Status: Either a work-in-progress or a one-shot, I'm not sure yet.
The Lady in the Red Dress
The Red Dress
She couldn’t see anything. Vaguely, she could make out the shape of the man lying on the bed. She could recognize the colour of the once white, but now crimson-stained sheets, upon which he was laying. She could, through her blurred vision, make out the black jacket that the man was wearing, and she could see the contrast between the deep jet-black of the jacket and the man’s ever paling, deathly white pallor. Her head hurt. What was his name again? She couldn’t remember. She usually remembered their names. Why couldn’t she remember his name? It felt as though something was pushing in on her brain, like she had a tumour in her cranium, or there was a clamp on the inside of her skull. Her hearing slipped in and out of focus, erratic like the pulsing of a tiny mouse’s heart – she could only sometimes hear the shallow, jagged breathing of the man on the bed and her own frantic gasps for breath.
She had to move. She stumbled, and grasped the doorframe of the bathroom for support. “Need air,” she gasped, and staggered over to the open balcony doors. She clutched the door for support as violent shudders wracked through her body and her stomach lurched. Her forehead held beads of perspiration. Her wild eyes skimmed the night sky as the heavens opened with a mighty crash of lightning. Her scarlet dress flailed around her in the gales of wind, exposing her perfectly smooth, long legs, and knocking her off balance in her too-high, ruby red stilettos. Scared out of her mind, yet determined to remain calm, she took a deep, jagged breath and moved to take a step towards the balcony railing, but her legs failed to support her. They gave way and the woman fell to the floor, now retching violently. There she lay, on the cold, white marble floor of the balcony, shuddering, with no-one to help her. Eventually, her body gave one last, epic tremor, and she fell into the ether of unconsciousness.
***
Large drops of rain were falling on her head when she regained consciousness. She was soaked through. Her deep black curls were matted with knots, and they clung to her clammy forehead and neck. She wondered how long she had been out cold… judging by the lingering darkness in the sky, she knew it couldn’t have been long – probably an hour at most. She raised a hand to her head, and wiped away the drenched hair from her beautiful face. As she shrugged the strap of her scarlet dress back onto her shoulder, she wondered what had happened.
She could remember everything clearly. She could remember bringing the man – Peter – up to her room. She could remember him drunkenly caressing her hair, and kissing her lips with wet, soppy kisses. She remembered grimacing with relief when unconsciousness finally took him and when she did what she had to do. What she couldn’t remember was anything after that point. Why had she fallen on the floor? She scoured her mind for answers, but couldn’t find any reason for it.
She felt sore. Carefully, she propped herself up on her elbows, into a sitting position, before turning swiftly and gracefully rising to stand. Her head was no longer pounding, but she felt as though she was suffering from a lingering hangover. She chuckled at this thought, knowing full well what would happen if she DID drink. She brushed the creases out of her clothing, sighed, and set to work clearing up her mess.
She had to move. She stumbled, and grasped the doorframe of the bathroom for support. “Need air,” she gasped, and staggered over to the open balcony doors. She clutched the door for support as violent shudders wracked through her body and her stomach lurched. Her forehead held beads of perspiration. Her wild eyes skimmed the night sky as the heavens opened with a mighty crash of lightning. Her scarlet dress flailed around her in the gales of wind, exposing her perfectly smooth, long legs, and knocking her off balance in her too-high, ruby red stilettos. Scared out of her mind, yet determined to remain calm, she took a deep, jagged breath and moved to take a step towards the balcony railing, but her legs failed to support her. They gave way and the woman fell to the floor, now retching violently. There she lay, on the cold, white marble floor of the balcony, shuddering, with no-one to help her. Eventually, her body gave one last, epic tremor, and she fell into the ether of unconsciousness.
***
Large drops of rain were falling on her head when she regained consciousness. She was soaked through. Her deep black curls were matted with knots, and they clung to her clammy forehead and neck. She wondered how long she had been out cold… judging by the lingering darkness in the sky, she knew it couldn’t have been long – probably an hour at most. She raised a hand to her head, and wiped away the drenched hair from her beautiful face. As she shrugged the strap of her scarlet dress back onto her shoulder, she wondered what had happened.
She could remember everything clearly. She could remember bringing the man – Peter – up to her room. She could remember him drunkenly caressing her hair, and kissing her lips with wet, soppy kisses. She remembered grimacing with relief when unconsciousness finally took him and when she did what she had to do. What she couldn’t remember was anything after that point. Why had she fallen on the floor? She scoured her mind for answers, but couldn’t find any reason for it.
She felt sore. Carefully, she propped herself up on her elbows, into a sitting position, before turning swiftly and gracefully rising to stand. Her head was no longer pounding, but she felt as though she was suffering from a lingering hangover. She chuckled at this thought, knowing full well what would happen if she DID drink. She brushed the creases out of her clothing, sighed, and set to work clearing up her mess.