14Hey y'all! So this is a story I wrote some time ago (well at least the first two chapters or so) but I didn't really like it so I'm reworking it. Using some of the very same elements that I initially wanted to. I warn you ahead of time, this scene is kinda violent. Anyways please let me know what you think since I don't know if I am going to continue.
I pulled back the covers and then crawled into bed, snuggling deep into mattress.
I shut off the lamp on the bedside table and closed my eyes.
As I laid completely still, a cold draft of wind invaded the room and caused me to shiver underneath my quilt. When I opened my eyes I found one of the windows in the room opened nearly a foot. The pale and thin curtains danced furiously as the wind invaded the room and the old window made a violent rattling noise that caused me to sit up on the bed.
I got up from the bed and the wooden floor felt frigid under my feet. Goose bumps rose along my bare legs and arms and I shivered violently as the cold assaulted my body. I quickly walked towards the window and placing my hands on the frame of the lower half, I attempted to slide it close. But the window appeared to be stuck. I shook it a bit and placing my hands on the top, I used my weight to bring it down. The window made an eerie sound as it finally slid shut. Once again, I climbed into bed.
When I had left the room to shower earlier tonight, I had thought the window was closed. Maybe Mrs. Gordon, the owner of the house, had entered the room, but in the weeks I had been living with her, she had never done so without notifying me. I closed my eyes and thought no more of the window. I had to be up early tomorrow for work…
The rattling of my door startled me into consciousness a few seconds before deep sleep would claim me. My eyes opened widely, taking in the sinister shadows casted in the room by the bright moonlight filtering through the window. The chair across from the bed, looked almost like a man sitting in deep thought, the mirror on the bureau reflected the bed. A woman stared back at me from the bed, she had wide eyes, her skin was pale and ghostly and she had dark hair waving about her like a savage witch from ancient times. I blinked once, twice and she too blinked. It took me a minute to realize that the face that stared back at me was my own.
There were footsteps outside my door. I held my breath and strained to hear them. The digital clock on my bedside table marked the time as 3:33AM. Perhaps it's John, Mrs. Gordon's only male tenant, making a trip to the bathroom, or maybe Mrs. Gordon herself.
Then I heard them again. The steps grew fainter as they walked away from my door, and louder when right before it. I heard the person walk across the hallway, to and fro and then stop, then back and forth again. They were heavy steps like that of a tall and large man, for the old wooden floor creaked beneath his steps. He wore boots, I think, and there was the faint sound of metal, almost like a jingle of keys, but not quite.
The steps came to stop before my door.
"John, is that you?" I asked. My voice was low, though not my intent. With wide-opened eyes, I stared at the white wooden door.
"John?" I said, attempting to make voice louder but I could not bring it above a whisper.
The knob to my door turned and the door opened very slowly. I saw a large shadow, I heard the sound of footsteps and then he stepped inside, letting the door slam in its wake.
His steps were slow and incredibly loud in my ears as he came to stop on the foot of my bed. He was a tall man, as his shadow showed me and appeared taller still as I stared up at him. He had large and heavy shoulders; his arms and legs thickly hewn and solid, obvious even through the long and dark duster he wore. His face was furthered obscured by a cowboy hat and though I could not see his face, I knew that I had never met him. Yet he seemed strangely familiar to me.
He lay on the floor, naked and on his stomach. There was a blade protruding from his back, thick rivers of blood running from it and onto the floor. The blood had pooled there….the blood had reached the cowboy boots with the shining silver spurs oh the back. He wore cowboy boots.
These strange thoughts ran through my head and as quickly as they came, they left me staring at the stranger in my room. After their demise I felt as if a whole was carved into my heart but also felt the need to run from the room, to run away from him. He would hurt me…he hates me.
"Get out of my room," my voice was still a whisper. "Get out-"
A deep rumbling sound came from the man. As his deep laughter invaded the room, the hair on my arms and on the back of my neck rose.
"Get out…or I'll scream…I'll call the cops-"
He began singing as he shed his hat and placed in on the foot of my bed. His voice low and rough, haunting against the eerie silence of the night. If I stretched out to the full length of my body, I could touch his hands as I he put down his hat.
Without the absolute shadow his hat casted over his face, I could see his features clearly under the moonlight. He had a hard face, with high cheekbones and strong jaw. His eyes were deep-set underneath his brows, which were drawn low. Eerie pale eyes stared at me with violent hatred. He had a fine and sharp nose, but it had a slight scar over the bridge as if done with a blade and his lips, though full, were drawn in a tight line.
"O bury me not on the lone prairie, where coyotes wail and the wind blows free,
And when I die don't bury me…"
As he sang a violent shiver entered my body. His hands large hands with blunt
and wide fingers came to the opening of his duster, which he then took off and placed on the bed besides his hat. Underneath his duster he was wearing a long sleeve, oatmeal-colored henley with small buttons along the center, a dark vest was worn over the it, dark trousers covered his lower body and a dark and sturdy belt was wrapped around his waist. A second belt was wrapped a bit looser over his hips, and I could see the shiny handle of a revolver in the holster.
"Beneath the western sky, on the lone prairie…" He continued singing.
"What do you want?" I asked.
He didn't say anything but continued his song. Then he came around and sat on the corner of the bed. He leaned down and reached for the dirty and broken in cowboy boots he wore. The same boots in the river of blood.
Instinctively I threw the covers from my body and ran towards the door, but a few feet before I reached it, I felt a strong and large, freezing cold hand against my skull, grabbing my hair and pulling me back. I opened my mouth to cry out but no sound would come but a hoarse whisper.
"Get off me!" I said.
He forcefully turned me towards the bed, and then I was violently shoved on it. I turned on my back and pushed myself back, as far away from him as I could.
"I don't have any money-"
"It's not money I want-" His voice had a thick accent that reminded me of cowboys in old western films.
"Then what?"
Pale colored eyes trailed over my face, to my shoulders, my torso, my whole body until they reached the tip of my toes. There was no desire in his gaze, instead his eyes told me he wanted to wrap his hands around my neck and squeeze until the life had fled from me.
"Mrs. Gordon! John!" I tried to yell, to scream but there words were no more than a hushed whisper.
He reached out and I scattered back until I felt the cold metal headboard at my back. He grabbed my foot; his hand was freezing cold against my skin, raising a new wave of goose bumps that started where he touched me and rippled through my whole body. And then he pulled me towards the edge of the bed. The friction of the mattress against my body caused my camisole to slide over my ribs, nearly to my breasts and my shorts to rise so high they barely covered my bottom. He climbed on top of me, settling between my legs. His body was incredibly cold even through his clothing and I shivered violently, almost like spasms. I could not breathe. I tried to push him off, to struggle against him amidst the violent spasms that had seized my body, but he grabbed both my wrists with one of his hands and pinned my hands above my head.
"Why are you doing this?" I managed to say.
"I'll be damned If I you don't pay for what you did to me-" His voice was low and dangerous, lined with a type of hate that I had never encountered before.
"You've got the wrong person-"
"I don't. I could know you, Delilah, in the ends of the world."
"John! Somebody!" His other hand fell upon my mouth, brutally griping my face.
"How could you do it?" He whispered and tears leaked from the corners of my eyes.
"Whore." His cold breath fell on my face. He removed his hand from my mouth and then covered it with his own. Like they rest of his body, his lips were freezing. He forced my mouth open and I felt his tongue inside my mouth. His kiss was robbing me of my breath in a strange and absolute manner. His free hand began moving over my thighs, over my stomach in a bruising grip. It stopped when it fell upon my ribcage, under my left breast. I knew he felt my heartbeat under his freezing palm.
"Delilah. Always my Delilah." He whispered as his hand slipped over my breast and then came to stop on my throat. His fingers began squeezing in earnest and if I thought my breath was scarce before, now it was absolutely gone. I struggled fiercely against his body and when my hands were finally freed from his grasp, I reached for his neck, scratching at the exposed skin of his throat and collarbone. The last thing I saw before I lost conscious was his pale blue eyes full of anger and hatred but also full of sadness.
The lyrics to the songs are from the "Red Dead Redemption" soundtrack, no copyright infringement intended….Don't forget to let me know what y'all think. Till next time! : )