Fic: Lies in Silence Chapter Twenty-six
LIES IN SILENCE CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
by SlwMtionDaylite
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I own nothing. Paramount, et al. own all. I really wish they would let me borrow Spock for a while though.
Rating: MA/NC-17
Genre: Angst, Drama, Erotica, Hurt/Comfort
Characters/Pairing: Spock/Uhura
Word Count (Chapter Twenty-Six): 2564
Beta: jlneveloff
Warnings: Language, explicit and non-explicit sexual situations, slight dub!con, rape, violence, minor Fem!slash, torture.
Summary: Alternate Mirror Universe. He wants to protect me; I want that protection, need it, in fact. But I am willing to betray him if and when the time comes. We are not working together. I know my goals. But what are his?
PREVIOUS CHAPTERS
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The Falling Shadow Across the Floor
Robau drags me from the Commander’s apartment. Down the corridor, descend in the turbolift-the few men we see ignore us-and out the lobby. There’s a taxi there waiting. Our ride. I am shoved into the backseat and Robau joins me.
He orders the driver to a hotel. Deep in the middle of downtown San Francisco. Some distance away from the Academy-how am I going to get back?-it stands proud and tall against the skyline. Ritzy. Five-star. A place befitting the respected, the wealthy men of the Empire.
We enter the lobby. I keep my head down. How easily I return to the ways of a whore. Head down. Don’t look. Don’t speak. Don’t do anything unless you’re told. Then, do it without question, without hesitation. If I do this, if I do everything he wants me to do, I may get out of here alive. I may be able to put him in the past, move away from him. Return to the Commander and-
And what? Count the days until he files the correct paperwork to make me his? Hang on to the hope that he will still release me when it’s safe?
“Is ol’ Archer in?” Robau asks. A casual question regarding the Emperor. Where are the armed guards? The security detail? How can Robau expect to get us in without rousing suspicion?
“Good evening, Richard. Brought the Emperor a present?”
I glance up, glance down. We’re standing in front of the concierge. A tall man. Debonair.
“Only the best for our esteemed Emperor.” Robau seizes my arm, thrusts me forward.
I freeze in front of the concierge.
He smiles. Leers. “What’s with the uniform?”
“The Emperor’s special request.”
The man laughs. “Very well. He’s in the penthouse. Top floor. I’ll contact him. Let him know you’re headed up.”
“Thank you.”
We head for the turbolift.
The door slides close. My heart pounds, my breath rushes. Something cold, metallic is pressed into my hands. I glance down.
A knife.
“I trust you know how to use that.” Robau doesn’t look at me. He stares at the increasing numbers above the door. “You will have one hour after I leave. Afterwards, I’ll return. And, if you’ve succeeded-”
“You’ll help me escape?” That was the original plan. Does it still hold true? Or is he too angry at me, too disappointed? Would he rather I fall to the wolves, the wolves that will surely come the moment they hear their leader has been assassinated-
Can I do this? Can I kill a man who has done nothing directly to me? But...
He has, hasn’t he? He’s the one who allows the laws to continue to exist. He’s the one who’s passed some of them. So, he is responsible for some of my life.
I slip the knife into the back of my waistband. As loose as the uniform is, the blade’s shape cannot be seen under the red fabric. He’ll never see it coming. Until it’s too late.
The turbolift slows. The doors open.
A short corridor leads to a door. We move toward it, Robau’s hand grasping my shoulder. He seems to worry I’m going to run. But where would I run? I don’t know where to go.
The door to the penthouse opens. And the Emperor, dressed in delicate, elegant silk pajamas, steps out. He laughs. “Richard. Been a while.”
Robau steps forward. Hugs him. “Too long.”
My eyes widen. Robau is friendly with the Emperor? Why does he want to kill him?
“I wasn’t sure you were even in town. Until your people called me.”
“Yeah. I’m in town for the graduation ceremony at Starfleet-”
Graduation ceremony. It was supposed to be my graduation. But no longer. I am no longer a student. I wonder if anyone even noticed when Benjamin Uhura ceased going to classes. I wonder if anyone even cared.
“Where’s your security? I gotta say, I’m surprised it was so...lacking.”
The Emperor laughs. “I sent them down to the bar for the evening. I have plans I don’t want them interrupting.”
I stare at his silk-clad legs. A small pattern is on the dark fabric. Paisley? Don’t look up. Not unless you’ve been given permission. I haven’t received that yet. Don’t listen to them either. I don’t want to know the details. I don’t want to comprehend, understand how they know each other. I don’t get it. I don’t want to get it. I just want to do what I’m supposed to do and get the fuck out of here. I don’t want to linger. I don’t want to listen to the small talk.
He steps back. Robau pushes me forward and we enter the Emperor’s penthouse.
“I’ve gotta say, Richard. She isn’t what I was expecting.”
My breath catches. They’ve directed the conversation to me. The smooth sharp edges of the blade rest against my back. Comforting.
“Oh, believe me, Archer, this girl here, she can bring a fucking Vulcan to his knees, sobbing. You’ll be pleased. Trust me. She’s quite the ride.”
I flinch. My eyes slam close. This is what Robau’s been grooming me for? To fuck the Emperor, then kill him? But he promised me I wouldn’t have to do that again. But then, he-
They’re talking. Exchanging words. The blood rushing in my ears is too loud, it drowns the drones of their voices out. I should probably listen to them. I should probably pay attention. There might be some clue in their conversation. But I can’t. Or I won’t.
Still trying to decide which it is.
The door slides open and closed again. Robau has left me. Alone with the Emperor.
I have one hour.
One hour to-
To fuck him? To kill him, yes. But when will I know when to make my move? When will I know it’s the right time? When will I know my time is over.
A hand clenches my chin and forces my face up. I stare into the eyes of the Empire’s leader for the first time. Strong, chiseled jaw. Stern eyes. Slight wrinkles across his forehead, laugh lines along his face. He resembles his famous father immensely, the man who crossed the boundaries of the universes, who slipped into the Vintaak System and brought to the Empire a vessel unlike any we’d seen. The *USS Defiant* . He brought that to us. And his son is now our leader.
“You’re quite pretty, aren’t you?” His voice is soft, belying the harshness I know to lie underneath. He is the leader who continues to allow us to suffer, who has signed laws into being. He deserves to die. He tilts my head to the side. Hums. “Seems like someone was a naughty girl, huh?”
Robau struck me. A bruise must be forming.
He releases my chin. His hands settle on my body. Skimming across the fabric of the uniform. Squeezing my breasts. Flitting between my legs.
My eyes settle on some spot in the distance. A dark spot on the Baroque wallpaper of the room. If I just stay silent, stay pliant, compliant, it’ll be over quicker. Then I can-
What?
He pushes down his pants then grabs my hand. Brings it to his half-hard dick. Presses my hand against it. I know what he wants me to do. I’ve done it so many times.
I close my eyes, squeezing my lids close. I wrap my fingers around his prick. Pump.
It’ll be over soon.
He groans.
I fight bile rising.
This man doesn’t care if I receive pleasure from this or not. That’s the difference between this man-all the other men-and Commander Spock. The Commander, despite my reservations, my fears, my self-hatred, at least made sure I was ready for him.
This man, the Emperor. He won’t care.
He wraps his arms around me, leans in. Presses his lips against mine, my neck. In a mock attempt to make this mutual. To make this seem like something consensual. He steps back, his prick falls away from my hand. He grabs the collar of my top and yanks it open. Buttons fly. Fabric rips.
I continue to stare at that dark spot on the wallpaper.
He shoves the top off my shoulders and it tumbles to the ground. The rustling of the fabric, loud in the silence of the room.
My bare nipples tighten as the cooler air strikes them.
It’ll be over.
It won’t be long now.
He touches me. His hands on my bare skin. Fingers pinch my nipples-I wince-hands squeeze my breasts.
“Yes. I can see why you’re his favorite.”
My eyes falter from the spot, fly to his.
He cups my face with his hands. “Tell me, gorgeous. What’s your name?”
Answer him. He asked a question. I must answer. “N-Nyota.” My name stumbles on my lips.
He brings a thumb to my mouth, traces it. “Nyota. I like it.” He steps closer to me, towering. “You don’t want to disobey your Emperor, do you?”
I shake my head.
“Good. If you behave, do as I say, I won’t have to hurt you.”
I choke on a sob. I nod. “Yes, sir.”
“That’s a good girl. Now, get on your knees.”
I do. I wonder how many whores...Courtesans would envy my position. On my knees before the leader of our Empire. About to have him-he’s going to fuck me.
He grabs me by the hair, steps in front of me. His prick, eye level. I know what he wants me to do. I-
I can’t do it. I brace myself on his thighs and push away. “No.”
He stumbles, I fall backwards.
He yells. Anger. Frustration. The little whore isn’t doing as she’s told. He strikes me. I fly sideways, narrowly missing the edge of the great wooden coffee table.
I crawl away from him. I need to get to my feet. My hand reaches behind my back, reaching for the knife.
He grabs me by the neck, hauls me up-I scream-slams me into the coffee table. He’s yelling, but I can’t hear his words. The sting of the wood on my back overwhelms. The blade digs into my skin, I can feel it cutting me.
He hovers over me, his hands on my throat. Tightening. I struggle for the blade.
I feel the hilt in my hand. I wrap my fingers around it, he tightens his hold on me. Stars in my eyes. Does he aim to kill me? Or teach me a lesson?
I don’t wait to find out. I pull the blade out from underneath me, the edges covered with a thin layer of blood, my blood.
Emperor Archer’s eyes widen.
And I swing the knife upward; he screams. Jab it into his neck.
He gags. Falls on me.
I shove him off. Pull the knife out. Stab again. Chest. Stab over and over.
Crimson red covers the coffee table, drips onto the floor. Flies for the walls, the ceiling. Lands on me.
He gasps. Retches. Flounders.
I don’t stop. I can’t.
I stab and stab. I pant, I gasp. I cry.
He dies.
I back away from the body. Prostrate on the coffee table, like some kind of fucked up martyr.
I killed him.
Where’s the joy I should be feeling?
Tears fall. They blur. I fall to my knees. A puddle of blood beneath me.
Fingers wrap around my shoulders.
I scream. Hand covers my mouth.
A voice. Robau.
He’s returned. He praises me. Congratulates me.
I wasn’t useless after all, he says.
But-
He’s sorry to say, though, he has no further use for me. The job’s done. But don’t fret. Scores of women throughout the Empire will know what I did for them. But don’t escape. Can’t escape anyway.
I look beautiful covered in red.
He would look quite handsome in red, as well. I think.
Liar.
Betrayer.
I spin. I stab. He dies.
A fallen lamp casts a shadow. A long shadow across the floor.
I stumble out of the door. My hands shake. Tremble. I did it. It’s done.
Their blood is on my hands.
The door slides closed behind me, the quiet pwoosh of air escaping a deafening exclamation to the violence that lay beyond. The hallway is dark, lit only by one singular fixture further down, close to the turbolift.
I raise shaking hands to my face, fingers through my disheveled hair. Dropping my gaze, I make a strangled sound-a strange mix of a gasp and a sob.
My top is torn, buttons missing, sash askew. I cling to the collar, clenching it my hands, covering my chest. Blood covers it, as well.
I can’t stay.
I turn. Stumble to the turbolift. Press the button to summon it. My heart races in my chest while I wait. This is a hotel. A fancy, well-to-do hotel. I could be seen. I could be caught.
I pant, the puffs of air rushing past my lips. Oh, God. If I am spotted-
The turbolift arrives and the doors open. I rush inside, tripping over the lip. Press the button to go to the bottom floor.
I have to go through the lobby. Or I have to find a back entrance. I have to get out of here. I can’t let anyone see me. I can’t be arrested. I can’t go to the Wall. I can’t be executed. I can’t-
I should have showered. Yes. I should have showered while I was in the hotel room, while their dead corpses started rotting while the blood still oozed from their mortal wounds.
Oh, God.
My stomach clenches and I feel bile burning my throat.
I drop my hands from my chest and lean forward, resting them against my knees. I close my eyes, take deep breaths. I need to get control of myself.
The door opens. I jerk up, my hand grasping my collar.
There’s a man standing in front of me. Eyes wide. Small smirk on his face. Wearing a Starfleet cadet uniform.
James Kirk.
I freeze, my blood turns to ice. My breath escapes my lungs and I gasp, struggling for air.
I do not look innocent. Blood covers me. My clothing is torn. I’m coming from a hotel room.
His eyes narrow. What’s he doing here? Why is he here? The smirk grows larger. Recognition lights his face. Oh, God. He knows who I am.
He steps forward and I stumble backwards, my legs locking.
This is it. This is the end. Tears burn.
He leans in towards me. “Take the hallway on the right and follow it until you come to a large double door. Turn left. At the end of the hall is the back exit.”
I gasp. “What?”
He smiles. “Captain Pike will be pleased...Benjamin.” He steps backwards and I shuffle forward, moving around him.
He’s-he’s letting me go? He’s involved with this, too? I don’t have time. I can’t stop. I can’t ask.
I rush down the hallway, following his orders, escaping into the darkness.
Blood pours out of his mouth. I loved you, you know. You made me proud. So different from the other girls. So much fire, passion. Yes, you were my favorite.
He shouldn’t have come back.
I guess we all make mistakes.
by SlwMtionDaylite
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I own nothing. Paramount, et al. own all. I really wish they would let me borrow Spock for a while though.
Rating: MA/NC-17
Genre: Angst, Drama, Erotica, Hurt/Comfort
Characters/Pairing: Spock/Uhura
Word Count (Chapter Twenty-Six): 2564
Beta: jlneveloff
Warnings: Language, explicit and non-explicit sexual situations, slight dub!con, rape, violence, minor Fem!slash, torture.
Summary: Alternate Mirror Universe. He wants to protect me; I want that protection, need it, in fact. But I am willing to betray him if and when the time comes. We are not working together. I know my goals. But what are his?
PREVIOUS CHAPTERS
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The Falling Shadow Across the Floor
Robau drags me from the Commander’s apartment. Down the corridor, descend in the turbolift-the few men we see ignore us-and out the lobby. There’s a taxi there waiting. Our ride. I am shoved into the backseat and Robau joins me.
He orders the driver to a hotel. Deep in the middle of downtown San Francisco. Some distance away from the Academy-how am I going to get back?-it stands proud and tall against the skyline. Ritzy. Five-star. A place befitting the respected, the wealthy men of the Empire.
We enter the lobby. I keep my head down. How easily I return to the ways of a whore. Head down. Don’t look. Don’t speak. Don’t do anything unless you’re told. Then, do it without question, without hesitation. If I do this, if I do everything he wants me to do, I may get out of here alive. I may be able to put him in the past, move away from him. Return to the Commander and-
And what? Count the days until he files the correct paperwork to make me his? Hang on to the hope that he will still release me when it’s safe?
“Is ol’ Archer in?” Robau asks. A casual question regarding the Emperor. Where are the armed guards? The security detail? How can Robau expect to get us in without rousing suspicion?
“Good evening, Richard. Brought the Emperor a present?”
I glance up, glance down. We’re standing in front of the concierge. A tall man. Debonair.
“Only the best for our esteemed Emperor.” Robau seizes my arm, thrusts me forward.
I freeze in front of the concierge.
He smiles. Leers. “What’s with the uniform?”
“The Emperor’s special request.”
The man laughs. “Very well. He’s in the penthouse. Top floor. I’ll contact him. Let him know you’re headed up.”
“Thank you.”
We head for the turbolift.
The door slides close. My heart pounds, my breath rushes. Something cold, metallic is pressed into my hands. I glance down.
A knife.
“I trust you know how to use that.” Robau doesn’t look at me. He stares at the increasing numbers above the door. “You will have one hour after I leave. Afterwards, I’ll return. And, if you’ve succeeded-”
“You’ll help me escape?” That was the original plan. Does it still hold true? Or is he too angry at me, too disappointed? Would he rather I fall to the wolves, the wolves that will surely come the moment they hear their leader has been assassinated-
Can I do this? Can I kill a man who has done nothing directly to me? But...
He has, hasn’t he? He’s the one who allows the laws to continue to exist. He’s the one who’s passed some of them. So, he is responsible for some of my life.
I slip the knife into the back of my waistband. As loose as the uniform is, the blade’s shape cannot be seen under the red fabric. He’ll never see it coming. Until it’s too late.
The turbolift slows. The doors open.
A short corridor leads to a door. We move toward it, Robau’s hand grasping my shoulder. He seems to worry I’m going to run. But where would I run? I don’t know where to go.
The door to the penthouse opens. And the Emperor, dressed in delicate, elegant silk pajamas, steps out. He laughs. “Richard. Been a while.”
Robau steps forward. Hugs him. “Too long.”
My eyes widen. Robau is friendly with the Emperor? Why does he want to kill him?
“I wasn’t sure you were even in town. Until your people called me.”
“Yeah. I’m in town for the graduation ceremony at Starfleet-”
Graduation ceremony. It was supposed to be my graduation. But no longer. I am no longer a student. I wonder if anyone even noticed when Benjamin Uhura ceased going to classes. I wonder if anyone even cared.
“Where’s your security? I gotta say, I’m surprised it was so...lacking.”
The Emperor laughs. “I sent them down to the bar for the evening. I have plans I don’t want them interrupting.”
I stare at his silk-clad legs. A small pattern is on the dark fabric. Paisley? Don’t look up. Not unless you’ve been given permission. I haven’t received that yet. Don’t listen to them either. I don’t want to know the details. I don’t want to comprehend, understand how they know each other. I don’t get it. I don’t want to get it. I just want to do what I’m supposed to do and get the fuck out of here. I don’t want to linger. I don’t want to listen to the small talk.
He steps back. Robau pushes me forward and we enter the Emperor’s penthouse.
“I’ve gotta say, Richard. She isn’t what I was expecting.”
My breath catches. They’ve directed the conversation to me. The smooth sharp edges of the blade rest against my back. Comforting.
“Oh, believe me, Archer, this girl here, she can bring a fucking Vulcan to his knees, sobbing. You’ll be pleased. Trust me. She’s quite the ride.”
I flinch. My eyes slam close. This is what Robau’s been grooming me for? To fuck the Emperor, then kill him? But he promised me I wouldn’t have to do that again. But then, he-
They’re talking. Exchanging words. The blood rushing in my ears is too loud, it drowns the drones of their voices out. I should probably listen to them. I should probably pay attention. There might be some clue in their conversation. But I can’t. Or I won’t.
Still trying to decide which it is.
The door slides open and closed again. Robau has left me. Alone with the Emperor.
I have one hour.
One hour to-
To fuck him? To kill him, yes. But when will I know when to make my move? When will I know it’s the right time? When will I know my time is over.
A hand clenches my chin and forces my face up. I stare into the eyes of the Empire’s leader for the first time. Strong, chiseled jaw. Stern eyes. Slight wrinkles across his forehead, laugh lines along his face. He resembles his famous father immensely, the man who crossed the boundaries of the universes, who slipped into the Vintaak System and brought to the Empire a vessel unlike any we’d seen. The *USS Defiant* . He brought that to us. And his son is now our leader.
“You’re quite pretty, aren’t you?” His voice is soft, belying the harshness I know to lie underneath. He is the leader who continues to allow us to suffer, who has signed laws into being. He deserves to die. He tilts my head to the side. Hums. “Seems like someone was a naughty girl, huh?”
Robau struck me. A bruise must be forming.
He releases my chin. His hands settle on my body. Skimming across the fabric of the uniform. Squeezing my breasts. Flitting between my legs.
My eyes settle on some spot in the distance. A dark spot on the Baroque wallpaper of the room. If I just stay silent, stay pliant, compliant, it’ll be over quicker. Then I can-
What?
He pushes down his pants then grabs my hand. Brings it to his half-hard dick. Presses my hand against it. I know what he wants me to do. I’ve done it so many times.
I close my eyes, squeezing my lids close. I wrap my fingers around his prick. Pump.
It’ll be over soon.
He groans.
I fight bile rising.
This man doesn’t care if I receive pleasure from this or not. That’s the difference between this man-all the other men-and Commander Spock. The Commander, despite my reservations, my fears, my self-hatred, at least made sure I was ready for him.
This man, the Emperor. He won’t care.
He wraps his arms around me, leans in. Presses his lips against mine, my neck. In a mock attempt to make this mutual. To make this seem like something consensual. He steps back, his prick falls away from my hand. He grabs the collar of my top and yanks it open. Buttons fly. Fabric rips.
I continue to stare at that dark spot on the wallpaper.
He shoves the top off my shoulders and it tumbles to the ground. The rustling of the fabric, loud in the silence of the room.
My bare nipples tighten as the cooler air strikes them.
It’ll be over.
It won’t be long now.
He touches me. His hands on my bare skin. Fingers pinch my nipples-I wince-hands squeeze my breasts.
“Yes. I can see why you’re his favorite.”
My eyes falter from the spot, fly to his.
He cups my face with his hands. “Tell me, gorgeous. What’s your name?”
Answer him. He asked a question. I must answer. “N-Nyota.” My name stumbles on my lips.
He brings a thumb to my mouth, traces it. “Nyota. I like it.” He steps closer to me, towering. “You don’t want to disobey your Emperor, do you?”
I shake my head.
“Good. If you behave, do as I say, I won’t have to hurt you.”
I choke on a sob. I nod. “Yes, sir.”
“That’s a good girl. Now, get on your knees.”
I do. I wonder how many whores...Courtesans would envy my position. On my knees before the leader of our Empire. About to have him-he’s going to fuck me.
He grabs me by the hair, steps in front of me. His prick, eye level. I know what he wants me to do. I-
I can’t do it. I brace myself on his thighs and push away. “No.”
He stumbles, I fall backwards.
He yells. Anger. Frustration. The little whore isn’t doing as she’s told. He strikes me. I fly sideways, narrowly missing the edge of the great wooden coffee table.
I crawl away from him. I need to get to my feet. My hand reaches behind my back, reaching for the knife.
He grabs me by the neck, hauls me up-I scream-slams me into the coffee table. He’s yelling, but I can’t hear his words. The sting of the wood on my back overwhelms. The blade digs into my skin, I can feel it cutting me.
He hovers over me, his hands on my throat. Tightening. I struggle for the blade.
I feel the hilt in my hand. I wrap my fingers around it, he tightens his hold on me. Stars in my eyes. Does he aim to kill me? Or teach me a lesson?
I don’t wait to find out. I pull the blade out from underneath me, the edges covered with a thin layer of blood, my blood.
Emperor Archer’s eyes widen.
And I swing the knife upward; he screams. Jab it into his neck.
He gags. Falls on me.
I shove him off. Pull the knife out. Stab again. Chest. Stab over and over.
Crimson red covers the coffee table, drips onto the floor. Flies for the walls, the ceiling. Lands on me.
He gasps. Retches. Flounders.
I don’t stop. I can’t.
I stab and stab. I pant, I gasp. I cry.
He dies.
I back away from the body. Prostrate on the coffee table, like some kind of fucked up martyr.
I killed him.
Where’s the joy I should be feeling?
Tears fall. They blur. I fall to my knees. A puddle of blood beneath me.
Fingers wrap around my shoulders.
I scream. Hand covers my mouth.
A voice. Robau.
He’s returned. He praises me. Congratulates me.
I wasn’t useless after all, he says.
But-
He’s sorry to say, though, he has no further use for me. The job’s done. But don’t fret. Scores of women throughout the Empire will know what I did for them. But don’t escape. Can’t escape anyway.
I look beautiful covered in red.
He would look quite handsome in red, as well. I think.
Liar.
Betrayer.
I spin. I stab. He dies.
A fallen lamp casts a shadow. A long shadow across the floor.
I stumble out of the door. My hands shake. Tremble. I did it. It’s done.
Their blood is on my hands.
The door slides closed behind me, the quiet pwoosh of air escaping a deafening exclamation to the violence that lay beyond. The hallway is dark, lit only by one singular fixture further down, close to the turbolift.
I raise shaking hands to my face, fingers through my disheveled hair. Dropping my gaze, I make a strangled sound-a strange mix of a gasp and a sob.
My top is torn, buttons missing, sash askew. I cling to the collar, clenching it my hands, covering my chest. Blood covers it, as well.
I can’t stay.
I turn. Stumble to the turbolift. Press the button to summon it. My heart races in my chest while I wait. This is a hotel. A fancy, well-to-do hotel. I could be seen. I could be caught.
I pant, the puffs of air rushing past my lips. Oh, God. If I am spotted-
The turbolift arrives and the doors open. I rush inside, tripping over the lip. Press the button to go to the bottom floor.
I have to go through the lobby. Or I have to find a back entrance. I have to get out of here. I can’t let anyone see me. I can’t be arrested. I can’t go to the Wall. I can’t be executed. I can’t-
I should have showered. Yes. I should have showered while I was in the hotel room, while their dead corpses started rotting while the blood still oozed from their mortal wounds.
Oh, God.
My stomach clenches and I feel bile burning my throat.
I drop my hands from my chest and lean forward, resting them against my knees. I close my eyes, take deep breaths. I need to get control of myself.
The door opens. I jerk up, my hand grasping my collar.
There’s a man standing in front of me. Eyes wide. Small smirk on his face. Wearing a Starfleet cadet uniform.
James Kirk.
I freeze, my blood turns to ice. My breath escapes my lungs and I gasp, struggling for air.
I do not look innocent. Blood covers me. My clothing is torn. I’m coming from a hotel room.
His eyes narrow. What’s he doing here? Why is he here? The smirk grows larger. Recognition lights his face. Oh, God. He knows who I am.
He steps forward and I stumble backwards, my legs locking.
This is it. This is the end. Tears burn.
He leans in towards me. “Take the hallway on the right and follow it until you come to a large double door. Turn left. At the end of the hall is the back exit.”
I gasp. “What?”
He smiles. “Captain Pike will be pleased...Benjamin.” He steps backwards and I shuffle forward, moving around him.
He’s-he’s letting me go? He’s involved with this, too? I don’t have time. I can’t stop. I can’t ask.
I rush down the hallway, following his orders, escaping into the darkness.
Blood pours out of his mouth. I loved you, you know. You made me proud. So different from the other girls. So much fire, passion. Yes, you were my favorite.
He shouldn’t have come back.
I guess we all make mistakes.