sandandwater: ([slicked back] looking down)
Pippa had been occupying herself with casually browsing the internet when she decided to log in and peruse her friend's list. See if there were any more silly memes to complete or if maybe Cait had replied to the last one again. She did need to either email or call the woman...

She was scrolling down the page, skimming entries and only partially paying attention until an image caused her to gasp and then freeze. He was looking out at her through the monitor and Pippa couldn't get away fast enough. She shoved her laptop off the table and onto the floor, not caring if it was damaged. She just didn't want to see that face.

That face...only what she saw wasn't a softly smiling man with dark brown eyes. No, there was a cruel, twisted smirk and cold, hazel eyes. All she could remember were the horrifying days that he'd had her, tortured her...the hateful and vile things he'd told her. Cruel threats and evil promises that he had mostly kept.

The computer was left on the floor, Anrai's image still on the screen, and Pippa fled to her bedroom pale and trembling, on the verge of screaming again. Hours later, after crying and even throwing up, she couldn't make herself turn the computer off or even go near it to pick it back up. It didn't matter how many times she told herself that was Anrai MacEibhir and not John Larch, it didn't matter that she knew one man was as kind and gentle as his brother and the other...well, the other was no longer capable of hurting her or anyone else.

The computer stayed where it was and Pippa refused to enter the dining room.
sandandwater: (distraught)
ooc: This was written with [ profile] badass_charger. Same warnings apply. Seriously icky ew in this one. Follows this post here.

Wednesday Night/Thursday Morning...

She was at a table. She kept trying to focus on the wood grain pattern in front of her, the one slightly darkened knot on center plank. She couldn’t, not for long, not with her vision swimming. He’d drugged her again. The side of her neck was becoming ugly and bruised from the repeated unskilled and unkind injections. Holding her head up was becoming more difficult as well. It felt so heavy and she was so tired.

He was still there. She hadn’t realized it until now. Thought he’d left her alone again. But she could hear him behind her. He was at his sound board again, at the computer. And the music that was playing—familiar but wrong.

She couldn’t stay awake any longer...

Read more... )
sandandwater: (secrets)
ooc: Takes place hours after this post and concurrently with this post here. Same warning for content applies.

Tuesday Evening, The Circe

She was tied to wooden chair, hands bound behind her back. The way he had pulled her arms over the backrest rungs of had been intentionally painful—her muscles forced into a state of constant strain. Her ankles had also been secured, rough corded rope digging into her skin and tied tight enough that her bare feet were beginning to lose circulation. And she was cold, her skin clammy.

Read more... )
sandandwater: (long night)
ooc: Takes place after this conversation and was co-written with [ profile] badass_charger and is going to be an ongoing storyline that will affect far more than just Pippa. The bulk of it will play out in this journal but may likely be referenced by some of my other muses as well as [ profile] fey_fire and his family members. WARNING: At times this story will be graphic and grisly. John Larch is a serial killer and he means business. This is not going to be a nice story, feel free to skip over these posts. All of them will be cut for content.

I've done ugly things and I have made mistakes
(Garbage – ‘Why Do You Love Me?’)

Monday night, late and she was tired. Last Call had the usual end of summer crowd as local college kids sought out one more hurrah before getting back to the grind of studying and the routine of a new semester. Pippa had been kept busy right through to closing with orders, placating customers and dealing with a minor snafu with the band. She loved the work, enjoyed the usually great music but there were times when the act booked happened to be people she didn’t care for off the stage. Small-time divas were exhausting.

It was with that thought the redhead pulled the heavy doors to the establishment closed, put the key into the lock and turned until she heard the tumblers click. Oh, finally…now to go home. Her car was parked at just a few feet from where she stood as she considered home. Her dog. A hot shower. Call Ro. Bed. What she didn’t consider was the man leaning against the hood of the Volkswagen Beetle. Pippa didn’t notice the dark haired, bright-eyed man until she reached out a hand to open the passenger side door, put her purse inside.

Read more... )


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October 2009

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