*Cut Up Angels pt 1

     Atlanta’s
heart shuddered within her chest, nearly giving out just before it
picked up again in a near-steady rhythm. Her eyes glazed over as all
the weight in her body pressed against suddenly weak knees, and she
collapsed. It was all she could do to catch herself with her hands, and
hold herself off the rain-soaked blacktop. The downpour was washing
blood into her right eye, obscuring half her vision until she had to
squeeze it shut. Here weapons lay where they’d been flung, twenty feet
or so away, too far for her tired body to scramble.
     Adrenaline was slowly leaking out of her, until she felt empty, and the wind and rain were cold.
Velisian
laughed, his voice sending shivers of fear up and down her spine until
she fear her elbows would buckle and then there would be nothing but
the taste of pavement and blood. His feet made only the faintest
splashing noise as he stalked towards her. His hair hung in thick blond
clumps around his face, clinging to his neck, and streaks of black
mascara slid down his cheeks in the rain.
    
Atlanta would have liked to laugh, knowing how appalled he’d be at
finding himself so disheveled; but she knew if she laughed, she’d
cough, and if she coughed she’d taste blood, and she wasn’t ready to
know it was that bad, not yet.
     “You’re just sitting there, Atlanta,” he cooed. “Don’t you want to play anymore?”
    
No, she thought. Of course she didn’t want to play. Velisian played for
pain, and he knew all the right ways to draw it out of her. She
couldn’t help but feel disappointed in herself. Challenging him
certainly wasn’t one of her more intelligent moments. He stopped moving
just outside her reach, but it was silly really. Atlanta couldn’t even
lift her head anymore. She could only pant and stare with one eye at
the way the water hit and jumped off his goth boots.
    
Her ribs ached where he’d kicked her, a love tap he’d said, and he’d
probably broken two or three of them. The rest of the blows he
delivered from afar, explaining as he did the way he could manipulate
the air around her until it cut, or stuck like a fist. But Atlanta
couldn’t care less anymore. He’d kill her of course, because she’d
failed him, herself, her family name.
    
“You’re not speaking anymore, my darling, is something wrong with your
voice?” He dropped gently to one knee, now just inches away, and
snatched her face up between cold pale fingers. The glee in his eyes
shivered through her. “I see; you’re hurt aren’t you?”
    
She struggled with the urge to jerk away from him. The only thing that
would accomplish was her on the ground, and more of that laughter that
made her skin crawl. No she wouldn’t give him anything. She couldn’t
pull back from the pain and fear, but she could hide it. She’d spent
all her life training her face to smile when she was miserable, and as
he gazed into her eyes almost fondly, she smiled.
    
He cocked his head to the side, like a curious puppy, if puppies had
fangs and a sadomasochism complex. “You’re leaving me, Atlanta,” he
warned. “I don’t like it when you leave me.”
    
But she knew she could, because any more of his tender care and she’d
be gone completely. Dead. The word spiked fear in her gut. She’d never
cared much for the whole dying thing, and it was disappointing that she
couldn’t be a little more accepting of it, considering how quickly it
was becoming a surety.
     Velisian’s face
contorted into a snarl. “You’re being mean!” he protested darkly. “You
fail on my mission, and now you’re leaving me.” With a frustrated grunt
he rose to his feet, and began to pace. “I can’t kill you now, Atlanta.
Not when you won’t even scream for me. I can’t kill something that
won’t scream!” He dropped, punching a dent in the cement that sent
web-like splinters stretching out three feet in every direction.
    
The air held its breath while he knelt there, frozen in place.
Atlanta’s head sagged again between her shoulder blades, which had
begun to shake with the force of holding herself aloft for so long. She
clung to her smile like a life-line, realizing that just maybe if she
could keep it, she’d live to see tomorrow. Tomorrow was good. Tomorrow
meant healing, and then getting stronger. Stronger meant she wouldn’t
die on her hands and knees at three in the morning on an untended
basketball court with weeds sprouting up through cracks in the blacktop
and rain slapping against her back in mock congratulations.
    
Then Velisian stood up, wicked smile curled on his face. But Atlanta
couldn’t see, because her head was hanging, and her shoulders were
shaking, and she was focusing on smiling and thinking, For once mom was
right. A smile can make a difference.
    
Velisian took a few steps back, and awakened his blood within her. The
connection sizzled between them, and Atlanta couldn’t resist the gasp
it sucked from her lips. Then, still grinning with mad glee, Velisian
thrust the full force of the longing down the connection.