Snapshots is not dead! After a great brainstorming session we now have a full story plot to work with. I'm hoping this will be the first in many new scenes soon to come in Evelyn and Zach's story. Thank you for reading and following Snapshots!
She pressed the washcloth to her nose, attempting to stem the flow of blood. The sticky liquid socked the cloth and covered her hands. Her nasal cavity throbbed; burned from the frequent use of drugs the nosebleeds were becoming more frequent.
Tears coursed down her cheeks, mingling with her blood. She whipped at them, wincing as her hand brushed over her black eye evidence to her recent beating. Things were getting worse; the beatings, the nosebleeds and the blackouts. They were killing her, the drugs, and him. But what could she do? She had nothing, no one, nowhere to go. Besides, if she left, where would she get the drugs? She needed them, without them she would die – with them she would die.
The outside door slammed and a gruff voice screamed her name. “Evelyn! Where the hell are you girl!”
Evelyn pushed herself farther into the dark corner of the closest. Shaking from fear and the loss of blood, she gripped the reddened cloth tighter, holding it close to her nose and mouth, trying to muffle her breathing.
“God, don’t let him find me,” terrified she stared at the crack of light piercing through into the closet from the barley open door.
“Evelyn! I’m going to find you!”
Pressing her knees against her chest she willed her body to disappear into her hiding place. Don’t find me, please, don’t find me!
The sound of heavy footsteps, crashes of pots and pans along with streams of curses pour from outside the closet. Evelyn began to tremble; memories of past beats taunting her, giving her a picture of what was to come if he found her.
The closet door swung open, slamming against the wall and blinding Evelyn. A shadow stepped in front of her, blocking the light.
“Mike. N… no,” Evelyn stammered weakly. She held up her hands, blocking her face.
Mike grabbed her by the hair and yanked her from the closet. Throwing her to the floor he loomed over her. Evelyn whimpered helplessly, the tormenting had begun again.
Written by StoryGirl
~~~
She pressed the washcloth to her nose, attempting to stem the flow of blood. The sticky liquid socked the cloth and covered her hands. Her nasal cavity throbbed; burned from the frequent use of drugs the nosebleeds were becoming more frequent.
Tears coursed down her cheeks, mingling with her blood. She whipped at them, wincing as her hand brushed over her black eye evidence to her recent beating. Things were getting worse; the beatings, the nosebleeds and the blackouts. They were killing her, the drugs, and him. But what could she do? She had nothing, no one, nowhere to go. Besides, if she left, where would she get the drugs? She needed them, without them she would die – with them she would die.
The outside door slammed and a gruff voice screamed her name. “Evelyn! Where the hell are you girl!”
Evelyn pushed herself farther into the dark corner of the closest. Shaking from fear and the loss of blood, she gripped the reddened cloth tighter, holding it close to her nose and mouth, trying to muffle her breathing.
“God, don’t let him find me,” terrified she stared at the crack of light piercing through into the closet from the barley open door.
“Evelyn! I’m going to find you!”
Pressing her knees against her chest she willed her body to disappear into her hiding place. Don’t find me, please, don’t find me!
The sound of heavy footsteps, crashes of pots and pans along with streams of curses pour from outside the closet. Evelyn began to tremble; memories of past beats taunting her, giving her a picture of what was to come if he found her.
The closet door swung open, slamming against the wall and blinding Evelyn. A shadow stepped in front of her, blocking the light.
“Mike. N… no,” Evelyn stammered weakly. She held up her hands, blocking her face.
Mike grabbed her by the hair and yanked her from the closet. Throwing her to the floor he loomed over her. Evelyn whimpered helplessly, the tormenting had begun again.
Written by StoryGirl
No comments:
Post a Comment
This is one of the hardest things I've ever attempted. I would welcome your encouragement to keep pushing me to carry on (and overcome my procrastination!). Your comments are more welcome from the bottom of my heart than I can ever say!
As we Rebelutionaries say: Do Hard Things! ;)