Status: Finished .
Impulse
Chapter One .
Emma Rae Haner bit into her bottom lip gingerly, tears forming in her large blue eyes as she stared at the blurred reflection in the mirror. Tears fell slowly, rolling in singles down her mascara stained cheeks. Looking down into the sink, she watched as blood dripped from her chin into the area below, staining the porcelain.
Looking up; she examined herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red, puffy from the morning. Bruises covered her left cheek from the blunt trauma that happened the night before. Her neck was bruised; the sickly markings making it that much harder to breathe. She ran her tongue over the large cut at the bottom of her lip, wincing at the stinging pain.
Turning slightly, she pulled up her shirt, sighing at the blackening soft ball shaped discoloration on her lower back. Gauges had been ripped out; leaving her earlobes sore, having just got them stretched to 0g only a week before. Her hair a mess at the top of her head, short blonde girls tangled. She gripped the counter, listening.
He was walking above her; his footsteps heavy, dragging across the floor. The sound of the door slamming shut sent the girl into a state of panic. Heart rate increased, her palms began to sweat, chest heaving. His booming voice calling her name, shaking the girl to her foundation. A large lump formed in her throat as she brought a shaky hand to the door knob.
Nausea set in, her stomach churning in fear as she walked out into the empty hallway. She walked to the stairs; gripping the railing tightly, afraid of losing her balance as she felt her body numb. One foot after the other, her body went cold when she reached the top. Her head began to throb; his voice could be heard from inside the room, just behind the door.
Walking inside, she felt as if time stopped. He stood, shirtless, in the middle of the room. Large arms flexing as his hands curled into fists at his sides. Swiftly, his large fist came in contact with her stomach; tattooed knuckles knocking the wind out of the girl. Emma fell to her knees, gasping. Nausea worsened, and her small hand covered her stomach.
He walked forward; grabbing a fist full of blonde hair, few strands separating from her scalp. Whiskey eyes stared into sky, hatred laced in the irises, blending in with the chocolate colored eyes. His hand tightened around the hair, her small whimper of pain feeding him as he let her drop to the floor. Words weren’t spoken as she quickly left the room.
Shame ran through her as she walked down the stairs, breathing ragged, stomach churning. She had forgotten what he wanted, what he needed. She felt selfish, careless. Stepping into the kitchen, the cold tile sent shivers up and down her spine, making goose bumps cover her skin. His voice was angry as he yelled over the phone, his tone striking fear.
He was Brian Elwin Haner Jr. Guitarist of the California based band, Avenged Sevenfold. The two had meet long before; Brian was 7, Emma only 5. Friendship ended when Brian was 16, Emma 14, a beautiful relationship started, with a promising future. Things went downhill only two years ago, a night that should have ended in love making and happiness, ended in a split lip and tears.
She wondered where he went, Brian. He was once love able, warm, caring. Who he was is gone now, Emma knew. He was never coming back, Brian. Synyster Gates, his alter ego, his split personality had taken over. Brian was locked somewhere inside, so deep, he would most likely never see the light of day again. Such a shame that fact was.
They seemed happy, the perfect couple. Yet, Emma knew that looks could be deceiving. On the outside, to the passerby, the two looked happy, in love, ready to start a family even. To themselves, friends, family, they would know that the two weren’t happy, the relationship was dead, the love had left a long time ago. The fact was enough to send the girl into a depression.
Emma’s fingers wrapped around Johnnie Walker, setting the bottle on the counter as she opened the cabinet overhead. She wrapped her fingers around a small glass, setting it down on the counter in front of her, she screwed the top off, grabbing the bottle, she tipped it over, watching the contents fill the glass. Heavy footsteps shook her; his smell sent her senses on overdrive.
Tattooed fingers wrapped around the glass; disappearing behind her. She bit the inside of her cheek, keeping in her pathetic whimpers as his hand came in contact with her backside, he exhaled sharply, slamming the glass down on the counter in front of her, the sound bouncing off the walls.
“We’re going out, make yourself look halfway decent”
Of course, they would ask why. Why she hadn’t left, why she stayed around to get beaten and yelled at. She could only shrug, because she knew that if she told them why, they would laugh. The reason why she hadn’t left, the reason why she endured all the pain was the small random acts of kindness. The kisses, the occasional ‘I love you’, the hugs, the small, sweet things he did. And, the small inch of hope that Brian would come back.
Looking up; she examined herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red, puffy from the morning. Bruises covered her left cheek from the blunt trauma that happened the night before. Her neck was bruised; the sickly markings making it that much harder to breathe. She ran her tongue over the large cut at the bottom of her lip, wincing at the stinging pain.
Turning slightly, she pulled up her shirt, sighing at the blackening soft ball shaped discoloration on her lower back. Gauges had been ripped out; leaving her earlobes sore, having just got them stretched to 0g only a week before. Her hair a mess at the top of her head, short blonde girls tangled. She gripped the counter, listening.
He was walking above her; his footsteps heavy, dragging across the floor. The sound of the door slamming shut sent the girl into a state of panic. Heart rate increased, her palms began to sweat, chest heaving. His booming voice calling her name, shaking the girl to her foundation. A large lump formed in her throat as she brought a shaky hand to the door knob.
Nausea set in, her stomach churning in fear as she walked out into the empty hallway. She walked to the stairs; gripping the railing tightly, afraid of losing her balance as she felt her body numb. One foot after the other, her body went cold when she reached the top. Her head began to throb; his voice could be heard from inside the room, just behind the door.
Walking inside, she felt as if time stopped. He stood, shirtless, in the middle of the room. Large arms flexing as his hands curled into fists at his sides. Swiftly, his large fist came in contact with her stomach; tattooed knuckles knocking the wind out of the girl. Emma fell to her knees, gasping. Nausea worsened, and her small hand covered her stomach.
He walked forward; grabbing a fist full of blonde hair, few strands separating from her scalp. Whiskey eyes stared into sky, hatred laced in the irises, blending in with the chocolate colored eyes. His hand tightened around the hair, her small whimper of pain feeding him as he let her drop to the floor. Words weren’t spoken as she quickly left the room.
Shame ran through her as she walked down the stairs, breathing ragged, stomach churning. She had forgotten what he wanted, what he needed. She felt selfish, careless. Stepping into the kitchen, the cold tile sent shivers up and down her spine, making goose bumps cover her skin. His voice was angry as he yelled over the phone, his tone striking fear.
He was Brian Elwin Haner Jr. Guitarist of the California based band, Avenged Sevenfold. The two had meet long before; Brian was 7, Emma only 5. Friendship ended when Brian was 16, Emma 14, a beautiful relationship started, with a promising future. Things went downhill only two years ago, a night that should have ended in love making and happiness, ended in a split lip and tears.
She wondered where he went, Brian. He was once love able, warm, caring. Who he was is gone now, Emma knew. He was never coming back, Brian. Synyster Gates, his alter ego, his split personality had taken over. Brian was locked somewhere inside, so deep, he would most likely never see the light of day again. Such a shame that fact was.
They seemed happy, the perfect couple. Yet, Emma knew that looks could be deceiving. On the outside, to the passerby, the two looked happy, in love, ready to start a family even. To themselves, friends, family, they would know that the two weren’t happy, the relationship was dead, the love had left a long time ago. The fact was enough to send the girl into a depression.
Emma’s fingers wrapped around Johnnie Walker, setting the bottle on the counter as she opened the cabinet overhead. She wrapped her fingers around a small glass, setting it down on the counter in front of her, she screwed the top off, grabbing the bottle, she tipped it over, watching the contents fill the glass. Heavy footsteps shook her; his smell sent her senses on overdrive.
Tattooed fingers wrapped around the glass; disappearing behind her. She bit the inside of her cheek, keeping in her pathetic whimpers as his hand came in contact with her backside, he exhaled sharply, slamming the glass down on the counter in front of her, the sound bouncing off the walls.
“We’re going out, make yourself look halfway decent”
Of course, they would ask why. Why she hadn’t left, why she stayed around to get beaten and yelled at. She could only shrug, because she knew that if she told them why, they would laugh. The reason why she hadn’t left, the reason why she endured all the pain was the small random acts of kindness. The kisses, the occasional ‘I love you’, the hugs, the small, sweet things he did. And, the small inch of hope that Brian would come back.
