Special Guest!!

Heya Everyone, long story short, I don't feel so flash this week... So instead of me writing this weeks blog post we have one of my best friends and a very special guest: Kenzi!! (woo!! Yay!! Cheering!! Crowd goes wild!!)

She wrote about the emptiness of one's heart after a long term relationship dies. 

She knew what to say, but somehow the words froze on her tongue. His green eyes flickered with something, and a year ago she would have known what it was. Now, she could barely recognise the man in front of her.

He stood before her with a small smile, one that he reserved only for her, playing across his lips. The difference now, was it no longer made her heart flutter. There was no light in her mind when she saw him; there wasn't anything anymore, just boredom and an aching emptiness.

He began the routine, but they both knew it was meant only to prolong the inevitable. He reached for her but this time she shied away.

“Please don't look at me like that.” Her arms wrapped around herself in a defence that made her seem more fragile than ever before.

“I'm tired, love.” His brow raised as a paused stretched like a chasm between them.  Still, he refused to say anything and the giant clock struck away the seconds behind them.

Somewhere, somehow, along the way they had lost the flame that burned between them. Desire no longer dogged their steps, cornering them in an abandoned hall between classes. There was an almost tangible distance between them and surprisingly he mourned that.

Her auburn hair swirled in the chilled September breeze and he caught the scent of snow mixed with her own vanilla and cherry as it slipped past him. A year ago, it would have kindled something in him, but he couldn't muster the energy. He realised, with a sense of apathy, she was right, this charade was tired.

Her gold eyes watched him, watching her never letting on the emptiness inside. They had lost the spark, and she couldn't bring herself to care.

“I can't do this anymore, I can't not feel.” His pride twitched; he had cared for this girl despite everything, had devoted himself in every way and still it was not good enough, yet he couldn't deny the lack of feeling between them.

“I can't lie. Not to you, and if this continues...” She trailed off as she gestured between them. He made up his mind. He closed the distance between them in three quick strides, catching her by surprise.  One arm snaked it's way around her waist and held her firmly in place against him.

He drew everything he had ever felt for her, all the desire and love, and kissed her. Her breath hitched and on reflex, her hands tangled in his soft, brown hair drawing him closer.

The kiss bruised them both, but for one single breath-taking moment it was how it had once been, and together they poured everything that had been, and all the hopes for each other they had believed in, into that kiss. Neither wished to part first, but as he drew back there was a stark emptiness inside his heart.

Everything he was, had served to relight their flame for that moment, and now a creeping chill had begun to crawl through him. He stepped back releasing her and stood for a moment longer, drinking in the flush of her cheeks and the fluttering of her chest.

As his pride dictated, he turned and walked away without another word, the coldness seeping further and further into his heart.

“Forgive me.”

Something Real.

Heya everyone,

A nice long post today. I read a story recently, and there was one scene in it that was really relatable, so much so that it took me back in time to when I shared those same feelings, and today I wanted to try to the same.

I took the idea of being stood up for something. That horrible feeling you get when you dared have hope and it was ruined... well... that was the aim, but then the story ran away on me. So I hope you like it!

Lady Violetta Tatsuya wasn’t normally one to feel nervous, the only times she normally did was when she had to deal with her father. Everything else had been so easy compared to what she faced every time she walked down those overly white corridors towards the room her addled father permanently occupied.

Yet today her nerves fluttered in her stomach like thousands of butterflies seeking nectar. A smile tugging on her lips as her hands tugged her hair from its tight ponytail, barely noticing her nervous reaction as she poured over paperwork.

This was the first formal occasion they’d be going to together. As an actual couple rather than business partners. Where they didn’t have to hide the adoration and love they felt for each other or had held. She couldn’t quite be sure anymore.

They’d practically been avoiding each other since the news of their relationship had broken, press releasing their best-kept secret out into the big wide world. The outrage that accompanied was insane, their relationship had always been the subject of gossip, but once it had been confirmed...

It didn’t help that neither of them had each others back, Violetta had blamed him for the leak in the same breath he’d blamed her. The fight that they’d both put up to defend themselves had her household staff shrinking away in fear, priceless trinkets shattered as she’d thrown them at him, kicking him out of her house as she felt her relationship crumble. Forced to deal with the ramifications of such a big secret alone and without her partner at her side. Neither willing to back down and apologise to each other, even as the truth about where the gossip magazines had got their information from came to light. It was how they were, neither of them could swallow their pride and admit they were wrong.

Therefore it was a massive surprise when a bunch of lilac roses were delivered to her office in the early hours of the morning, a handwritten note within asking her to accompany her to the party that she had to attend that night regardless. A text message following within the hour; ‘I mean it Vi, I’ll pick you up at six.’

The nerves hadn’t stopped since. Violetta knew that this was as close to an apology as she was going to get from her other half. They’d never been very good at apologising if it was something they had done. Comfort and support they both could do, but when it came to actually apologising for a mistake, that was something they hadn’t yet encountered in their relationship... but now?

Violetta had never felt so scared before.

The nerves stuck with her, growing stronger with each passing tick of the old clock that sat in her office, reminding her once again she’d always meant to get rid of the grandfather clock, still standing in the same corner it had when her father had inhabited this office. Her attention continually flicking up to it, before dropping back down to the cases she was meant to be dedicating her attention to.

She waved off the offer of lunch, she was too nervous to eat. She hadn’t seen her lover since the fight, hadn’t spoken a word to the man she usually couldn’t go a day without seeing and while getting a bunch of flowers out of the blue wasn’t a surprise, the terror that came at the thought of seeing him again was.

They’d never fought before, not truly, and never for more than a day. Yet it had been a week, a week where she was too scared to contact him, despite the multiple attempts at typing an email or sending a text. Fingers shaking as she attempted to dial his number, only to hang up before it could ring properly. She had had no idea what to say to him then, how to fix everything, and she had even less now.

Her hands were still shaking when people arrived at her door, makeup artists and hairstylists that were escorted to one of the guest rooms. Butlers hesitating at her door with orders to force her from her work and away to get ready, but no one knew how to deal with their Lady in tears. Water droplets rolling from her eyes as her hands shook, rereading the same message from him over and over again. ‘I should have known better.’

Three years, three years together and all she got was a text message to end it. She thought he was better than that. That they had meant more to him than that. Her phone buzzed once more in her hand, a picture of him lighting up the screen as a call came through. She’d taken the photo on one of their ‘business’ trips away, he was curled in the centre of the large bed, arm stretched out to one side almost invitingly, his black hair a mess, only slightly smooth at the front where her fingers had combed through it. One eye cracked open slightly to reveal the dark brown iris beneath. It was her favourite photo because it showed a side of him only she got to see when his guard was truly down.

Her finger hovered over the answer button, wondering if she could really handle talking to him right now. It had been a week without hearing his voice, Her hesitation took too long, the call ending before she could decide whether or not to answer.  

Almost immediately answer a text popped up from him. ‘Answer your phone.’ A call barely seconds behind it, the message replaced with the exact same photo of her lover. Her hands shook, but she answered the phone lifting it to her ear.

“What?” She snapped, masking her tears with anger, she wouldn’t let him see her cry, not anymore.

“I wanted to explain myself.” His voice, velvety smooth as always, held notes of distress, and Violetta could hear yelling in the background.

“You made yourself perfectly clear. I just never imagined you would-” Violetta’s voice broke as she tried to say the next words.

“I’m not breaking up with you Vi, not now, not ever.” He knew what she was going to say, cutting her off before she could force the words to leave her throat. Still, her breath caught, he’d said the words to her before, but never with such force and determination. “The message sent before I could finish typing it, and I knew after this week that you would think the worst. I wanted to say that I should have known better than to think you’d let our secret slip. I should never have blamed you, and I definitely shouldn’t have ignored you for this long. God, I thought about you every moment of every day, but I just - I couldn’t-”

“Me neither.” Violetta sat back in her chair, releasing her hair from its ponytail so she could run her fingers through it, smoothing out the knots she herself had caused. Nothing but breathing on the other end of the line, neither could quite bring themselves to say the words that they both knew needed to be said.

“I’ll see you tonight?” He asked softly, and she could almost hear the weight slide off his shoulders as it lifted from hers. No matter what happened, they would get through it, even if they never apologised to each other with words.

“Yeah, yeah you will.” Violetta hung up the phone, putting it down and lifting her hands to wipe the tears from her eyes.

“My Lady, the help Sir hired is here to help you if you are ready.” The butler spoke softly, at ease with the title they’d all given to her partner with each passing moment he spent at her side.

“Very well.” Violetta tucked her phone into her pocket, a light smile on her lips as she headed down to the spare room.

Her smile didn’t falter as she got ready, light chattering around her. The nerves finally settling when she realised he wasn’t mad at her. That despite everything, they were going to be okay.

Her smile grew as a custom made ball gown from her favourite designer was delivered, the woman herself on hand to oversee how the gown fitted. A smile of delight as she saw how her halter neck dark violet gown hugged the woman’s curves, before flaring out slightly at her waist, red and gold beading around the bust and up the collar seeming to highlight Violetta’s auburn hair, matching golden heels winding their way around her legs, visible through the slit along her right leg.

Her smile faltered when the clock chimed six and her date wasn’t at her door, he’d always been punctual, always, if anything he prefered to be early. Her hands drifted to her phone, pressing a button to check and see if she’d missed any messages or calls.

At five minutes past, she was pacing, heels clicking loudly on the marble floor of her foyer. Fingers typing messages on her phone before deleting all of them. A butler taking the phone from her fingertips as she walked past him again, taking away her distraction.

At ten minutes past she was sitting on the stairs, legs crossed and purse abandoned at her side. Every bone in her alight with the same nerves and fear that had overtaken her that morning. He must have changed his mind, decided she wasn’t worth it unless the whole thing had just been some sort of prank-

She felt as though she’d been stood up, the flicker of hope she’d fed throughout the afternoon dying out as the minutes ticked on, sitting on the stairs inside her mansion, she’d never truly felt more alone. Her driver stepped forward, keys in hand, but the gentle shake of her head stopped him. She knew how important this engagement was, and she would be the first to accept it if she had to go alone, but right now, she just wanted to give him a few more minutes to appear.

A car door slamming pulled her from her thoughts, footsteps quick up the stairs and her front door thrown open. A sigh of relief falling from her lips when she saw him standing in the doorway. His normally impeccable black hair was slightly mussed, dark brown eyes sweeping over the foyer from beneath his glasses, a rare smile pulling at his lips and flooding into his eyes when he noticed her position on the stairs.

“You’re late.” She stated simply, standing and picking up the golden clutch bag that accompanied her dress.

“I am so sorry. I got forced to change at the last minute and-” He cut his excuse off, pushing his glasses up his nose. “You look beautiful Vi.” She smiled, walking down the stairs and reaching up to straighten his tie. He smiled, leaning down slightly to steal a gentle kiss from her lips.

“I have something for you.” His hands rested on her waist, spinning her slightly so her back faced him, she lifted her hair automatically as he let a chain fall over her neck, doing it up with the same ease he always had. A tender kiss pressed to her neck as she lifted the small necklace. It was simplistic, the infinity sign tangled in amongst the chain, and as her fingers ran over it, she could feel an engraving on the back.

“Our names, Vi I am so sorry. I should never have-” She cut him off with a kiss.

“I’m sorry too.” She whispered, fixing his hair before slipping her arm through his, “and we can make it up to each other later, but we are going to be late.” He smirked at her, kissing her temple before leading her down towards the waiting limo.

The nerves in her stomach settling for good now that his arm wrapped around her.

THE VOWEL CHALLENGE!!

Prompt: May I have this Dance?

So there is this French book... whose name escapes me, but essentially it was written without using the letter ‘e’. Which feels like it would be impossible right? Especially if you’ve studied french, it’s mind blowing. More so, this book was then translated to English (it’s called ‘Void’) and once again, it’s entirely void of the letter ‘e’. I personally haven’t read it yet, but I am very keen to.

The reason I mention this is because my challenge for this week is to write a short story, using the prompt ‘May I have this dance’ entirely without using the vowel ‘I’, ever so kindly picked by one of my friends. Also, we twisted the prompt to 'Care to Dance?' due to the letter 'I'. ((Have mercy on me now, I don’t know how I will cope)).

Challenge accepted.

Your hands ran through the elegant navy blue ballgown that wrapped around your frame. The dress was a present from the man you’d conned to take you to the huge gala. The one place you knew your target would be. You’d tracked the man all across the world, a prayer that he would stay at the gala long enough for you to conclude your quest.

You pulled on the gold heels that you had purchased yesterday, as well as some makeup so that you wouldn’t stand out amongst the crowd of overdressed stars that would no doubt attend.

“Ready sweetheart?” The man drawled, a knock on your door. You glance at the clock, you would both be early, perfect. That should allow you a decent chance to properly survey both the crowd and the area, the exact place had been a well-guarded secret, that had left you no chance to study the place’s plans. You wouldn’t be able to operate to the full extent of your prowess. Nevertheless, you knew that, by the end of the day, your target would be exactly where you wanted them.

Your hands shook as you approached the tower where the ball was to be held. Armed guards checked everyone that approached, cameras and reporters stood along a red carpet, prepared to catch anyone and everyone they could. You made a note to evade all of them, the last problem you wanted was your face all over the papers. You were supposed to be dead after all. There would be enough trouble to make your way through the extra guards. You had come prepared, though, your hand a gentle pressure on the arm of your date, hopefully, they would overlook you and go after someone far more famous.

Your hands pulled the fake passport from your clutch as you neared the glass doors, where metal detectors meant there was no chance that a weapon could get through to the party area. Your date had the summons, and he was well known enough that he wouldn’t get asked for proof of who he was.

Your eyes found your target the second your feet started to tap on the marble floors, he was on a balcony; grey eyes scanned everyone who entered, thankfully he overlooked you as though you were another nobody who was dragged along. He would make you the second he saw you, you knew that much to be true. He, as well as the rest of the world, thought you were dead, and you weren’t ready for anyone to know any better, not yet at least.

Your date lead you through the crowds, a glass pressed to your palm, but your eyes were more focused on your target and the grey eyes that stubbornly seemed to follow you. You felt the presence at your back as you abandoned your date, a strong chest pressed to your back as you were forced out onto a balcony. Your target blocked every means of escape, strong arms wrapped around you.

“We thought you were dead.” Your partner’s words caught as he fought away tears, a hand on your cheek, you moved closer to the man, your head on a muscular chest. “Everyone thought you were dead.” You felt when he turned to look at the rest of your team, all spread out across the gala.

“Care to dance?” You knew you should say sorry, but you weren’t ready to yet. All you wanted was to dance, held by the arms of the man who loved you. The rest could be spoken another day, he would want answers, and you would have to reveal them all, but not for now. That could be dealt to another day. (when the author can use the letter I).

That was a lot harder than I thought!! The biggest issue were the words: ‘with’ ‘into’ and ‘him’ everything else we found an easy work around. Huge thanks to my friends for helping me, and listening to me complain. To everyone else, it’s your turn :P

Three Short Drabbles

Heya Everyone, so today I bugged one of my friends for a prompt: “I'm surprised you haven't killed him yet." "I keep trying, but nobody lets me get very far.” and two names: Sarah and Linda. Lets see how this goes:

Drabble One:

“I’m surprised you haven’t killed him yet.” Sarah’s voice was filled with laughter as she teased you. Your eyes rolling as you focused back on the screen in front of you, adjusting the headset before grasping the controller firmly once more.

“I keep trying, but nobody lets me get very far.” You growled back, as your character loaded back into the game and you were in control once more. Sarah’s character bouncing away in front of you as you made your way back to the objective, and your target.

“Sniper on the roof opposite,” Sarah warned as her character's body hit the ground in front of you.

“Snipers not my problem, it’s that damn turret up the hill that keeps getting me.” You eyed up the sniper nevertheless, just because your character had a shield to keep the sniper at bay didn’t mean the rest of your team did, and you needed the backup if you were to have any chance and taking down the objective.

A shield held high as you manoeuvre your character up the building to take down the sniper, freeing your team as you all approached the target - this time. You would kill him.

Drabble Two:

“Linda.” The whine of your name had you turning to look at your partner.

“Yes?” You raised an eyebrow when you realised she was sprawled out on the couch, watching videos on her phone with a bowl of food balanced on her chest.

“I’m surprised you haven’t killed him yet. I’m bored, get this over with.”

“I keep trying, but nobody lets me get very far. His bodyguards keep pulling the blinds, or blocking my shot.” You grumbled, looking back down the scope. You would get him before nightfall, mark the mission as a success, and return home.

Drabble Three:

She sighs, twisting the glass of red wine between her fingers as she looks over at her best friend. She had demanded a much-needed girls night after a horrible week at work where she had to deal with the company's best client. The same man who also did his best to be a demanding pain in her arse.

“Sarah, come on-” Linda danced her way over, a glass of vodka in her head and male eyes following her every move. Sarah sighed again, lifting her red wine to her lips.

“Is this about that douche-y client?” Linda’s words slurred slightly, leaning against the table as she regarded her best friend. “I’m surprised you haven’t killed him yet.” She laughed, taking another sip and leaning forward.

“I keep trying, but nobody lets me get very far.” Linda laughed, grabbing her wrist and pulling her from her perch.

“Well then let's drink and forget about it.”

Heya everyone, so I am super sorry about yesterday, and now short these are. I had planned to do a few more but I’m honestly just not up to it. Hope you’re all doing good, and hopefully, next week will be better. ((Especially because I’m failing NaNoWriMo for the first year ever and I’m not happy about it)). If you want to keep up with delays, progress, or just to talk check me out on twitter: @Rose_Demica.

The Truth About Me

Nearly nine weeks ago I left work early after feeling like I was going to faint. I got my Mom to come pick me up, and I went to bed. I thought it was the same illness going around work, that I would bounce back after a day better than ever, just like I always do.

Nearly nine weeks ago, my life changed. I now have what is known as an ‘invisible disease’. When you look at me I look exactly the same as I always have, but I’m not. Nine weeks ago I was working and studying full time. I managed to keep my social life going as I worked my butt off to achieve my dream. Today, I consider it a good day if I can make it out of bed without wanting to fall back into it and go back to sleep.

I’ve gone from that girl who gets out of bed when her alarm goes off with a fully packed schedule for the day, practically bouncing with excitement and energy with a smile on my face; to a girl I never would have imagined myself being. Pyjamas on as I face another day laying on my bed, surrounded by the quietness of t.v. shows with volumes that barely whisper for fear of being too loud. The person who turns down social gatherings because I don’t want to admit that I’m just not strong enough anymore.

I’ve been diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS) or, as it’s also called, Myalgic Encephalopathy (ME). I’m looking at a minimum of two to three years before I might be better, the current statistics say there is a 7%-10% chance of full recovery. It’s something my grandmother has lived with since my father was a young child. A vast majority of people who suffer from CFS/ME later become diagnosed with depression. The odds are not in my favour.

No amount of research has been able to help, for something that so many people suffer from there is scarily little research. They don’t know what causes it or have much of an idea as to how to cure it. Everything seems to be a guess, an assumption, added to a checklist of things I never realised I met. Symptoms that pile on top of each other, each more upsetting than the last.

Things like light and sound sensitivity, muscle pain, exhaustion, dizziness and memory problems, just to name a few.

I’m still trying to come to terms with this myself, what it means for me and the plans I’d started to make for next year. How to deal with going from two full-time commitments to considering it a good day if I can manage to make myself a hot drink. My life has changed, and I don’t know how to deal with that... let alone tell people I know about it, because what am I supposed to tell them? Tell you?

That going for a walk to one end of my property and back is guaranteed to land me in bed for the next day, unable to find the strength to leave. That I can’t go out because I can’t concentrate well enough to drive safely. That yes I care, but, on a bad day, please don’t talk to me because the sound of your voice is too loud and it hurts. That I can’t look at my phone because the brightness is too much, let alone trying to remember what I was going to say. Yes, I have thought about messaging you time, and time again, but the thought slips through my fingers as quickly as melted butter on a hot summer's day. Abandoning me before I can act on the thought or even lift my phone to find your name in my contacts.

I forgot the colour red the other night, a colour that’s been ingrained in my brain since I could talk, reinforced by years at school, one of the three base colours. I was staring at it, but heavens forbid I could tell you what it was. I was about to say a word and it fell from the tip of my tongue into a void never to be heard again. I struggle with the simple task of remembering what I stood up to do, losing things the second I put them down.

I woke up this morning swearing that it was Monday, no matter how many times I was told it wasn’t. Confused when my father told me it was Tuesday, struggling to remember that I had to do a blog post today.

The main reason I decided to write this post, was real to say that I’m sorry. The quality of my blog is decreasing, the length of my writing rapidly shrinking, the motivation to do this null and void. My health has taken a nose dive and with it everything I care about.

I’m not going to stop updating, though, it just might mean that things get hectic, that posts might be late, or a mere 500 words shoved into a document deemed good enough by my exhausted brain. I might update on the wrong day, because Monday is Saturday, and Tuesday is Monday, and my brain just can’t seem to get it right.

I remember things to forget them two seconds later, start a conversation to forget what I was saying midway through, type a sentence to stop and stare, trying to figure out if it makes sense. Pause mid-paragraph to re-read and try figure out where I was going with this entire thing. (I have no idea, in case it isn’t obvious).

The truth of the matter is, I am sick, my life has changed, things have to be different for me because my health won’t allow anything else, and it’s time for me to start accepting that. Even if the first step is a blog post I can share with people so I don’t have to try to explain this time and time again.

Hello Desi (Space Pirates Chapter 2)

(Before writing the story) For this week I was ‘given’ (read; bugged someone until they gave me one) a prompt. ‘The man who is going to kill me is cooking me dinner first’. I decided to use this with Carina, and our Space pirates.  I dunno if this is going to end up as a chapter in the story, or just a little one shot to give me an insight into the mind of Carina, but it will be worthwhile no matter what.

(After)... well that didn’t turn out as planned... got a little carried away and accidentally wrote the first draft of Chapter Two instead.... Sorry?

Also for those that read the Character Creation for Carina, I think I might end up changing that a little bit too... not too sure, let’s just see where this shooting star takes us shall we?

Carina’s head felt fuzzy, lifting it up from where it slumped against her own chest. She knew she wasn’t on her own ship, even through the fog that clouded her mind she could hear the difference. Metal that creaked, the loud cry of engines didn’t hum softly through the walls. Rough voices and heavy footsteps over grated corridors.

Mother had warned her what to do if ever she was taken hostage, drilled protocols into her until she was certain Carina could do them in her sleep. But this, this was different. She wasn’t in this situation because of who her parents were and the work they did. No, she had put them in this situation, it had been her fault that their ship was attacked. They knew her name.

Carina had begged ever since the mission had crossed their radar to avoid it, let someone else run errands to a planet she never meant to see again. She’d always known running from him wasn’t a smart idea. He’d owned her since he found her on one of his ships, forcing her to work for him. She’d hoped he would have forgotten her, the stowaway he turned into a beggar girl on the streets, earning money for him to pay off the debt she owed. Another cog in his empire of servants.

“Thought you could just escape Desi, did you?” Carina flinched when she heard his name, biting back the moan that accompanied the jolting of her head. “Foolish child, you never should have come back here.” A calloused hand gripped her chin, lifting her head and forcing her to look at a leathery face full of crooked teeth and gold flecks.

“I have no idea who you’re talking about.” Carina lied, his fingers dug into her jaw bone as she tried to wrench her jaw from his grasp. “My name is Carina, my mother is a commander of the Alliance, you should return me to them while you have a chance.” She tested the bonds that held her wrists behind her back, trying to figure out how easily the ropes would break.

The man before her laughed, releasing her chin and taking a step back. A hand motion to the men behind her had her lifted off her feet, manhandled up the corridors towards the ship's bridge. Every crew member they passed stopping to gawk at her and the colourful markings that danced up her bare arms. The same thing that singled her out no matter where she travelled to.

“The Alliance has nothing against the power of my armada.” The gold-toothed man grinned, waving his arm towards the huge windows and the hundreds of ships that lay beyond. From what Carina could see they were in worse state than the ship she was on was. Some relying on the slipstream of others to stay on course, drifting through the sky on the galaxies faint tide.

“And yet you still bow to a Master,” Carina smirked, knowing the jibe would get under the captain's skin. His ‘armada’,  although impressive in number, was barely anything compared to what the Alliance had. The Alliance had just completed a complete refurbishment of their fleet, her family's ship was one of the few remaining of the outdated style, and it was on its last mission before it was to join the rest in retirement. All that truly meant, was the advantage the armada had clawed in numbers was lost, the Alliance had double the amount of ships it usually would have had.

The captain's anger had his hand wrapping around her throat at the insult, lifting her up off the grated floors. Carina held onto her smirk, suppressing the urge to gasp for the air her lungs begged for, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction he sought.

“Captain!” The crew rushed forward, tugging on his arms until he dropped her, taking as step back as Carina landed in a crouch and looked out the windows once more. She prayed to gods she never believed in for a glimpse of her parent's ship, hoping they were safe after the attack.

“Looking for your pretend parents, Rat?” The Captain spat, his hand catching her under her arm and hauling her to her feet. He barked orders for the ship to be spun one-eighty degrees, pointing at a smouldering wreck the second it came into view. “Because you’ll never see them again.”

This time Carina couldn’t stop her cry of pain, tears streaming down her face as she collapsed. She’d recognise her ship anywhere, the place that had become her home when she never thought she’d get another chance. Visions of her parents danced in her mind, memories that she tried to force away.

“Fire on them again.” His grip was tight around her arm, hand on her chin, forcing her to watch the smoking wreckage.

“Captain?” Hesitance, a shake in the crew members voice as he questioned the orders.

“I said fire on them again!” The hand tightened around her, a glare focused behind them. Carina stayed silent, listening to the click of fingers against a screen, the whir of the lasers starting up. She bit her lip as a beam of light flashed across the windows, keeping her eyes locked on the ship she’d been taken from so violently.

“You happy now? Proven that you're the boss rather than Desi’s little servant?” Carina spat the second he released her chin, She expected the backhand that accompanied her words, thrown back and crumbling. Physical abuse she could take, she’d faced it all before, anything to get her mind off what she’d just seen. Her parent's punishment for daring to care for her.

Carina spat the blood that had been filling her mouth onto the floor, watching it drip through the floor. Hands attempting to lift her back up despite still being tied behind her back.

“Captain! Desi said-” One of the crew tried to calm the captain down as he stomped towards her. Carina smiled, he clearly didn’t know who she had been to Desi. Death at his hands would spare her ever having to face him again.

“I don’t care, I’ll teach this little-” The Captain's hands were once more around her neck, brushing off the attempts to stop him.

“Captain.” His voice cut through the air like a hot knife would butter. Everything seemed to stop all at once, the crew keeping quiet and huddling back as though it would make him just ignore them. Carina was dropped instantly, the captain turning to face the man.

“I can explain-” A low growl cut him off, causing the Captain to flinch back, head bowed and hands tucked behind his back as he rocked nervously.

“Your orders were clear, Captain.” She’d never been able to explain the effect his voice could have on those who he meet. Not to her father as he shook her awake after another nightmare filled with just his voice. Not to the therapists that pretended to understand what she’d been through.

“Sir-” He tried to explain again, Carina smirked, hiding it behind her hair, the longer she stayed down the worse things would be for the man who ordered the death of her parents.

“You alright, Carina?” Deceptively soft, full of concern as her new name rolled off of his tongue, as he tainted her new life with three syllables.

“Never been better.” She spat, lifting her head as blood rolled down her chin. He chuckled, knowing her far better than she would have ever liked.

“I’ll be there soon, and Captain, keep your hands to yourself.”