturdy chain and anchor. Her desperation grew like a weed in a well-watered garden. With a huff, she slammed her fists against the ground, hanging her head. Later, the young woman stood, not realizing she had been numbly sitting on the ground without a noise for an hour or so, and let out a enraged yell. ”Goddamn you! Why the bloody hell me?! Aaralyn yelled again, curse words flowing easily from her pale lips. She paced, her body needing physical movement to release her pent up emotions. All this while, she heatedly mumbled, shouted and spoke curses at the man who locked her in here. She had no clue where he was, and she subconsciously hoped that some stranger might hear her unladylike words and expose this awful plot. ”Fucking bastard. I can’t believe him.” With a mocking voice Aaralyn continued, “He still loves you…. Oooohhhh. Yeah right.” A scoff was evidently heard in the darkness. “Who could love a monster?” Hours passed. The red haired girl ate the food he had left, despising the unnamed stranger for being so meticulous in his trade. Eventually she slept uncomfortably on the cot, worn out from the roller coaster ride of this day. When she had awoke, she couldn’t recall dreaming, and was unaware of what she had mumbled and screamed in her sleep. She had first started with mumbling pleas. Long streams of pleading ‘no’s’ were painfully witnessed by the rats, which ventured into her trap. But as her dreams deepened and changed, her vocal chords betrayed her calm exterior she had presented earlier. She had cried out Derek’s name. She had asked for forgiveness, begged for death. Even once she whispered Shiloh and then followed it with “Why?!” Her dream state only took mere minutes, but it revealed the troubled psychological state of Aaralyn Lina Young. Of how she wished for someone to call her own, to trust in and love. It exposed her for the child she still held inside her heart. So, unknowing of what her lips had said moments before, she sighed hastily, hating the nausea which overcame her so quickly after waking. Her fingers searched for the cell phone, finding little comfort in the hard edges of the object. Should she? Dare Aaralyn ask Derek to be once more her knight in shining armor? What would this unknown man want of her past lover? He was right, after all. She missed the sunlight already, and she had no clue as to how long she had been caged in this hellhole. Aaralyn wanted more than anything to hear his voice, to have him whisper her name lovingly in the darkness of her apartment, arms wrapped securely around her. She gripped the phone tightly, hanging her head between her knees, feet flat on the floor. Her weakness revealed itself once more through her tears, and she felt the warmth of them traveling down her cheeks, paying homage to the broken life she had worshipped. Soon, she was sobbing, the absence of light allowing her imagination to play out her rape again and again, to relive each hit she had endured at the police station before Derek. She had never had someone to protect her. Was it so wrong for her to reach out and ask for one? Resting her head heavily upon her knees, she soaked her face with the saline tears that erupted so easily. She gave up. Admitted defeat. ”Fine!” She shouted angrily to the empty room. “You fucking win!” Grabbing the phone and taking a deep breath, she pressed the ‘send’ button. Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it coursing through her body. ”Derek… please pick up.” Aaralyn whispered hopefully

[morgan fletcher]

Her stream of obscenities irritated him. Vulgar language served no purpose in his world, other then to irritate him. So his respect for him began to falter as he listened to her ranting. A soft sigh escaped him, inaudible even in the silence. His fingers caressed the pressure points of his forehead, easing the tension. Hours slipped by, and his thoughts turned to Nessa. He missed her bitterly. Life was easy with her. His thoughts were disturbed by his slumber whispered words. He listened, empathizing with the love she secretly cried for. It was a strange world they existed in. A world where love had to be guarded so secretly. Finally, she conceded however. He sighed again in relief and rose. Morgan silently strode to the door and stood at its threshold. He listened for her words, waiting to ensure that the task was done.

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[morgan fletcher]

From his perch outside the door, he listen to the one sided conversation. He held back long enough to be sure that his means were completed. He wouldn’t have put it past the devious to fake the conversations, but the true emotion in her voice convinced him that it was done. Fingers unlocked the door, slipping meager light into the room. He entered and approached the cot. Roughly, his hands tore the phone from her ear, his thumb searching the keys for the cancel button. “That’s enough. I think he’s gotten the point.” Morgan’s voice carried faintly across the line before communication was severed. He looked down at the girl, feeling satisfied. “You did good.”

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[aaralyn lina young]

Aaralyn’s eyes reacted harshly to the little amount of light, which filtered into the room from the man opening the door. She had no time to react. He had come over so swiftly, and taken the only communication she had to Derek, and silenced her. ”Noo!!!” She yelled, fear and hurt obvious in her protestation to the sudden retrieval of the phone. It wasn’t lost on her how close he was to her. And suddenly the red headed woman couldn’t control her anger, her fury, and the sense of injustice. She stood perfectly still, her eyes cold as ice. It didn’t matter now. Nothing did. He was within her reach. Without warning, Aaralyn drew back her fist and plunged it towards the man’s face, walking forwards as he would stumble back. ”You goddamn bloody mess of a man!” She screamed, suddenly scrambling to land more hits on him. She got in a solid kick to his shin bone of his left leg, her hands reaching to pull him back into the circle of her wrath. But, all he had to do (and what he did) was pull back two feet to make her attempts at reaping her justice futile. Like a pit bull chained, she struggled against her bonds, ignoring the horrible throbbing of her head, heart and ankle. She pushed off the weakness that wanted to creep into her veins, and instead screamed with all her force. If that didn’t show this man how badly she wanted him dead, than nothing would. The pure, raw hatred voiced through her yell revealed Aaralyn’s passion, and frustration. Now, with him out of her reach, she tried to calm her breathing, leaning, wrestling against the metal which held her, and she spat out her next words. ”If you hurt him… I swear, I’ll rip to you pieces with my bare hands.” She tried to step forward, tried to get closer, and the chains rattled ominously. Aaralyn still felt the overwhelming emotions coursing through her. She doubted they would ever pass, and she stared at her kidnapper with cerulean eyes that were calculating and vindictive.

[morgan fletcher]

He hadn’t expected her to fight him, which was foolish on his part. So the flying fist was unexpected. He dodged, but only barely. Her knuckles caught his along his cheek, tearing skin as it stretched taunt over bone. He grunted in pain and stumbled back, losing his balance in the darkness. Another blow caught his shin, bruising skin. He resisted the urge to strike out at her in anger. Instead he scrambled back the two feet to safety. Once there, he got up, straightening back to his full height. His fists clenched, never before had he so longed to strike a woman. His anger wrestled with his moral principles but finally his hands relaxed. Morgan watched her with contempt as she strained at her leash. His fingers gingerly touched his cheek and came away bloody. Damn her. It was a good thing he had tied her up or he would likely have it much worse. At her words, he laughed bitterly. “Have no fear, your precious Derek will not be harmed. Hurting him would be quite the contrary to my end goal. See, I need him alive and well. He is useful to me. You are merely leverage in an unfortunate situation. But once his task is completed successfully, you will be reunited and you can profess your love for him once again.” The smarting pain on his cheek and leg made his words sour and cruel. He hated pain. He hated how violent she had been despite his attempts to care for her properly even in less then ideal situations. He had provided her with a comfortable place to sleep and a warm blanket. He had even brought her food and this was the thanks he received. Hell, he had even gotten her off the drugs for at least a night. Still bitter with resentment, he turned away as his phone chimed with a voicemail. He glanced at the missed call, arching an eyebrow when he saw Derek's name. Did he know. "You're on your own for a bit. Behave yourself and it will all be over soon." With that he walked away. He locked the door behind him, leaving her in darkness again. For a wishful moment he hoped the rats would find their way past the traps, but as revenge for his sore cheek. Pushing all thought aside, he listened to the message waiting for him as he walked to his car.

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[aaralyn lina young]

Still struggling against her bonds, Aaralyn sneered at his bitter words. He was only angry that she got in a few good hits while the opportunity presented itself. She heatedly watched him as he turned from her, and then departed, taking the light with him. Her body reacted to the loss of visibility violently. Her weakness began in her knees, and climbed quickly through her limbs, finally coming to rest in her chest. A familiar weariness threatened her, and she eagerly sought the cot that was provided. Drug use did have it’s major drawbacks. Twice in a 24-hour period did she seek to blot out her existence through illicit drugs. Now, she could almost guarantee that she was addicted. The withdrawal symptoms weren’t the easiest to fight. It usually took her about 12 hours to feel the effects of withdrawal, and from there on out she experienced hell. It took Aaralyn many months to defeat the psychological need of her choice of drugs, but she was forced to endure several days fighting the physical problems. But that was after months of use and chronic addiction. This time, she had indulged briefly. And yet, she was unsure of how long it’d take her to persevere through this. A sigh was heard when she laid her body on the cot, praying that she’d sleep. Hours passed, and Aaralyn knew sleep wasn’t heading her way. Instead, her body began to spasm. Her skin was sweating even though she was freezing underneath the blanket that was provided. Her body began to shake in response to her freezing temperature, and the unmistakable depression cloaked her mind, leaving her anxious and desperate. She cried out uselessly against the cramps which haunted her, and she tried to ignore every pain her body experienced. She had done this to herself. She deserved this. Aaralyn began to cry, the tears combining with the cold sweat that covered her sin like morning dew. Before meeting Derek and joining the AE, she had been utterly addicted to heroin, doing almost anything for the drug. She had learned the tricks of deceiving people to gain what she wanted. It was only when she had overdosed one night, left alone on a nightclubs couch to die, did someone notice her. She was transported immediately to a hospital, where she was treated, and forced to recognize her problem. It had been a long time in coming. She had only just turned 19. She had just moved from her boarding school and then public high school to Brisbane. She had worked as a waitress to gain money before the heroin, and had bought her first camera. Afterwards, she made some sketchy friends, and everything went downhill from there. Aaralyn could hardly remember the next few months. It was a greater part of the year that she fought her addiction, eventually coming out successful. It hadn’t been easy. And to remind herself of the struggle, to keep herself in check, the red haired girl had tattooed her fair back with wings. To let herself know she could always fly away from every situation. The drop of blood at the end of one wing symbolized the any nights she watched her skin bleed from false vein hits in attempt to shoot up. She had seen her veins collapse. Witnessed the blood ooze from her body, the ultimate mutilation. The ultimate betrayal wasn’t committed against her by some other person, but by herself. She had created Slim to protect Aaralyn. She had damaged herself greater than anyone else possibly could. And now, after a year of sobriety, she had fallen back into the pit she thought she had buried forever. Her sobs were mixed in the darkness with cries of pain and despair. She had nothing to do but wait it out, and hope that she didn’t lose her sanity in all this blackness. She prayed Derek wouldn’t find her like this. He had been to her apartment. Wouldn’t he oh-so-easily recognize the signs of a druggie? Her heart broke thinking about him taking in her living room. What expression did he wear? Was he surprised at her problem? Or did he just feel disgusted to have loved someone who couldn’t bear to be in reality? Aaralyn clawed at her skin of her arms, trying to keep them from scratching all her exposed skin. Did Derek even want her now? Now that he knew most of her problem? It wasn’t just that she was a rape victim; it was that she couldn’t control her subconscious. She couldn’t move past her trauma, couldn’t hold onto the light that she so often sought. That was why she was a creature of the night. Always in clubs, hoping the loud music might distract her from an entirely different lust. That’s why she had so frequently pursued the numbing pleasure of sex, hoping to forget her need of a white powder dissolved in a liquid. Her breath caught in her lungs as she heard the scurrying of rats. Paranoia swept over the exposed and vulnerable child, and she curled into herself, trying to block out the sound of their tiny claws. Aaralyn began to hum to herself, louder and louder. Then… impossibly, it became softer and hesitant. After several long moments passed, silence claimed her prison. Aaralyn had been granted the overwhelming gift of oblivion… for now.

[derek leisure bliss]

Bliss could feel his chest heave with exhaustion. A weight lifted that seemed undeniably large. Yet he hadn't seen Aaralyn. Though he was sure she was alright. Or as much as she could be. Derek knew Morgan wouldn't have lied about her whereabouts, nor would Morgan establish guards. No other witnesses. So reaching her seemed to be the easiest part. Derek's mind whirled with a thunderous hurricane of emotions. Mouth agape and panting as he rode toward his destination. The former beast of a man forgotten, yet tiring his soul. He wanted to believe that he had done this all for Aaralyn. But this was also a selfish endeavor. He wanted Aaralyn for himself. He had never thought of himself as the 'jealous type', but hearing a man touching her, taking her. Had set his body aflamed. There was no pity for what was done tonight. Even the foreign sadistic demeanor seemed casually familiar tonight. Earlier he had sympathized with a pair of lovers, Taylor and Rem. But for Morgan and Nessa, there was none. Red light. Green Light. Red Light. Red Light. Yellow Light. Green Light. Fucking Light! Derek's eyes widened as the light ahead of him was Red, but like all the other red lights he punched through it. Ears screaming in protest as he heard tires spin, screech, and two cars smash into each other. He braked. Slamming hard. But his body seemed unresponsive. He watched as his body go full-force into the collision before him. His bike skidding on it's side. The seering pain of his leg scraping against asphalt awoke him from this frozen state. Derek felt bone being shaved from his body. Skin peeling away from under him. But the pain was more bearable then the sight. Him and his bike slide under one the cars, a high rising truck. His head barely missing the wheels that would have decimated his skull. The image of his fractured remnants made him cry out in pain. Next was glass. A spray of deadly hail fell over Bliss as his bike slid to a stop. Knives of prismic colors pinned Derek to the street. A feral sound coming from him as he tried to rise. Adrenaline and the savage pain forcing him to his feet. Watching eyes staring at him dumbfounded as he limped to his feet. "And what the fuck are you looking at?!" he yelled, his vision dyed red. The image familiar to his head. Deja vu? "Gah!" Derek fell, hands applying pressure to his leg. His eyes widening again as he saw white beneath the mess of crimson. Bone and flesh exposed. He could hear his heart pound, roaring within his chest. He couldn't help but glare at it. Despise his weakness for pain, and try to concentrate on the task at hand. He couldn't die here. He couldn't die. He had so easily complied to death within Morgan's hands. But not to the streets of Brisbane. Not when Aaralyn was so close. Not when he had worked so hard to get this close. To get so fucking close for him to just pass out here. And he could feel his senses blurring, a dizzying nausea shaking his head blind. For what felt like an eternity before he felt a hand on him, roughly at first but then cloth. Some wrapping of some sort? Derek blinked, trying to focus. Wiping his eyes and seeing a stranger, though a qualified stranger wrap guaze around his torn leg. Derek hissed in pain, biting his tongue down. And when the man was done, he helped Derek to his feet. Bliss could only nod in response, ashamed. The man smiled, and tried to steer Derek toward a blaring ambulance truck. And Bliss's eyes only widened. "I'm Alright, let go." he growled sternly, shrugging the man off. An animalistic glare following. He was riding on instinct, adrenaline, pure and raw power. It took all of his effort to walk toward his destination, a block away. His limp carried by the weight of a supporting hand to a wall. He seemingly dragged his leg along with him, a river of blood trailing behind. Derek would gasp as he fumbled for the keys to open the door. A harsh shiver ran down his body so that he groaned inwardly, bracing himself against the building. Letting the door open without him. It would take a moment to recollect himself and continue forward. Each key that jingled colored red with each step, but he saw the door he was looking for ahead. Gasping as he placed the key into the door, bracing his hand against the frame. The door would open slowly. Light illuminating him, for the darkness within. And barely...barely could he make out a figure on a cot. "Aaralyn..." he murmured softly. His voice strained for words. Yet there was an underlying sense of paradise within his tone. "I told you, I'd come for you..." he added, his cheshire grin finding his lips. Shadows playing upon his features, but he could be seen. Unlike Morgan hidden in light. Bliss radiated with it.

[aaralyn lina young]

The darkness claimed her mind. It was all she could feel. All she knew. The feel of her skin was coated with the lack of light, the valleys left by the gooseflesh were only filled with this sinister depth of black. Her mind was empty of it’s reasonable processes, left to it’s haunting memories. She was devoid of any humanity which she could call her own. All Aaralyn understood now was the past, and reliving it in the absence of light. The depression which wrapped her body in a firm grip was accompanied by the onslaught of withdrawal symptoms at their finest. Numbed to the core, frozen and shaking, the young woman could only suffer in silence as her body trembled relentlessly. Heroin was a very spiteful lover. It would bring you the greatest pleasure you could ever dream of, leaving you hanging in utter bliss. Or it could mask your every sorrow, lying to you and making you believe it’s promises. But in the end, when you tried to leave her, she would dig in her claws and take hold in every aspect of your life. A single breath was a million years of burning flesh in hell, an hour an eternity of endless agony that roamed indiscriminating over every ounce of matter that you called your own. Heroin could bend you until you broke, wishing for the ecstatic gratification of oblivion. It would make you seek out your own death. Now, unable to move, to whimper for help, Aaralyn Lina shook uncontrollably, the spasms of her body rough and crude. Sleep had disappeared as she dreamt. Her reality turned into whatever her subconscious concocted. Her mind twisted and demented the shadows that couldn’t be seen into monsters of her past. She was a prisoner of her flesh, pain rippling through her, over her, consuming her like a fire would consume a dead tree. Hours had passed and the symptoms had only dimmed but a little, leaving the red haired vixen exhausted and weakened. She doubted that she could do anything but whimper pathetically if her kidnapper decided against her living. At the very least, he’d be putting her out of her misery. But then, as that notion flitted quickly through her head, another one replaced it. Aaralyn would try to keep her thoughts, praying they would distract her from the fire that ate at her. What of Derek? Would he miss this addicted, damaged doll that broke his heart one too many times? His eyes would flash once more through her mind, and she tried once again to catalogue them as blue or green, but there were always the intermixed colors. Together but completely separate. A small cry was uttered at the thought of him. And she couldn’t tell if she truly wanted to hurt him again, by admitting her weakness of his company. She was his downfall, and had wanted a clean break for him. So he could find someone better and more wholesome. Could she even survive without him now, though? How could Aaralyn even dream of living another day with a void in her life resembling that of Derek. Even in her drug-induced states she obsessed over him, his grin, his caress. The way he slowly smiled. The feel of his rough fingertips brushing carefully over her bruised cheeks. Soothing her injuries a best he could. A violent wave of trembling ceased her roaming thoughts, and for the next several minutes she disciplined her voice into silence. Nausea knotted her stomach, and she barely was strong enough to pull her head to the side of the cot and dry heave painfully. She wasn’t even granted the relief of natural endorphins after being sick. How ironic. God damn her and her old habits. Hadn’t she learned her lesson the first time? Hadn’t she discovered the price of her wings? Where was the independent woman who could fight this dark and demented addiction? This was why Derek deserved someone better than herself. Aaralyn would always lust and covet the way the white powder made her careless and powerful. It was deep rooted into her blood, the crystals already formed and taking hold within her heart. She was no good for anybody. Of all the things she was and had been, this one overruled them all. An addict. She wasn’t foremost a vixen. Or a kickboxer, or orphan or a dropout. She wasn’t firstly a vindictive female, or a red haired woman. She wasn’t a lover. Aaralyn was a relapsing drug addict. And Derek was the person who she now counted on to find her in this sorrowful situation and be her savior once again. He had so quickly won over her heart, and she had broken his in exchange. Her betrayal to his love, and to herself would’ve tasted bitter in her mouth if not for the blood pooling there against her spasms. Finally her voice was unleashed and a lonesome, pitiful wail emptied her lungs of air. It was then that she heard the door unlock, and her heartbeat sped up, fear growing in her mind. Was her unnamed kidnapper back? What had happened to Derek? What did the man want? Anger welled into her body, and she stiffened on the cot, her knees curled up into her chest, body facing away from the door. She refused to turn and look at him. Aaralyn knew that if she caught sight of him one more time, even amidst all her shivering and withdrawal pains, she would struggle against the metal which held her to try and kill him. For her freedom. For her Derek. So grasping the exposed and cut skin on her arm’s Aaralyn kept her eye shut tight against the light pouring in from the hallway, trying to ball up into herself further; trying her hardest to hide the symptoms that were oh so obvious. She wouldn’t show weakness if she could help it and give him the pleasure of knowing she was suffering physically as well as emotionally. But the sound of her name, ringing in familiar tones shocked her. Her shivering ceased for a moment, and she heard the voice she longed to hear, speaking of his promise. "I told you, I'd come for you..." She turned over, nearly falling to her feet from the cot not believing her eyes. The darkness couldn’t hold him like it had previously enslaved her. The light radiated from his grin, all Aaralyn could think about was meeting him, holding him, never letting him go. She uttered a low cry, a sound that betrayed her disbelief. Could this really be true? Her eyes clouded over for a mere moment, but then she was flying towards him, uncaring of her circumstances. All she wanted only stood mere feet before her. Then, like a cruel joke, she felt herself falling, her limits clearly forgotten. The red haired woman hit the ground, scrapping her palms in attempts to stop her fall. But it was useless. And the pain instantly forgotten. She opened her eyes and was greeted to the sight of the floor, and instantly she sought out Derek, eyes hungry for him like a starving man. ”Derek….” She whispered, slowly coming back up to her feet, angry at the metal chain that stopped her from caressing his face, or having him hold her within his arms.

[derek leisure bliss]

"Aaralyn!" in mere seconds he had seen her jump to her feet, nearly falling as she rushed toward him. Only to be caught by her prison again. Derek didn't notice a chain until he heard the loud clank following Aaralyn's step. He had moved to catch her, but his body was slow to respond. With his entire being intune with hers, concern reigned. As she came to her feet, he appeared in front of her. His previous limp inexistent. Everything, even his pain came second to Aaralyn Lina Young. His hands would find her shoulders, a gentle squeeze given. Steadying her. Confirming that she was real. At once the hurricane of rage was calmed. Quieted. Still. The bantering feline shushed from his musing. His eyes meeting hers, studying how light reflected from those open chasms. He stood frozen. So Still. The last time he had seen her was from the back, walking away, filled with tears. Bitter words lashing from her tongue. Yet it had been sweet to taste. And now he was before her. His armor painted in crimson. Even the throbbing pain didn't distract him from her view. Immediately arms length seemed too great of distance. A rushing force within him, pulled her into an embrace. One hand underneath the base of her neck, the other at the middle of her back. His forehead against her shoulder. Bliss's body shaking against hers. Jaw clenched. "Mi manchai...amante mio." he murmured quietly, "I missed you...so much, Aaralyn." he repeated. Thick with emotion. The moment seemed unreal. A fantasy. Even with her body so close. His against hers. Her voice all for him. The fading scent of her being. It seemed so far away, that it couldn't have been real. The same amount of 24 hours, was hell. Disaster. Everything seemed unreal. Like it never happened. Yet he was here. Here. Cloaked in the foul darkness of Aaralyn's keeper. Clinging to her body, and not wanting to let go. He could hear himself give a quieted sob. Shit. Eyes wet against her shoulder. He was a bloodied mess. And fuck, he was crying. Derek bite hard on the inside of his cheek. And instantly, the few tears that left his lids dried. **“E' stata colpa mia...” he murmured, purposely now for her not to understand. Yet he wanted her to hear it. It was my fault. All of this. And even now he blamed himself for Aaralyn's disapproval of him. He had been inadequate."I'm sorry." He had placed Aaralyn in this situation. Almost voluntarily. Capturing Taylor, befriending Morgan and having it used against him. He had been the trigger to these sequence of events. Derek had only caused misery to the ones that he shared his essence with. The Death of Morgan, brother in the coat of arms. The Death of Morgan, a love that reflected within Taylor. The kidnapping of Taylor. The kidnapping of Aaralyn. It had always been his fault. He kept bay those hounds of guilt for a long time. Yet now they nipped at his heels, tearing through the very essence of him. And unlike Aaralyn, this vision wasn't caused by the elusive lover of Heroin. It was the ever-demanding victor of insomnia. It seemed like he hadn't slept in days now. Starting from when he parted from Aaralyn. How long ago was that? Derek could feel his happiness giving way to exhaustion. Yet he wanted to be here longer. Be conscious for another hour. Another day. Just another moment with her. He felt like a child exposing this weakness to the one that had been abused. It seemed unfair for him to do this, when he should be consoling her. "Tell me that this is real..." he started, withdrawing his defected mask from her shoulder. Pieces crumbling to the floor, as his expression was a mess of emotions. And he tried to smile, and succeeded in doing so. He needed to show that he was happy. That the prime emotion was...Bliss. Derek's eyes would meet hers again, seeing for as if for the first time. The Fiery Angel

[aaralyn lina young]

It was nothing for her to stand, to reach her full height if it meant seeing Derek. Her ankle throbbed, but like his pain, she pushed it away to the furthest recesses of her mind, the only important thing now was his presence, his saving, bewildering, loving presence. She felt him squeeze her shoulders, and her breath was taken away by the look in his eyes. She stood completely dumbfounded that anyone would ever turn an expression like on her, that she was the cause of it. Then, instantly, she felt is desire to hold her, to know she was there, and he wrapped his arms about her. Her heart sung, and Aaralyn sighed as she also rested her head on his shoulder, unbelieving that this wasn’t a hallucination. She could feel his body shaking, and her confusion spread like wild fire. Wasn’t she the one who was supposed to be shaking? Where did this sudden stillness in her bones come from? Her heart was moved as he spoke, his words mixed entirely with the emotion of rescuing her. The pain she felt there brandished her soul. She would make this up to him. She would be whatever he needed, desired. For if she truly was to be his weakness, then at least he deserved her undying loyalty to his needs. No more heroin. No more searching for August, or revenge. She’d have his children, if he wanted any. She’d be whatever he needed of her. Like water, she’d conform to whatever situation she was placed into, for Derek. It was the only way she might atone for her sins against him. For breaking his heart and then making him writhe in the pain of reaccepting her. She was weak, but for him, she’d transform. Her surprise was buried beneath a mask of love, were those warm tears she felt on her shoulder? No, Aaralyn couldn’t deserve someone who would openly love her so much as to cry for her. Her hands were on his back, and she tightened the embrace between them, her breath on his neck. The feel of his body standing entwined next to hers was a miracle. All she had prayed for, wished for was now within her arms. Her life was returned; redeemed. A single hand snaked its way up to his hair, burying itself among the dark locks. This red haired woman couldn’t stand the thought of leaving him again, of removing herself from his side ever. His slow tears had stopped, and she relished the quiet between them; the unspoken bond renewing itself. Everything would be alright. Derek whispered words, foreign but sweet sounding, then: ”I’m sorry.” Sorry? For what? Showing her life was different than what she had learned? Giving her a chance at loving someone so entirely that it hurt like death to say goodbye? No, Derek. Her mind spoke firmly, I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough for you. Then, an imperceptible amount of time later (what did time matter when he was holding her?), he lifted his head from her shoulder, and she followed him. Her hands went immediately to his face, her thumbs resting on his cheeks softly. "Tell me that this is real..." A slow smile graced her features and she nodded. One hand brushed at his hair on his forehead, her stomach in knots. Was he really and truly here? Could her mind fabricate all of this to keep her sane? Was she dying? No. Here he was, the smile on his lips and his eyes more mystifying than what she recalled. She cleared her suddenly tight throat, and felt her knees begin to tremble. “This is as real as it gets, love.” Aaralyn whispered, her eyes studying his, and then quickly her lips found his own, pressing against the cool skin gently. After delicate seconds passed, she came away, and looked down, blinking several times to keep herself from spilling tears. She pressed against him close once more, daring to ask him one request before her body took away this gift of steadiness. ”Please Derek love. Release me…” The chain was still around her ankle, the only thing that kept her from walking out of the door with him, into the bright sunlight. Her throat threatened to collapse on her and she sighed against his neck, the feel of his skin all too heavenly for her to remain calm and cool.