Speed of Dark

An hour past midnight, she lay sprawled on the bed. Eyes closed and rested without any inquisitiveness. Dressed in a dainty polka-dotted pink blouse and a black skirt, but too consumed by unconsciousness- she looked disconnected from everything earthly. The room had been dimly lit, though decently done-up.

A couple of fingers check her breath. It’s running. The hand feels her lips, slips down the neck onto the breasts as she lies without revolting. It begins to unbutton her top slowly as the noises in the room grow from curt dialogues to unabashed excitement. Soon, the frenzy begins…

He takes off his shirt and lunges on to the sublimely conscious and attractive her. Rips off her top and her skirt in a fit of madness, trying to ‘have’ her as he licks and bites her all along. Their hearts beat wildly between the moans and cheers and heavy breaths, as he gets off her mauled body and the other prepares.

Little did she know that her woman-like dreams of being penetrated by a man, would be the darkest nightmare she would ever live. She had come on a date, believing her man. Of merging into him – his world, his thoughts. Of believing him of a natural, sensitive, devotional touch where they could lose themselves, in the stillness of the moment.

But

For him, it was just another body, which could be shared and relished to satisfy the craving of another hungry body.

The night passed by, as she lay in a pool of blood, a little aware of her surroundings. Her head throbbing with pain, still recovering of the heavy dose of Benzodiazepines in her drink. The abdomen seemed contracted and everything between her legs, hurt. An ambulance had been summoned as the doctor examined her for the initial damages.

The speed of  dark had been so great and the impact so immense, that few hours of it had wiped out all the tenderness of her life, for a long time to come…

____________________________________________________________

Inspired by Speed of Dark

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7 thoughts on “Speed of Dark

  1. Pingback: Inspiration Monday: brush with life « BeKindRewrite

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