I hate Mondays . . .
Monday is tomorrow. My sixth sense has allerted me that it will be the apocalypse.
On the other hand, I'd like you all to read part of an SVU fanfic I'm in the midst of writing.
Chapter I: Hunted
She felt her petite form crash into the glass table, the shards soaring through the air and digging into her dark, creamy brown skin. “Stop it…” she gasped, feeling the blood ooze from the tiny cuts that decorated her entire naked body. It dripped from her onto the floor, dying the beige carpet a deep crimson. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, but she knew she couldn’t cry. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.
Her jaw quivered as the shadow stepped forward, his face illuminated only by the full moon shining in the window. His wicked smirk, coupled with the long scar running from above his left eye to his neck, painted the picture of the perfect villain-someone she might have written about, had she thought of it. “How does it feel?” He sneered, “To be hunted. To be attacked. To be helpless against the power of another.”
Her eyes betrayed her fear as she forced herself upward, only to fall back down again into the pool of her own blood-her own crimson tears. She felt the rope slide around her neck. “No…!” she wheezed, feeling her body being jerked backwards onto the floor. “Please, don’t…”
She felt the rope constrict around her neck. She tried to cough, to scream, to speak-to do anything that would prove that she could still breathe. All that came out was a soft, scratchy moan. Everything around her went dark, and her entire body fell numb.
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“What happened?” Detective Stabler questioned, eyeing the broken glass that encrusted the floor as his partner carefully studied their surroundings in hopes of catching some evidence that the local authorities failed to spot.
The ME looked up, still crouching next to the disheveled, naked body of the once-prestigious writer. “I can’t be certain until I perform an autopsy, but it looks like the strangulation was what killed her.” Melinda sighed, standing up. “I know I’m not a shrink, but I’m willing to bet that whoever did this either had serious reason to hate her or was extremely disturbed.”
“That all?” he asked, looking around, lips curled in disgust. The place was a wreck, and the woman looked like she’d been through Hell. He didn’t need Huang to convince him that whoever was responsible had serious issues.
“No,” she admitted, wincing. “Look.” She moved the limp hand of the woman, revealing a message in blood traced roughly into the carpet.
“Witch,” Elliot read, furrowing his brows. “What do you think it means?” She shook her head.
“Did she have any family?” he heard his partner asked a local police officer, who was pacing the floor, looking pale and nauseous. A rookie, Elliot presumed.
“Only a daughter, age fifteen,” the man told her, closing his eyes and turning his head away from the scene. “She’s in the lobby. Our captain didn’t think it would be a good idea for her to see her mother like this.” Elliot saw tears forming at the corners of his lids. The officer wiped them away.
Did he ever cry when he was new to the force? Did he ever see a victim-or even a perp-in such a horrible state that he actually wept for them? Elliot couldn’t remember.
“Do you mind if I talk to her?” Olivia asked the young officer.
“Go ahead.” He nodded, gesturing to the door. “She’s sitting in the lobby near the front desk. Her name is Sandra Keystone.”
Elliot raised an eyebrow. “But I thought her mother’s name was Iesha Shelburne,” he pointed out, turning to the two and crossing his arms over his chest.
“Keystone was her father’s last name,” he explained, running a hand through his sandy brown hair. “He and Iesha divorced about seven years ago.”
Detective Benson nodded, turning to leave. Elliot made a mental note to look up Iesha’s ex-husband later.
“It’s a shame,” the young officer mused. “She was observing our town in order to incorporate it into one of her books. My fourteen-year-old sister was a big fan of her work.”
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Well, lemme know what you think. It's just the first two scenes, unbeta'd and unfinished, but any feedback would be appriciated.
On the other hand, I'd like you all to read part of an SVU fanfic I'm in the midst of writing.
Chapter I: Hunted
She felt her petite form crash into the glass table, the shards soaring through the air and digging into her dark, creamy brown skin. “Stop it…” she gasped, feeling the blood ooze from the tiny cuts that decorated her entire naked body. It dripped from her onto the floor, dying the beige carpet a deep crimson. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, but she knew she couldn’t cry. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.
Her jaw quivered as the shadow stepped forward, his face illuminated only by the full moon shining in the window. His wicked smirk, coupled with the long scar running from above his left eye to his neck, painted the picture of the perfect villain-someone she might have written about, had she thought of it. “How does it feel?” He sneered, “To be hunted. To be attacked. To be helpless against the power of another.”
Her eyes betrayed her fear as she forced herself upward, only to fall back down again into the pool of her own blood-her own crimson tears. She felt the rope slide around her neck. “No…!” she wheezed, feeling her body being jerked backwards onto the floor. “Please, don’t…”
She felt the rope constrict around her neck. She tried to cough, to scream, to speak-to do anything that would prove that she could still breathe. All that came out was a soft, scratchy moan. Everything around her went dark, and her entire body fell numb.
-
-
“What happened?” Detective Stabler questioned, eyeing the broken glass that encrusted the floor as his partner carefully studied their surroundings in hopes of catching some evidence that the local authorities failed to spot.
The ME looked up, still crouching next to the disheveled, naked body of the once-prestigious writer. “I can’t be certain until I perform an autopsy, but it looks like the strangulation was what killed her.” Melinda sighed, standing up. “I know I’m not a shrink, but I’m willing to bet that whoever did this either had serious reason to hate her or was extremely disturbed.”
“That all?” he asked, looking around, lips curled in disgust. The place was a wreck, and the woman looked like she’d been through Hell. He didn’t need Huang to convince him that whoever was responsible had serious issues.
“No,” she admitted, wincing. “Look.” She moved the limp hand of the woman, revealing a message in blood traced roughly into the carpet.
“Witch,” Elliot read, furrowing his brows. “What do you think it means?” She shook her head.
“Did she have any family?” he heard his partner asked a local police officer, who was pacing the floor, looking pale and nauseous. A rookie, Elliot presumed.
“Only a daughter, age fifteen,” the man told her, closing his eyes and turning his head away from the scene. “She’s in the lobby. Our captain didn’t think it would be a good idea for her to see her mother like this.” Elliot saw tears forming at the corners of his lids. The officer wiped them away.
Did he ever cry when he was new to the force? Did he ever see a victim-or even a perp-in such a horrible state that he actually wept for them? Elliot couldn’t remember.
“Do you mind if I talk to her?” Olivia asked the young officer.
“Go ahead.” He nodded, gesturing to the door. “She’s sitting in the lobby near the front desk. Her name is Sandra Keystone.”
Elliot raised an eyebrow. “But I thought her mother’s name was Iesha Shelburne,” he pointed out, turning to the two and crossing his arms over his chest.
“Keystone was her father’s last name,” he explained, running a hand through his sandy brown hair. “He and Iesha divorced about seven years ago.”
Detective Benson nodded, turning to leave. Elliot made a mental note to look up Iesha’s ex-husband later.
“It’s a shame,” the young officer mused. “She was observing our town in order to incorporate it into one of her books. My fourteen-year-old sister was a big fan of her work.”
-
-
Well, lemme know what you think. It's just the first two scenes, unbeta'd and unfinished, but any feedback would be appriciated.