‹ Prequel: The Way You Want It.
Forever
3
It was not until they had heard the scream and both had fled the flat that Fayth realised she could not forgive him. They had seen things alien even to their eyes, the woman who had knocked upon his door, whom he had seemed so friendly with had been wheeled away by paramedics in a state of shock, confusion, fear.... psychosis... She had been muttering to herself, mentioning the seeing of things not there. Her husband, Duncan, of course wa claiming she had fallen in the kitchen, gone into one of her 'episodes' and this had been the consequence. As Fayth feared it all too often was.
Lyndon had turned and gone into the flat before she had, she had spent several minutes looking into the unsmiling face of Duncan, his eyes cold, more telling than he would have liked she knew, if only he could tell the thoughts, the actions he betrayed to her. How much he hated his wife, how much he hated women.. The way he looked to her, as though he thought she Lyndon's property, somewhat like a puppy running wild for its disobedience, a puppy Lyndon should have leashed and muzzled, tightly controlled. She had almost laughed at that thought, what thought it was she was unsure, that she could even think to invision Lyndon daring so much as to try, or the idea that this man standing acoss from her likely thought her to be Lyndon's wife.
He'd retreated inside his flat, closing the door quickly, she joined Lyndon in the sitting room, sighing deeply as she saw him return to his sofa reading once more, looking up only at her audible sign od disapproval. "What is wrong now?"
"You."
"I should have figured as much. What have I done?"
"You've written that woman's death sentence."
"I write many people's death sentence, I am the executioner paid to carry out such death sentences, what of it? Why is she so different?"
"You seemed to care a great deal for her at the door."
"I did? I can assure you no matter what your misreading of my actions may have been, I cared no more for the girl than I do now."
"Which means?"
"She can die or no, it bothers me so little. She would have been nice to take to bed, what difference does it make now?"
"All the difference you fool! She is a married woman and you thought to take her? I knew you could fall low, I knew you have commited numerous felonies but this? This?!" She emphasised the second time, stamping her foot, her hand hitting the door frame in frutration she looked away to wipe the tears from her eyes, hoping they had been unnoticed. Fayth rarely cared for people, only few so far had touched her heart enough to make her feel a pang when something such as this happened, events triggered such more often. Yet Fayth was a realist, she new little of what went on behind closed doors, she could not be sure the story was not true, or that the woman did not warrant whatever became of her herself. How could she be sure it was Lyndon's unthought out flirting which saw the beautiful woman battered, bruised, blood covered and mumbling incoherent and disordered speech; just because her husband reminded Fayth so much of the man she hated, the man whose life had been cut short at her doing. her father had been much the same, claimed it was in the name of religion and she had hated him all the more for it. Women could easily be misguided... So they were beaten for their own good.
It angered her to even think about it.
Lyndon quickly cut into her thought process, he wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her from her thoughts. "Fayth, dear-"
"Dont."
He released her and sighed, for all Lyndon was, he was no man to force his will, his few morals extended to women alone; he would never touch a woman who proved to be unwilling, unreceptive of his touch unless otherwise employed to do so. Each time he saw her, this woman, this woman who had proved on more than one occasion his equal, debatably his better. She played at his heart strings, keeping his cardiac rhythm at regular pace, exciting him to exhaustion, using her power, power she knew she could exploit against him both physically and emotioanlly. Every part of him wanted her, surely she knew such? To be sent away from her, rejected, it hurt. His mind wandered, drawing it usual conclusion at such a tme, she hated him and did not want him. He felt the tears, the anger, the uncrubable anger. It made him inhale sharply and quickly look away, sending his fist into the wall and made Fayth spin around. When Lyndon looked up and spoke, he could barely hide the crack in his voice, the tears flowed freely. "Because she had disordered speech, because she looked as though she had been beaten, you claim it is my fault, that i should care when you know full well I will not She is a woman, and you know I care for few of those, two I can name I have ever cared for, my mother and-" He stopped, looked to the floor and tred to flee the room. Flee the situation, she joined him quickly in his room looking to him.
"Who Lyndon, your mother ans whio?"
"Just leave me alone."
"Lyndon." She sighed and watched as he sat on the bed, stripping his shirt throwing it to the floor, unbuttoned his trousers and lay down upon the bed. She looked to the clock sat beside his head on a small black bedside table. It was upcoming for midnight, early for him to start his sleeping. "Lyndon, baby." She sat beside him, stroking his cheek, both she knew were taken aback by her sincerity, omething so rare from her it almost stung. "I didn't mean to upset you."
"You meant to reject me."
"Youre not used to rejection?"
"I dont handle it well."
She nodded, sighed, how foolish she had been. She remebered those years ago, looking over his records, his most private records, registering his weakness. Borderline Personality Disorder... His true vulnerablility. She sighed and lay beside him kissing his cheek. "Lyndon... I was wondering." She smiled to herself kissing the between his shoulders, her finger drawing light circles on his belly, slowly moving down. She smiled as he rolled onto his back and kissed his lips, engulfed in passion equally alien to them both, this she knew was not lust, for the first time they both kssed for love. As her hand travelled slowly south she watched him gasp as she stroked, climbing ontop of him gently she smiled. "I'll make you forget her, by the end of tonight all you'll be thinking is my name."
Lyndon had turned and gone into the flat before she had, she had spent several minutes looking into the unsmiling face of Duncan, his eyes cold, more telling than he would have liked she knew, if only he could tell the thoughts, the actions he betrayed to her. How much he hated his wife, how much he hated women.. The way he looked to her, as though he thought she Lyndon's property, somewhat like a puppy running wild for its disobedience, a puppy Lyndon should have leashed and muzzled, tightly controlled. She had almost laughed at that thought, what thought it was she was unsure, that she could even think to invision Lyndon daring so much as to try, or the idea that this man standing acoss from her likely thought her to be Lyndon's wife.
He'd retreated inside his flat, closing the door quickly, she joined Lyndon in the sitting room, sighing deeply as she saw him return to his sofa reading once more, looking up only at her audible sign od disapproval. "What is wrong now?"
"You."
"I should have figured as much. What have I done?"
"You've written that woman's death sentence."
"I write many people's death sentence, I am the executioner paid to carry out such death sentences, what of it? Why is she so different?"
"You seemed to care a great deal for her at the door."
"I did? I can assure you no matter what your misreading of my actions may have been, I cared no more for the girl than I do now."
"Which means?"
"She can die or no, it bothers me so little. She would have been nice to take to bed, what difference does it make now?"
"All the difference you fool! She is a married woman and you thought to take her? I knew you could fall low, I knew you have commited numerous felonies but this? This?!" She emphasised the second time, stamping her foot, her hand hitting the door frame in frutration she looked away to wipe the tears from her eyes, hoping they had been unnoticed. Fayth rarely cared for people, only few so far had touched her heart enough to make her feel a pang when something such as this happened, events triggered such more often. Yet Fayth was a realist, she new little of what went on behind closed doors, she could not be sure the story was not true, or that the woman did not warrant whatever became of her herself. How could she be sure it was Lyndon's unthought out flirting which saw the beautiful woman battered, bruised, blood covered and mumbling incoherent and disordered speech; just because her husband reminded Fayth so much of the man she hated, the man whose life had been cut short at her doing. her father had been much the same, claimed it was in the name of religion and she had hated him all the more for it. Women could easily be misguided... So they were beaten for their own good.
It angered her to even think about it.
Lyndon quickly cut into her thought process, he wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her from her thoughts. "Fayth, dear-"
"Dont."
He released her and sighed, for all Lyndon was, he was no man to force his will, his few morals extended to women alone; he would never touch a woman who proved to be unwilling, unreceptive of his touch unless otherwise employed to do so. Each time he saw her, this woman, this woman who had proved on more than one occasion his equal, debatably his better. She played at his heart strings, keeping his cardiac rhythm at regular pace, exciting him to exhaustion, using her power, power she knew she could exploit against him both physically and emotioanlly. Every part of him wanted her, surely she knew such? To be sent away from her, rejected, it hurt. His mind wandered, drawing it usual conclusion at such a tme, she hated him and did not want him. He felt the tears, the anger, the uncrubable anger. It made him inhale sharply and quickly look away, sending his fist into the wall and made Fayth spin around. When Lyndon looked up and spoke, he could barely hide the crack in his voice, the tears flowed freely. "Because she had disordered speech, because she looked as though she had been beaten, you claim it is my fault, that i should care when you know full well I will not She is a woman, and you know I care for few of those, two I can name I have ever cared for, my mother and-" He stopped, looked to the floor and tred to flee the room. Flee the situation, she joined him quickly in his room looking to him.
"Who Lyndon, your mother ans whio?"
"Just leave me alone."
"Lyndon." She sighed and watched as he sat on the bed, stripping his shirt throwing it to the floor, unbuttoned his trousers and lay down upon the bed. She looked to the clock sat beside his head on a small black bedside table. It was upcoming for midnight, early for him to start his sleeping. "Lyndon, baby." She sat beside him, stroking his cheek, both she knew were taken aback by her sincerity, omething so rare from her it almost stung. "I didn't mean to upset you."
"You meant to reject me."
"Youre not used to rejection?"
"I dont handle it well."
She nodded, sighed, how foolish she had been. She remebered those years ago, looking over his records, his most private records, registering his weakness. Borderline Personality Disorder... His true vulnerablility. She sighed and lay beside him kissing his cheek. "Lyndon... I was wondering." She smiled to herself kissing the between his shoulders, her finger drawing light circles on his belly, slowly moving down. She smiled as he rolled onto his back and kissed his lips, engulfed in passion equally alien to them both, this she knew was not lust, for the first time they both kssed for love. As her hand travelled slowly south she watched him gasp as she stroked, climbing ontop of him gently she smiled. "I'll make you forget her, by the end of tonight all you'll be thinking is my name."