Disturbia, ~Damien, darling~

[Skye Rozamond]

It had been two months since the attack, and she was finally out of her casts. All her physical wounds had healed nicely, though the scars were still fairly prominent, and many would never fade completely. The one that gently followed the curve of her face was made even fainter by her makeup, though it was still clear where Damien had traced the trail of her tear with the tip of his knife.

A car crash... that's what she'd told the hospital staff. It seemed plausible enough, and they didn't question her much more during the healing process. She had too much pride to admit to the truth, and she didn't want the humiliation of counseling or any of the other details that would have been involved. The whole situation was bad enough as it was.

So yes, the physical wounds had been healed, but her severely damaged psyche had been sorely neglected. She had few close friends, and it was rare for her to see them, so no one had noticed the shift in her demeanor; there was no one to take care of the frazzled emotional side of her. She was a paranoid wreck. Damien had left her alone for two months, but he'd also let her live. He would be back for her, she knew. The only question was, when?

Still, in the meantime, he didn't know where she lived yet. Her simple apartment was safe enough for the moment. She'd been doing her best to heal her shattered nerves and preserve her own life at the same time. At the moment, she was lying on her couch, sipping chamomile tea. The TV was on, but it was merely providing soft background noise as she read. She'd put down the self-defense books for now in order to read something more like 'junk food'; a murder mystery.

Sure, it was odd that someone fearing for their life should read a book centering on murder, but she'd always enjoyed mysteries. She was good at solving the puzzles, as she had a sort of inside-perspective, and they also gave her tips on what mistakes not to make.

[Damien Worth]

He'd been kind, this time. Damien really believed that he was being nice to Skye, letting her fully heal before attacking again. And no, it wasn't just because he wanted a fresh toy to play with, either. But he had found where she lived after three and a half weeks, and had been watching her in her home ever since. She looked content right now. He almost laughed. It was funny, really, how she thought she was safe in her little apartment. Oh no, she would never be safe from him. Never.

Also, in the time of his absence from her, he'd had ample time to think on his actions of their last encounter. Well, not his usual antics, of course, but why he kissed her. He'd come to a startling conclusion -- he wanted her. Romantically. And he would have her, of course, but in time. For the moment...

He walked up to her front door and (WHAM!) kicked that door in off its hinges. Smirking cruelly, he wandered in. Almost immediately his eyes landed on her. He smiled savagely, "Hello, Skye."






((I know it's short, I'm sorry! I couldn't do much else without serious godmoding.))

[Skye Rozamond]

The way Skye was lying on the sofa allowed her to see the TV if she turned her head to the right, and to look out the window if she looked straight ahead (but not at her book). The window was on the back wall of the apartment, and this put Skye's back to her front door.

It was fortunate that her cup of tea was on the coffee table, because when (WHAM!) the sound of her front door being kicked down rang out like a gunshot, she shot bolt upright and nearly dropped her book.

She turned her head around in time to see the face she hoped never to see again contort into its usual smug grin. "Hello, Skye." he purred.

Now she did drop her book, as she leaped up and spun to face him properly. It was too much to ask for, wasn't it? To hope that she was rid of him? She tensed her body, preparing to try to fight her way out this time. She cursed herself silently for not having a knife within reach, and was trying to both anticipate his next move and figure out how to get over to the kitchen and sneak out a chopping knife or something before he got to her. It was a shame the good killing knives were in her bedroom; she'd never make it in there.

[Damien Worth]

Keeping his eyes trained on her the whole time, he shifted and leaped over to her, landing directly in front of her. He quickly shifted back and grabbed her, before she had time to react. While holding her to him in such a way that she couldn't move, he threw both of them to the ground over the little coffee table, in a direction away from the bedroom. He, of course, made sure she landed first, on bottom. He smiled down at her before leaning down to gently kiss her lips.

Pulling back up to look at her, he said conversationally, " You know, while I was letting you heal, I had an epiphany." He paused for dramatic effect before smiling his predator smile, "I love you."

[Skye Rozamond]

The way he shifted and leaped across the room to her was incredibly fast and graceful, even to her trained assassin eyes. It was over before she could blink; he'd shifted back and pounced, throwing them both to the ground. She wondered how long he'd toy with her this time, and if this was the end, while he smiled down at her and forced a gentle kiss on her.

"You know, while I was letting you heal, I had an epiphany," he said, as if this was having a casual chat between friends. "I love you."

It took a moment for that to sink in. He meant he loved her as a toy, as a plaything, as something to torment, right? But no, he was specific with his words; he did not sugar-coat anything. 'while I was letting you heal', he'd said.

She wasn't suffocating, but she was struggling to breathe comfortably under his weight. This monster didn't know what love was! What the hell was going on here? She squirmed under the pressure, being pressed uncomfortably to the floor, but it was useless. "What?!" she managed to gasp out, shock and confusion overriding fear for the moment.

[Damien Worth]

As he observed her taking it all in, he reveled in the shock, confusion, and mild horror slowly appearing on her face.

"What?!"

He grinned savagely. "You know what I said, darling," His twisted grin widened as she cringed at the pet name, "Don't make me repeat myself." He ended with a threat. As he held her there, ignoring her squirming, he watched her face. That was when he noticed that, under some kind of something to cover-up, the line that he had carved into her face was still there. He couldn't help it; he laughed, tracing it gently with one hand. "You've healed nicely, I see." Then, to see her get upset, "I've been watching you since you left that night." He smirked.

Of course, he couldn't let her rest for too much longer. Making sure she stayed pinned down, he pulled out his knife. Holding her head still with one hand (his body pressing down on her so she not only struggled to breathe, but she couldn't move), he pulled out his knife with the other and re-traced that two-month old trail down her face. "We can't let that heal, now, can we?" He purred like a dangerous jaguar.

With the same knife, he cut her shirt and bra off. He smiled as her breath hitched and she struggled more ferociously. Gently, enough to make her bleed but not to mutilate her, he cut into her left breast. Then, like the sick freak he was, he bent down and licked the blood away.

[Skye Rozamond]

She endured the taunting, even as he traced her scar and informed her he'd been watching her; even when he pulled out the same knife that had made the scar in the first place and retraced it into her skin. Her skin crawled and her stomach turned as he slid his attention and the knife down to her shirt, deftly cutting through all the cloth covering her torso. Involuntarily, she took air in sharply and squirmed, trying to steel herself for whatever would come next. Despite his claims of 'love,' she knew it would either be more deep knife-wounds, or that her pants were coming off next. He took her by surprise when, instead, he made a delicate cut (that still hurt like a bitch) on her breast.

This deviation from the usual was enough to wake her from her fear-induced-paralysis, and as he started to lick the blood away, her eyes darted around the room. The nearly empty coffee mug she'd been drinking tea out of was within arms reach, and while he was distracted, she snatched it up by the handle. It was a serious piece of ceramic; probably a quarter inch thick on the base, and heavy. She cracked him over the head with it, the bottom of the mug hitting him squarely on the forehead, and then shoved him back and rolled. With a quick spring, she was on her feet and running for the door. A form-fitting jacket had been conveniently hung by the door and she grabbed it on her way out, realizing that she was naked from the waist up. She did not, however, take the time to attempt to dress while running. As she sprinted down the apartment's hallway, her mind scrambled to form a full escape plan.

[Damien Worth]

"Fuck!" She had hit him in the head with a heavy mug, and now there was hot tea in his eyes. He wiped it out of his eyes, pissed. She was going to pay for that. He looked up from where he was to see her running for it. He'd catch her; he was fast. He saw her grab a jacket and decided that he needed to go after her, now.

He chased her down. It took longer than normal because he didn't shift, but he finally caught up with her. He grabbed her around the waist from behind, yanking her back into his form. "Put the jacket on," He commanded.

When she did, he put his hand over her mouth and dragged her back to the apartment, locking the door with one hand behind them. "You're going to pay for that, you know." She looked torn between angry and scared. He shoved her into a nearby wall and pushed himself against her, kissing her.

"I know you don't believe me, Skye, but I really do love you. I just have unorthodox ways of showing it," he grinned. He shifted his hand into a paw with extended claws and maneuvered it under the jacket so he could scratch her stomach. He pulled back and shifted his hand back, blood under his fingernails. He sucked at them, trying to get the blood.


((Sorry about the godmode))