OK people I was listening to this really miserable song by Travis and got myself into a weird mood and decided to write a sad, darker story than I usually would. I don't know where it came from or where it's going to but I just had to write it.
Anyway, see what you think. Should I finish it? I never thought about writing a serious piece.
Yours- Flakey-Girl
Memories-Part One?
Sloan sat with her feet dangling over the edge of the peer, listening to the tide lapping against the shore and staring out into the murky darkness She shivered slightly as she watched the dark shapes that the waves formed, their crescents failing and losing momentum as they looked to finally reach the shore. Sloan grimaced, her expression pained as she thought of how much her life mirrored that of the dying waves, seemingly gaining power out at sea, only to eventually crown and lap gently against the impenetrable shoreline, only her shore line was the growing power of the Dominant Forces.
Tom stood at the start of the peer, watching the frail figure that sat at the end, she was sad again and there was nothing that he could do to make it better.
It was almost three months since he had escaped from the government compound, nearly three months since he had caused the death of his real father and brother, not to mention the others who had stood in his way.
And Sloan had watched him do it, she had seen him end the lives of the two people that he should have loved, at the very least shown compassion to, and that was the day her eyes changed, the day she began to fear him.
Her fear had torn threw him like a knife threw his heart, filling his mind and senses like a poison, she didn't understand, how could she, he didn't understand why he had reacted that way. The desire to hurt and kill mingled with a numbness that he hadn't felt since he had been under the control of Lewis.
He turned his head as if to turn away from the memory, but he couldn't, even now he could remember the fear they had felt, hear their plea's and smell the gunpowder that had filled the air as he pulled the trigger on his Glock pistol, twice.
He wanted to go to her, to put his arms around her and tell her everything was alright, but he was afraid that she would pull away from him, that she would be repelled by his touch, a killers touch.
He moved back into the shadows as he saw her get to her feet, for now he must keep his distance, if she knew that he was shadowing her every move her distrust of him would grow. No matter how she felt about him, he would never leave her side until he was sure that she was safe, till he was sure that she didn't want him anymore.
Sloan walked back to her bungalow, without noticing the dark figure that watched her every move, her mind was else where, remembering the horror of the last few months.
Her fear and devastation when Tom had been kidnaped, the way she had searched frantically for any clue to his whereabouts and her disgust when he discovered that Walter's boss was behind his kidnaping.
She had been present at the raid to release Tom, but they had arrived too late, Tom had released himself. After ten days of torture Tom had shown his guards no mercy, and as they had entered the compound they had found bodies everywhere some shot through the head, others looked as if their neck had been broken.
They had found only one man alive, dying and in obvious pain he had begged them not to hurt him, to help him.
The leader of the task force promised to help him if he told them where Tom was, at the mention of his name the man's eyes glazed over with fear. It was then that they realised that it was Tom who had done this, that he had somehow escaped and killed his captors.
The man had stuttered something about Tom's brother and father, that Tom was even more angry with them than he was at his captors.
They had heard a scream and followed the sound into a large, floodlit room, they had seen the cages, three of them, and then they had seen Tom.
Sloan tried to hold back the tears, but failed as she remembered the state he'd been in, wearing only a pair of green combat trousers his feet and torso bare he had his back to them.
His back was covered in red welts where he had been beaten with what looked like a belt, some of the sores were still bleeding, the trousers he wore were covered in blood, and before him knelt two men.
They both appeared to be in a similar condition to Tom, although they both looked older than Tom one looked much older and the family resemblance had been striking, these men were Tom's family, his brother and father.
They were on their knees, their hands tied behind their backs, and their eyes wild with pain and fear as they begged Tom for mercy.
Sloan had watched in morbid fascination as Tom said in a level and calm voice, "You do not deserve my mercy, Father, and now I will repay the favour you dealt me and my sister."
With that he had shot both men at point blank range through the head.
Sloan sobbed into her pillow, how could Tom have killed his own father and brother like that? What made it worse was that he would not talk about what had happened, or why he had done it, if would only explain, talk to her But he had shut her out, he refused to talk about his time in captivity and why his brother and father had been captive with him. If his brother and father had been prisoners, why had he killed them?
Sloan wanted to talk to Tom, to understand, but he seemed so cold and distant barely acknowledging her presence.