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Post  DIDNEY WORL Mon May 30, 2011 7:36 pm

It had been too long since she'd been in a church. She remembered her first communion, but... After that she seemed to have lost touch. She would attend, but wouldn't really be there.

Now, in light of certain events... She felt it was time to pay the Old Man a visit. It wasn't a catholic church. He wouldnt mind, probably.

Dusted light poured through the dirty stained glass windows, an eerie metaphor for her spirituality at the moment. She always felt as if these people who filed in were idiots, sucked in by the views of a crowd (such idiots would be arriving soon, it wasn't far from service time)... But they were happy. That woman Güzäl always wore the orthodox cross. She seemed happy. Itakshir believed in... Well, he believed in something. He was happy-- extremely so. So why couldn't she believe in all of it? Was it because she didn't want to think that she wasn't in control of her own life, that she couldn't make her own decisions?

"Look where that's gotten me." She mumbled aloud, and the lord responded with her echo. She pulled out a heavily used bible from the pew in front of her and cracked it open-- that's why she couldn't believe, she reminded herself. Heaven didn't tale people like her.

You brood of vipers, how can you who are evil say anything good? For out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks.

She could try to be a good person; she could try with all she had. But... In the end, she laughed to herself gravely, looking down at her too-big borrowed dress above her custom made sparkling shoes, her pride was all she had left now. Her pride, like the shoes, was all she could stand on, and all she had to her name. To give that up for the sake of being good would leave her with nothing. Not even the most pious would wish to be nothing-- no, they were always something. Prideful in their own ways. But, maybe she was just trying to trick herself. Trick herself into being happy, just like Itakshir-- or so she thought. So maybe she could do as he did in that church for a while.

"I don't expect you to listen." She said to nothing, as she folded her hands, bowed her head, and tried. Not pray... Only try.
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Post  MOSSAD TRAINED SHARK Mon May 30, 2011 8:44 pm

Auguste had always hated Protestants. Well, no, not always. Not for that brief moment of rebellion where he had converted to the protestant religion. But that was so long ago...and it ended badly, anyways. Very badly. The memories were blurry, but Auguste remembered that they were painful. After that, he was sure to hate Protestants.

But here he was at a Protestant Church. Why? Well, it was a church.

When was the last time Auguste had been at Church? Not since he was in France. They were on the road all the time here, but each time, Auguste had failed to see the Church of his religion. The Frenchman had hired a priest for the carnival, but visiting a priest without a church was not the same as visiting a church with a priest. When not in the holy realm of a church... Auguste felt distanced from God.

So maybe he could visit a Church without a priest? Though the line to God was skewered through the Protestant connection, the Church did have a cross on it. There were bibles inside. God had to be somewhere.

So the man opened those heavy doors. He came at a time when he expected no one, but somebody was here? Maybe he should leave...

But when he focused on the other body, he was completely taken aback. That hair-...those curls...He was looking at Franze. Franze...why would Franze be here? How many arguments on religion had led Auguste to leave that Franze was something as low as an atheist? She wouldn't be here. Even if she was religious, she was a Catholic.

No.... This wasn't Franze.

He sat down in the pew behind her.

God was telling Auguste something. He had placed this image here, someone for Auguste to repent to. This image, she was in a worse shape than she ever had been. It was but a symbol of Auguste's sins. He knew they were destroying himself, but now, they had destroyed another human being. This tattered being represented both of those destroyed lives.

"Franze..." he whispered, picking up one of the bibles. There was none of his fake smiles on his face, nothing remained but a genuine look of concern. Franze had never seen that look. And he paused, was God going to acknowledge this sinner?

((ALREADY HAVE A RELIGIOUS TOPIC GOING, W/E?))
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Post  DIDNEY WORL Mon May 30, 2011 8:56 pm

She had run through all the Latin in her head-- but what good wod it do if she didn't know what it meant? The sign of the cross felt alien and unnatural over her. Perhaps she should have just gone away to waste away in a convent. Then she wouldn't doubt herself so much. It was the price one had to pay to feel in control. One could be angry at god as the subjects are angry at their king-- but when one had no king, who was to blame, then?

"Franze..."

That voice-- there was someone to blame. She did have a king-- or, she used to. Nbut he was the farthest thing from a god there could be. And she wanted nothing to do with him. She didn't even want to acknowledge his presence. She just stared down at the words in the book until they ceased to become words and morphed into meaningless scribbles. "I don't want you here." She said, not turning. "Leave."
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Post  MOSSAD TRAINED SHARK Mon May 30, 2011 9:17 pm

He was taken aback by those words. They were so...so genuine...like something Franze would say. Had Auguste offended God the same way he had offended Franze? He hoped not, but the evidence agreed that it was true. These were God's words? But he was unsure if he was supposed to treat this body as Franze, or as God.

"I could not find any Catholic Churches...everywhere we stopped, I could not. So I hope you are not too angry about having to appear in a place like this." he began his words. He was also unsure if he should look at the girl, or close his eyes. God probably would not have taken this form, if he expected Auguste to close his eyes.

"I hope you're not too angry about all I've done..." he whispered. He could not charm God over with a smile, or a kiss, or some flattering lies as he could to women. God only ever wanted the truth. If there was one thing Auguste was terrible at... It was telling the truth.

"I understand why you're here like this..." he paused, taking a deep and long breath. "You're here to represent my Lust...my Pride...my Greed..." another pause. "even my Wrath..." The otherwise composed Auguste had gone so far as to physically abuse this woman before... "They drive me away from you...and My Lord..." he held on to the bible.

"I'm sorry..."
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Post  DIDNEY WORL Tue May 31, 2011 6:50 pm

Who did he think she was, exactly? She listened for a while and came to the conclusion-- he was high on his own drama.

Finally she turned to face him. "You really think any god would waste his time speaking to you?" She stood. "you shouldn't be allowed to think so highly of yourself. Pig."

Then she moved to another pew. If she did believe in a god... She just wished he would crack open the earth so Satan could swallow her former "king" whole. "Now leave me alone. You've done enough."

She tried to keep a clear head and an apathetic face... But it was proving difficult. Between their history and how it all ended, seeing him at all was a shock to the core.

((Sooo short, I'm sorry ): ))
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Post  MOSSAD TRAINED SHARK Tue May 31, 2011 8:10 pm

Who was this being he was talking to, exactly? When she left, he merely stared at her, completely perplexed at this situation. Would God, Auguste's dear and benevolent God speak to someone in such a way? Probably not. Would God ever speak to Auguste like that? ...Well, for all Auguste had done, it seemed probable.

"My Lord..." Auguste tentatively got up to follow Franze to her pew. Once there, he suddenly dropped to the ground, in a low and humble bow. "My Lord, I know I am nothing compared to you. I am but a humble servant! And I apologize, I apologize if I ever falsely acted to be above you. I'm not." And he glanced back up at Franze. He seemed to offend God just as much as he had offended her.

"Even the greatest King must succumb to you... For you are above us all." And he grabbed Franze's hand. Here he was, somehow, speaking like he was below her. Had he ever imagined he would be doing this to the image of that monstrous Franze? Never. But here he was. "All the women in the world, they mean nothing to me. You, My Lord, are the only being that matters to me. My love for you knows no bounds."

((It's cool. B) /also kind of short))
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Post  DIDNEY WORL Tue May 31, 2011 8:34 pm

Was he going insane? It could be possible. She just stared at him in disbelief for a while. This couldn't be the same person that had treated her with no more respect than one would a paper bag just a month before.

...Which was why she was growing ever more suspicious that this wasn't real, but just more manipulation. But... If that was the case, he would have never even thrown himself at her feet. He really did believe she was some sort of seraphim of repentance. She had in her hands the chance-- the chance to be good or the chance to feed her pride. Following the pattern, she chose the latter.

She stood, and let the light from the stained glass behind her give her some sort of heavenly aura. Then she took her right foot and stepped on his hands. Hard. "This woman you see before you," She began, trying to imitate whAt she had read as a child from the book she had previously held. "Was innocent-- a sad, beautiful woman who only wanted love. You trapped her in your lies and then dropped her. Where is she now? Dead by the side of the road after being taken by other men." She ground her foot into his knuckles even more. "And who sent her away? It was not I; it was not fate; it was you. You and your megalomanaical delusions. Blood is on your hands." She had to stop herself lest she get emotional over her anger. "And it is never washed away."

This time she waited to see his response-- she waited to see him suffer for what he did (but really, hadn't she let herself fall into his traps? This wasn't the time to debate it.).
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Post  MOSSAD TRAINED SHARK Tue May 31, 2011 10:11 pm

He waited for forgiveness. He waited for some reassurance, reassurance that he would be able to pass on to heaven, reassurance his sins were not so terrible, reassurance that his nightmares would be gone, reassurance that he was a child of God. He did not get anything, except for a sudden horrible pain in his hands. The man's eye's opened, he looked to his God. Auguste was horrified. His face twisted in pain. Wasn't his God supposed to be benevolent? Wasn't his God supposed to forgive?

But he had killed Franze? He heard the crack of his knuckles, the distinct breaking noise in his now mutilated fingers. He couldn't respond really to either of these difficult realities. The pain continued to make itself clear. But for Franze's death... Did he feel pain and regret...? Maybe? He was shocked for sure, but the emotions that ran through him constituted more than shock. She had died for him, just like how the freak's died for him. They had all died for his sins.

But Auguste knew, that it was also the fault of their own sins. Franze was selfish, she was greedy, and proud. She had tried to assure dominance, dominance that she did not deserve. She wanted to take Auguste's place in the world. Competition was competition, Franze really had to be crushed.

"My Lord, I never meant to destroy an innocent... Our entire existence together, it was an existence of sin. She loved me in the same way that I loved her. We loved the power each other held- and the sex we could each perform. Once I took her power from her, my love was gone. She offered marriage, one of the most sacred sacraments, but I rejected it... I gave her my sins... We shared each other's sins... I didn't want to live like that anymore. I rejected her to reject my sins. If there is blood on my hands, I'm sorry... What do you say to the blood on Catherine de' Medici's hands? She was only getting rid of the sins of her nation. I was doing the same for myself." the words all came out so smoothly for a man with breaking fingers before him. He had gone back to the old Auguste. The man could not even tell a truth to God. He knelled down, the pain finally so visible in his face.

How he wanted to call stop, but Auguste knew he must take it, he was being tested.
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Post  DIDNEY WORL Wed Jun 01, 2011 6:55 pm

Her face twisted in disgust with every word he pleaded with. A part of her wanted to take her bloodied heel to his skull... because the other half knew it was true. But that wasn't her anymore, was it? She didn't want it to be, at any rate. And she certainly wouldn't be talked about in such a way by the likes of him. And he was his old self again. To someone he thought was a deity. Disgusting.

Before she knew it, tears were stinging at the edges of her eyes and her nose burned with frustration. She shouldn't have been like this if she was just angry. Maybe seeing him try and make excuses for himself and justify her 'death', was like seeing a mirror of her own misdeeds. She hadn't told any of the people who watched over her currently how she'd been previously. They would have to know at some point. They would hear it from somewhere. There was no real hiding who she knew she really was... but she would try her best. And he wasn't even making an attempt. She released his hand as a few tears spilled over her powdered cheeks. Her delicate hands shook at her sides in fists; the holy act darkened to something much more mortal.

"No...!" She spat back, kicking him in the side as hard as she could (which, wasn't really forceful), and said with choked back tears and venom, "I... I was the good...! It was you... it was you..."
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Post  MOSSAD TRAINED SHARK Wed Jun 01, 2011 8:12 pm

Blood was on his hands now. His perfect hands now held gashes on them, where the skin had peeled off due to the friction of her shoes, or the force of her heel. The fingers twisted in ways that they had never twisted, under her shoes. If this was Franze, he could easily shove the girl off... But Auguste could never do that to God. His eyes could not focus on God, as they were too busy confronting the pain that overcame him. He tried to stare at Him, but he was too far struck in the mortal world, too far struck on himself.

And just then, some divine judgement had decided to let Auguste go. The weight was lifted off his hands. His eyes shifted upwards, to express his undying gratitude-

Until the strong weight was in his side. It was not even a strong kick, but that did not mean it wasn't painful or shocking. The blunt, pressurized force of her shoe was too much. The wind was knocked out of him, as he bowed over. He reached his broken hands to the new source of pain, only to find that his pain was even intensified as he bent his fingers. Blood, blood in the shape of his hands were pressed onto his shirt. He tugged his hands away, and then in absolute horror, went to stare at his God.

And his God was crying? Crying?! He saw the emotions that pulsed through his God's body. He heard that crack in the voice- something that could only be produced through mortal feelings. He witnessed the tears. They only dripped towards the Earth. The ground of this church was stained with Mortal blood and Godly emotions... Godly emotions?

Auguste's expression changed. His eyes were no longer asking for forgiveness, now, they were asking for something else, mortal revenge.

This was not God.

No, this was the Devil herself. Franze.

The man rose up, slowly and cautiously. No quick movements seemed possibly, but out of the blue, a quick movement did arise. His shoulder and head thrust into the small, corseted curve of her waist. There was no doubt that he could inflict a world of pain onto this small women. Auguste, though a lean man, must have weighed about twice her weight. She was strong when she was God.

But now, this God had fallen. She had entered the world of mortals. Auguste was King. He was in charge of this world, and again, in charge of this girl.

His shoe had the chance now, to press onto her arm. He couldn't hold her attention with his hands, so now the weight of his body had to pin her down. He hoped she was in pain. She deserved it. She deserved pain, she deserved torment, she deserved the wrath of God and Kings alike.

Auguste's hands, he hung them over the girl. Blood dripped down on to her face.

"Never parade as my God, again." he spit out. "It's disgusting. You, Franze, you're disgusting. To think you're innocent...After all you've done to me. You tried to use that prospect of marriage to destroy me, Franze. You were the one who sought to tear my soul apart. You deserve to carry the weight of my sins." He could only stare at this girl in complete disgust. She did not even understand what she had done to him. She knew of the nightmares that devoured his mind...Did she know that she invoked them? She thought herself to be innocent.

His foot removed itself from her fragile bones. A glare that only pure hatred could produce was directed to her.

"This blood on my hands....You did this to me, Franze..." So many emotions could be sensed in his voice, Auguste sounded like a different person. He shook his hands at her again. More blood splattered onto her 'innocent' form. The words made sense literally... But they were not to be taken that way. Franze... and this whole carnival had made him a different man.

The voice died to a whisper. "You did this to me"

((TL;DR, SORRY, I KEEP MAKING SUPER LONG POSTS. :l))
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Post  DIDNEY WORL Wed Jun 01, 2011 9:30 pm

It was a mistake to lose her composure. An enormous mistake. The mark on her arm from before had gone away, but she shouldn't have forgotten it. Too late.

The air was knocked out of her already weak lungs, and sent them into a spasm as she choked for air under the restricting wasp waist. She tried desperately to think of some strategy to regain her authority, but her head cracked against the ground and her mind was only saturated with throbbing pain. She could barely make a sound as he stepped on her arm.

"What... what did I ever do to you...?!" She wheezed. "Love you? Trust you?" She had to pause to cough to get her lungs working again. "You came and took everything... everything from me--" her voice was fighting to overcome sobbing and shortness of breath now. She wasn't only thinking about her possessions, no. Her freewill had gone, her self-worth had gone... all of it he just absorbed into himself.

She spent a while sobbing after he released her arm, then, began to laugh shakily, a sorrowful, spiteful laugh. "I realized... that I was nothing to you... still, I wanted to marry you..." A sobbing laugh broke up the rhetoric. "to see you someday die like the animal you are...!"
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Post  MOSSAD TRAINED SHARK Wed Jun 01, 2011 10:12 pm

She was a pathetic, crying, almost insane mess. Her words nor her tears could even earn a drop of sympathy from her former lover. No matter how he looked at her, he could only see her in the worst possible light. Even the light of stained glass brought no beauty to her. She was a thoroughly ugly human being, internally and externally. Auguste hated her. With all his heart, he hated her.

"You did this all to yourself, and you damn well deserved it," He spit out bitterly, sitting down next to her. With a sigh he glanced at his melodramatic (former) bitch. She needed to calm down, as he did have a favour to be asked of this despised woman.

"You never really loved me. Even when you were happier...you still did all you could to belittle me. You always wanted to be in charge. You always thought that you knew better than me, because you were more 'experienced than me,' or some shit like that. You were afraid of me, because I was too powerful. So you forced me to become like this! You made me hurt you like I did, because you wanted to destroy me!" He scoffed, spitting into the face of the woman.

"All along you did just want to see my dead. My nightmares, they were all just about that. You're going to hell, so you drag me with you..." The man began looking at his fingers, it was almost difficult to do. The pain felt even stronger when he did so. He had to turn away.

"We'll be in hell together now, so do not worry."
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Post  DIDNEY WORL Thu Jun 02, 2011 8:14 pm

She was not going to take this anymore.

"You're going to hell alone," She muttered, stepping to her feet and straightening herself up. "I don't believe in it."

It was true; she'd seen how an immoral existence wreaked despair on a living life... there was no possibility of an afterlife that was worse. Or better. A life was what one made of it-- she had learned that much in the last few weeks. Giving it to someone else was like losing it. But sharing it... that was okay. She would have to see. Oddly, this visit and subsequent physical fight had brought new light to her mind, and she was glad for it. He would rot in his own hell. But she... she would make her life heaven.

He was going to have no time to ask her a favor; she was already beginning to walk (still wheezing a bit) away. And she woud be damned if she turned around again. For him or the cross.
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Post  MOSSAD TRAINED SHARK Fri Jun 03, 2011 6:30 pm

She just got up. Again, she just left him, left him there to suffer. Did she have no pity? Did she own even the slightest grace of compassion? No, evident how she treated her former 'lover', she lacked any of the finesses of humanity. He stumbled up after her.

“Franze!” Auguste's voice, authoritative and loud filled the room. His footsteps imitated that sound, as he, though feeling weak, picked up pace. If she was going to be so unaffected by his charm from now on, then he wasn't going to treat her like a woman anymore.

Anyways, she was less than that.

“Franze!” His bloody hand was on her arm, bending as closely as it could into a grip. His teeth clenched up much more than his hand could. Scrapping the pain away from his face, he glared at Franze.

“Take me back to the carnival...No- or a hospital...Give me a ride.” What incentive would this heartless woman have for doing that? Well, he was stronger than her. That was his leverage for everything.
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Post  DIDNEY WORL Thu Jun 16, 2011 10:13 pm

She was walking as fast as she could. Not because she feared him, but because she feared again falling for the memory of him. As much as she exuded superiority, she lacked any internal integrity-- or, any at the moment. She was trying to get it back, but she had no idea where it had gone or how it had ever gotten there in the first place. You loved him but he lied. Was it really still past tense? Yes. It had to be.

Her thoughts couldn't speed her up, however, and her arm was caught in his bloody, painful grip.

Now she feared him. "Fine." She tried to retain strength in her voice. She just continued to walk, figuring he wouldn't relinquish his grip until she reached the car. "Get in and stay quiet." She sat in the car seat, not even bothering with waiting for him to open her door. Forget not knowing about chivalry, he never had any to begin with. He took the seat Itakshir usually sat in then; the man who smelled like the sea and freedom was replaced by the familiar smell of heavy cologne and wine.

And what would she tell him? It wasn't as if he was committed to her, at all, or that she had somehow committed infidelity by getting into a car with a former lover, it was the fact that she had to recognize that, for whatever reason, she wasn't over him. She was too weak to get over a disgusting scumbag whose only claim to her heart was meaningless nights and an extensive vocabulary. It made her sick. Was she sick? She certainly felt like it.

Nervosly runnig a hand through her hair, she avoided looking at him or acknowledging him altogether as she looked for a way to get into the town.
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Post  MOSSAD TRAINED SHARK Thu Jun 16, 2011 11:00 pm

It was very difficult for him to open the car door, but by taking much longer than usual he did it, he entered in the seat beside Franze. The atmosphere was notably tense. Dealing with Exes.... those were always tense situations. Auguste had enough Exes to know that it did not depend on the person or the intimacy of the relationship. It would always be tense.

His relationship with Franze was probably one of his worst... No, no, actually, probably the worst. Auguste held no emotional attachments to the girl, which would lead one to think the break up would be easy. But here he was now, in the passenger seat of her car- with broken hands given to him by her, being driven somewhere by her. It was a messy break up.

He shifted glances at her, ever so often. It was embarassing, this whole situation, really. She, at the moment, seemed almost the man in the relationship. And in this situation, he didn't know what to say, really. He felt for once in his life... awkward... He never felt awkward. Only Franze would make him like this. He stared at her.

"I don't make very many mistakes, you know, Franze... We were a mistake..." he began, alarmingly quiet and almost unsure. "Why did you say you wanted to marry me?" He asked quickly, for some reason, that question would not leave his mind. For some reason... he thought so much about it... For some reason, it produced so much fear inside of him.

"Why would you ever say that....?"
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Post  DIDNEY WORL Thu Jun 16, 2011 11:30 pm

She hadn't expected her voice to leave her so choked up and full of emotion when she finally had the courage to answer. No sense in hiding the humiliating truth from him then, she would never see him again, or at least she hoped.

"Because I loved you," She stifled a small sob, willing the tears to stay collected in her eyes. "That's what people do, when they're in love."

Admittedly, she had first asked him because she wanted for him to prove that he loved her at all in return. He didn't. So she tried not to love him. And finally had to get away, to do just that. She couldn't say, really, why she did. Or used to. Or did love him. Maybe because he was as ruined as she was.

Then again, maybe there was hope for her, she wouldn't forever remain damaged. She just needed some time off from who she thought she was. It was like re-learning to walk.
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Post  MOSSAD TRAINED SHARK Fri Jun 17, 2011 10:24 am

He didn't know how to respond. Suddenly, and for some strange reason, all Auguste knew how to do was stare. Again, that awkward feeling felt sour in his stomach, and then it was like he vomited that feeling all over the car.

Franze had told him that she loved him before. Just like how he told Franze that he had loved her before. Just like how he told Crina, or those other whores that he loved them. He never did. The way he used love was so devoid of emotions. To him, love was what you said to get sex from a girl. These types of emotions, the ones overwhelming Franze right now, were never a part of the love he knew. He had had emotional confessions before... but not like this. These emotions, this love, it was so very humbling. When Franze said she was in love...He suddenly knew, she was not lying.

“Marrying you terrified me...” A deep breath, “I never loved you...I could never love you...” he confessed. It must have been obvious, but he felt the need to say it anyways. It was like he was confessing to Emiliano, again. Guilt was building up inside of him. Guilt for what he did to someone he hated...? Didn't she deserve this? Where was the schadenfreude he was supposed to feel? It wasn't there.

“Don't love me...Franze...” He took a long pause, thinking of some response to her. Talking was normally so easy. Why wasn't it now? “I...It was a mistake to string you along...” A mistake, dangerous on both ends. Their relationship was nothing but destructive. His lies ruined her... and they ruined himself...

And turning away, the proud man mouthed a very quiet, shameful and relieving “Sorry...”
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Post  DIDNEY WORL Fri Jun 17, 2011 11:18 am

She knew it was true, she knew it had been true all along. So why did it feel so shattering? He requested her not to love him? "Couldn't you have said that before?" She managed to choke out, finally looking towards him as the tears finally began to roll off her cheeks.

If only he could've said that i the beginning-- it wasn't something she was proud of, but she could sleep with someone without loving them. But him saying he loved her made her love him-- no one had ever said so before. And until someone else did, said they loved her, proved to her she was worth something (however selfish that sounded) she would always love him, no matter how much she hated it.

Finally pulling up to the sidewalk next to a private practice, she quickly rubbed the tears into her skin and away. "Go," She muttered, not knowing if she would stay to wait for him.
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Post  MOSSAD TRAINED SHARK Fri Jun 17, 2011 12:01 pm

"I- I didn't know you loved-... I didn't realize.... how much the word meant to you..." was all that faltered out of his mouth. It was a lame excuse. He had at first just used the word to get sex from her... Then... the word had evolved to something of a leash. He could use it to chain her back, to have complete control over her. Living with her, for some reason, he always felt on edge, for some reason, he was always about to fall out of control. When with her, he needed that sense of control and security. So he told her again and again that he loved her. He did it for himself, he did it for control.

He knew she was crying, but he didn't want to look at her. It was rare for him to reject women- it was rare for him to reject love. His religion rarely played a part in his sex life, but now it did. He felt guilty... sinful even... Franze was right, the blood was on his hands.

"....Can you open my door...?" He asked, raising up his distorted hands. It was difficult for him. He was supposed to be the one opening her door... Not the other way around. It was too much, he assumed, to ask for her to wait for him once he was done. He didn't really want to be in a car with her anymore.
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Post  DIDNEY WORL Fri Jun 17, 2011 12:28 pm

She just shook her head at his excuses. It didn't mean anything to her anymore-- he could have been lying again for all she knew. She went to get his door, if only not to be in the car with him, and with difficulty opened the heavy door on his side. "Just stay away from me."

When he exited she closed it again and waited until he would get inside, just to make sure she'd seen enough of him that it would be their last meeting.

What was she going to do about the bruise that would show up from being pushed down, the blood on her sleeves from his hand on the dress she was given? It would all be obvious. She dressed in front of the other women, and if she stopped wearing the dress, people would notice. She should never even have spoken to Auguste.
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