London Maria Baringer (ghost_of_her) wrote in pastarillius, @ 2008-02-28 03:15:00 |
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Entry tags: | christian, london |
Who: London and Christian
When: A little over a year ago.
Where: Serith, Industrial District
What: London's abduction a year ago that resulted in the scar across her stomach and more into the reason of exactly why Christian started to drink again.
Warnings && Ratings: Mild gore.
London was missing. That was all that was going through Christian's mind as he paced back and forth through his living room. His mother-in-law sat, holding an infant Hunter Wolf in her arms, eyes staring out the window with the look in her eyes that she might have to burry another loved one. It was not even that she had been out hunting having said she would rather stay home and take care of their child. This had happened when she had gone to the store for cheese and milk. That was two days ago. Police were out looking for her, other hunters were out looking for her, the people at the grocery store admitted to seeing the red-head. One bum had stuttered out that he had seen a man take her, a bald man, with yellow eyes that had the smell of burnt matches around him. The police of course wrote it off as the man being insane, the hunters knew better. It was the insane ones that always saw the things that the human mind refused to process as real. Sometimes they had just seen so many things that were unbelievable that they were mistaken for being man. The people in white coats would have likely come to haul off Christian if they heard some of the stories he had to say that happened to him. Two days, that was long enough for her body to be destroyed, and if her body was not her mind certainly would be. His fist made contact with the wall and the baby started to cry. London's mother jerked from her trance and gave him a glare as she stood with the child and walked back to where his room was, humming a soothing lullaby. Christian watched her for a moment then went to stand outside, finding a cigarette to light. He did not smoke, but a buddy of his had given him a pack of cigarettes when they had discovered his wife was mssing. It was to help calm his nerves because it was one thing finding a dead body of a loved one it was another not knowing if they were still alive and suffering or not. That was when his boys drove up in a beat up four-by-four truck that was no longer a model made by any car company. The engine, the sides, everything about it had been converted so it was more useful to hunters. Generally for hunting lycanthropes when they decided to go hunting under the full moon. Christian had only gone a couple of times for that if only because London never liked to hunt them, she would give him one of those looks that said she wanted to say something but was just going to hold her tongue. The motioned him over and he walked towards the truck, flicking his cigarette off to the side as the owner of the truck, Chuck, rolled down his window and pointed to the back. "Hop in, we think we have a lead." There were five of them. All of them looking like the product of what happens when a goth tries to mate with a redneck. There were jeans, there were black coats, there were large silver crosses dangling from their necks. Most of them appeared they needed to shave but Christian could feel the shadow of a beard coming across his face. Christian just nodded his head and jumped into the back of the truck as it peeled off watching his sanctuary vanish behind trees and dirt roads. His mind wandering backwards thinking of better times because the reality of today was hard for him to take. London stood outside with her hand opened to the horse that was taking the offered oats out of it greedily as if it was the beast's last meal. Her mind was so focused on what she was doing she had not even heard him approach until he was right there beside her. A hand trailing across and exposed shoulder because her shirt had fallen down. London tugged the shirt up further, her stomach obviously heavy with child. She had smiled then and taken his hand and put it to her stomach, "He is kicking." He was jerked away by someone saying his name and the gun was placed into his hand before his mind seemed to curl around what was going on. Briefly his mind registered that they had found a lead, demon in nature, it was one of those that got away. The ones that tended to get away always came back and tried to get revenge, but they were smart, they knew how to bring out the hunters with bait. London just happened to be that bait. An almost innocent bystander, a demon drawn by red hair and the scent of a man lingering on her that had tried to kill him earlier that week. It was a normal looking townhouse they stormed into. It could almost be called quaint from the outside with flowers used to decorate the porch; most dying from lack of care or the fact their planter did not really like flowers. The house was in perfect order and these places always made Christian wish it was more like the movies where there was a pentagram drawn on the floor with blood. Something that hinted to the sinister being that occupied these walls. A demon that stole children from the street, not just their candy, and mailed parts of their bodies back to parents with the show that something had been chewing on their pretty fingers or toes. Likely the demon himself. It was so easy to see all of the supernatural as evil when he had heard the details of this killer, this killer that had taken up his wife, the only thing that actually kept him sane in any sort of situation. A person being dead or alive mattered little because exposed guts of any sort of the stomach did not smell good. It was no quite rotting meat, but it was fresh, and there was no scream but a low moan of pain that came from a throat too horse to scream further. London was in the living room, the demon no in sight, it looked as if a messy job of C-Section surgery was done to her, the way her body was ripped open and left on display on the couch. There were parts of her hanging out that should not be hanging and oddly enough it looked neat. The way certain body parts were pulled out and exposed to the world, everything so red against her flesh that was even paler from the blood loss. Christian did not know if further things had been done to the woman he loved. In that moment he forgot what the gift of laughter was because in any hunt he cracked a joke, in any kill he had to find a way to laugh because if he did not laugh he might just go insane. No, instead he was staring at this figure in front of him, London so exposed to the world, and looking more fragile than he had ever seen her. The demon was gone from the house, they searched, but he could not be found. A note was left for them, words Now we are even. Scribbled down with a black pen. That note still kept with the other treasures in one of Christian’s drawers at the house. But that was of little matter because right now he could see London was still alive and clinging by a strand. There were tear stains on her cheek and her lips were ripped on the sides as if they had been stretched apart, perhaps even cut, he did not want to even consider the possibilities of what were done. He was by her side and was not sure what to do with all the blood, with all her insides that were hanging out. He touched them, his hands cold and exposed, trying to put them back inside of her body and winced as she screamed. Then fell back to quiet sobs of pains. An ambulance had been called, they were on their way, and Christian finally sat back and just took up her hand in his own, looking at her. “Everything is going to be alright, honey…” Whatever horrors had come to her in the two days she was missing, she would never speak of. And in fact, the majority of it, she did not remember. As if her mind had switched off and all she could ever tell of that time, in that apartment, was that it felt like she was reliving moments that were familiar. Though those thoughts were only spoken once, and they were spoken to Logan when she awoke from her coma in the hospital bed. Not now and never to Christian because she would always hide so much from him because she did not want to hurt him. Even though she regretted the choice she made for marrying him. “Damon…” The name came out as a soft moan and Christian almost thought he missed it. He wondered if that were the name of the demon and he squeezed her hand tightly, as if to let her know that he was there. “I can’t die.. I promised, Damon…” He felt his heart constrict further, suffocating in his chest at her words. Words spoken by a woman in pain he felt the need to say, “It’s Christian, London, Christian, your husband. You can’t die and leave me alone.” Her hand felt so fragile there, he felt like if he held it to tight it would break right in his hand. There was no twitch in her fingers to let him know she even knew he was there. Those mysterious eyes of her seemed to swim with images only it could see. “No… I promised him… I promised I would come back. Last chance. Damon, he’s out there. Love…” Christian did not really want to hear anymore, he tried to convinced himself it was just a voice, it was just something else. He brought her hand up to his lips, trembling, pressing a kiss there as he stared at her. “But I love you…” Was all he could get out as he listened to this woman call out for someone else. Someone he was not sure who it was. Just talk of a delusional woman that was hurt but it felt like so much more. It could have been the blood, it could have been his failure to be there on time, to save her. There were so many things and perhaps so many reasons she should not love him. He truly cared for her, he always had, he tried to quit drinking for her, she was the mother of his goddamn kid! So why couldn’t she just say his name? That paramedics came and carefully took her to the hospital. He road with them, of course, not holding his wife’s hand as he looked on in a state of shock while the paramedics tried to save her. A miracle they all said that she had survived, a miracle she breathed, a miracle that she mutter some other guys fucking name. Christian fell silent, feeling the demon that dwelled inside of him laughing, feeling it crawl around in his gut. London remained in a coma for a week. The doctors had saved her but said she would never be able to reproduce again. She woke up saying she wanted to go back to hunting, once she was healed, a look in her eyes that was distant. Honestly after the attack she was never the same. She never elaborated on the name she spoke and Christian figured she did not even know she said it. He never asked, he did not want to find out. Instead he just took care of her the best he could. The alcohol helped though. It helped with a lot of things. It saved him from failure, it protected him from heartbreak. And yes, he knew he was apparently a monster when he drank, but how could he stop? If he stopped he would have to face it all, he would have to realize that his life was not what it should be. When he drank he could pretend otherwise, he had everything he could ever dream to have after downing a bottle of Tequila. He did not even have to watch his world fall apart in front of him because he would fall into the warm liquid embrace of intoxication. |