It was late evening, the television had been off all night, the stereo on low. Sebastion sat on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, his head laid back. It was dark in his apartment, never having turned on a light when the summer sun vanished behind the skyline. She had stolen all his thoughts. Christina was her name. He loved her name, and her. And she was another man's wife. But he could not, no matter what he did, force her from his mind. Finally, tonight, he succumbed to her cranial intrusion and let her roam freely throughout his mind.
It had all started with that one "peck" at work. Just a friendship kiss. Christina was hurting. Her husband, Joe, had come home drunk again, beat her again. She turned to him at work the next day, looking for some comfort in her otherwise stormy life. They had gone to lunch, talking throughout, touching hands briefly. Sebastion gave what little advice he could, hating her husband for striking her.
`No reason to hit her, or any woman,' he had thought. `Just walk away. Insecure, domineering asshole.'
Then, as they were to part after lunch, she looked at him with those hypnotizing, translucent blue eyes. They were pleading with him, asking him thousands of questions. That's when he pulled her close and held her for just a moment. At the end of the embrace, she kissed him. Quickly, tenderly, on the lips.
Over and over again, he told himself that she was just a friend. A friend going through a tough time right now. She was a female friend, and that was why the kiss. She just needed support. He gave it, and she thanked him with a kiss. Nothing else.
And, until the day before yesterday, he believed it.
He was in his office, working on the latest project. His head was down, studying the menagerie of papers assembled there. He heard someone enter, figured it was a friend since no announcement was made, and finished the current calculation before looking up.
It was her. Christina. Dressed in one of her plain looking dresses; although whatever she wore was no longer plain. She had a strange look on her face. He motioned for her to sit, and she walked to the window. It was then he noticed she was not wearing a bra. Something he had been hoping to see for some time. But it was obvious that something was troubling her. He put her breasts at the back of his mind and joined her.
"What's wrong, Christina?" he said, loving the way her name slid off his tongue. She turned to him, her blue eyes meeting his. They were pleading again, asking him again. He reached to her face and moved the hair away from her cheek.
"It's just been rough. He's been drinking, again. Jealous. Irrational. I just needed to be with someone that I know..," her voice faded and broke. She stepped to him and Sebastion pulled her close, tightly. She felt good next to him. It had been too long. Christina suddenly pulled away.
He let her go, but as she turned in his arms, her breast brushed his hand. She twisted her head and looked at him. Their eyes met again. She turned slightly and placed her breast in his hand. Gently he squeezed it. Her eyes dropped and she backed against him. His hands explored more of her body, her body explored more of him. She pushed her ass against his hardening organ. He pulled her hips to him, grinding himself against her.
She straightened, his hands following her body up until he had a hand on each breast. He brushed aside the hair from her neck, his lips finding skin that was hot and alive. His left hand traced her form to her crotch, and she moaned ever so slightly.
Sebastion relaxed his grip a little. Christina turned around to face him and quietly voiced her fear of getting caught. He nodded in agreement, his body screaming to grab her again.
They both fixed their hair, straightened their clothes, and watched each other from a distance the rest of the day.
And now he wanted her. Alone in his apartment, safely away from her, he wanted her. She had reminded him how long it has been since he had a woman. And she felt so damn good! But Christ! She's married. A rocky marriage, but still married.
Sebastion jumped in the chair when the doorbell rang, not realizing he had been half asleep. After running a hand through his hair and tucking in his shirt, he flicked on a lamp and opened the door.
"Uh, Christina...Hi," his voice reflected his surprise. "What are..."
Then he noticed the swollen eye and the expression on her face.
"Oh God, Christina. Come in. Come in, please." He backed away from the door, allowing her to enter. He pointed to the pile of furniture near the center of his loft apartment. "Can I get you something? Coffee, hot chocolate, water, juice?" He looked at her face again. She had given up. Her husband had broke her. "I don't have anything stronger."
"Coffee would be fine, 'Bas. And to hold your hand. I need to..I didn't want to come..I just needed some..," the tears came fast and hard. Christina sat in the first chair she reached. Sebastion dismissed the coffee and went to her, kneeling down in front of her and taking her hand.
"Are you okay? I mean...I can see the eye." He brought his hand near her swollen and discolored eye. She flinched from reflex.
"Why? Christina...why?"
Her grip tightened on his hand, she placed her other hand on his face. "You can't do anything to him. It would only make matters worse. It'll stop in a few days. It always does."
"Yes I can. I can stop it now." Sebastion took her hand away from his face, holding both her hands in his one. He looked into her eyes. No longer did they dance with life. No longer could he see the flame of passion in them. No longer did they peer into his soul. Now, they just stared, frightened and blank.
"Where is he?"
Tears were still streaming down her face, her left eye now nearly closed. She wanted it to end, for her husband to be gone. She didn't care where; different town, different country, different planet. But to have him and 'Bas fight was unthinkable. She had grown very close to 'Bas, and was terrified of her husband and what he can do.
"No, 'Bas. Leave him alone. Things will be...okay."
Sebastion stood. He knew where they lived. He knew the bars in the area. He would find him. Introduce himself as his wife's guardian angel, then put his .357 in this guy's crotch and pull the trigger.
"Stay here, make yourself at home." Sebastion stood. "There's some hamburger in the 'fridge, use it for that eye. Sorry, I don't have any steak. You deserve steak," and he started to leave.
She reached out for him, "No. Ow!"
Sebastion stopped and turned, staring at her. "What all did he do to you?"
She shook her head. "It's nothing, really."
Sebastion grabbed her hands. "Come," he said and gently helped her from the chair and eased her into the light. He deftly opened her blouse, exposing her slightly sagging breasts and a huge bruise on her right side. She watched him closely with trusting eyes.
As Sebastion looked at her wound, he couldn't stop his eyes from drifting over to her breasts. The light was at the right angle that he could see baby fine hair covering her breasts and chest. It reminded him of peach fuzz, then his mind referenced the size of Christina's breasts, instantly linking the two: Peaches. He mentally slapped himself. Here she is in pain, trusting him for help, and he's making up names for her tits! He looked at the discoloration on her ribs.
The bruise wrapped around from front to back and reached from her armpit to her waist. Her husband had really done a number on her.
"God, Christina...why?" The emotion nearly choked him. He didn't let her answer. The anger he had controlled up to now inflamed into explosive outrage. "Stay here," he ordered, stood, then kissed her on the forehead. "You can stay here as long as you need. I'll be back in a little while." He headed for the door, stopping at the dresser to pull off keys and wallet from the top and a case from the closet.
Christina stared unblinking at the door, trembling, her blouse still open. A voice from the far reaches of her mind began whispering. 'Kill him, 'Bas. Kill him.' She shook her head and closed her blouse. "No," she said to herself, surprised at the sound of her voice. The voice inside her head spoke louder. 'Kill Him 'Bas. Kill Him.' Christina moved around the apartment, trying desperately to force the voice from her head. The volume increased again, `KILL HIM, 'BAS! KILL HIM!' She stopped at the window, pulling her hair hard, and watched as Sebastion drove away. "Kill him 'Bas," she said softly. "Kill him."
Her hands went to her mouth instantly. Did she actually say it? Did she actually wish her husband dead, the man she married three years ago? The man that has broken her arm, fingers, ribs, and now her spirit? Did she tell 'Bas to kill him just now?
Christina turned from the window, searching the vast apartment for something familiar, for 'Bas. She sat down by the window, her back against the wall. The tears returned. Uncontrollable spasms of emotion rocked her delicate frame. In the minutes to come, she would fall into a restless sleep. Nightmares pervading her last escape.
* * *
Sebastion pulled his beat up little car up to the curb with the lights off. He let the engine idle as he scanned the house, her house, their house. No lights were on. No autos parked in the driveway, hers was obviously at his place. "The hunt starts," he said to the silent radio. Pulling away from the curb, he turned the headlights on, rubber squealing on the pavement.
On the drive to the first bar, Sebastion realized he was trembling. But it wasn't fear, it was anger, rage. Why did he have to hit her? WHY?!? Sebastion hit the steering wheel with his hand.
The bar was in sight. He reached to the seat next to him and opened the case, pulling out the revolver. It's weight felt good. He stuffed a major portion of it, muzzle first, into his jacket pocket.
Sebastion cased the parking lot looking for her husband's car. He drove around the lot twice with no luck. The car wasn't here. There were other bars though, and Sebastion headed for number two on the list.
At his fifth stop, Sebastion found his quarry: An older, European sports car, new paint job, new wheels. He parked his clunker on the passenger side of her husband's car.
He glanced inside the car as he walked passed, shifting the revolver to the small of his back. It bit into his spine, but it was hidden.
Sebastion strolled into the bar, quickly surveying the setup before sitting at the bar. He picked a seat that allowed him to view the entire room without much effort or drawing attention. After ordering a drink and having a couple of sips, he spotted her husband. He was near the center of the bar, sitting with one other man and three women. No remorse there.
Sebastion's rage intensified. He thought for a moment he was going to explode. He could feel his face flush. He started to sweat and a familiar, steel taste returned to his mouth. He looked at his watch. Ten PM. Four hours until closing, if her husband stayed that long. Sebastion swallowed hard, then put a few bucks on the bar and walked out.
He could do nothing now, though he wanted to really, really bad. His mind began to race, blurry thoughts and visions flew passed him as he walked across the parking lot to his car. He climbed inside and cracked the windows so they wouldn't fog, then leaned back in the seat. Minutes later he fell into a light doze, his mind turning fantasy into dreams.
"Excuse me, asshole, but you don't know me," Sebastion said.
Joe looked up in mild surprise. "Right dipshit, I don't you. Now get the fuck outta here before I kick your ass," Christina's husband said, then turned back to the redhead.
"I don't think so," Sebastion said, pulling out the revolver and putting the barrel in Joe's ear.
The redhead was the first to scream. Sebastion heard chairs slide across the floor and tip over as people around them quickly moved away.
Joe sat very still, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. "Who the fu..." He swallowed. "Who are you?" he asked.
"Know a woman named, Christina. Course you do. You married her, you asshole. Married her so you could have a full-time maid and punching bag," Sebastion said louder than he needed to, but he wanted the whole bar to hear.
Joe tried desperately to swallow, but all the moisture in his mouth had just emptied into his pants.
"I'm Christina's guardian angel," Sebastion proclaimed. "I'm here to free her from the grips of Hell; from the torture of living with you, and to make this world a better place for us all."
Sebastion then kindly asked those at the table and a few others nearby to move away. He would hate for an innocent bystander to get hit. He waited until the area was clear, then, without another word, he pulled the trigger.
The left side of Joe's head exploded. Skull shrapnel, blood, and pieces of brain and scalp sprayed the next two tables.
Sebastion jerked awake and quickly looked around. Everything was okay. He was still in his car. He had nodded off and...what time was it? He glanced at his watch. Midnight. Two more hours.
Impatiently, he waited in his chilly car, the revolver staying warm in his jacket pocket. The minutes ticked by agonizingly slow while Sebastion watched the stars move across the sky. He thought he would go crazy waiting.
In the cold night, in the dark car, with the sounds of the city just past the fogged windows, his thoughts returned to Christina.
* * *
Christina awoke with a start. Something woke her, some feeling; women's intuition, ESP, something. But it woke her and now she sat by the window, shaking more from fear than the cold. Something terrible has happened, or was about to happen. Christina looked at her watch.
It was one-thirty in the morning. Where was 'Bas? She called his name, her voice echoing in the barren room. No response. She rose and turned on another light. The apartment grew before her, the dim glow barely reaching the far walls, but she could see the entire apartment now. There were no inner walls, no partitions dividing the room, just the placement of furniture to indicate areas. And Sebastion was not there. A knife's edge, cold and sharp, ran up her spine. He was the `feeling' that woke her. She ran out of the apartment.
* * *
Sebastion looked again at his watch. Yep, a whole two minutes had passed this time. It was now six minutes after two. Where was he? Then the door to the bar opened again. Sebastion crouched down, his back and left hip complaining.
It was him. Finally. Sebastion's stomach tightened, then twisted, then rolled over. He felt nauseous and his head began to spin.
Her husband came closer, laughing and grabbing at the redhead. A gentleman, eh? Going to open the door for her, eh? Sebastion watched through his partly fogged windows as they kissed. Her husband had the redhead pressed against his window, her butt at eye level.
Sebastion started to move, wrestling to get up. He moved slow, hopefully easy and quiet, trying not to shake his car. With all the movement from outside though, he had little to worry about.
As he was reaching for the passenger door handle, approaching headlights nearly blinded him. The car stopped behind his, blocking him in. "Shit."
A door slammed. Someone was yelling - a woman. It was Christina. Christina's husband yelled back. Sebastion bailed out of his car on the passenger side, sprawling onto the ground. He stood as if he meant to tumble, just in time to see Christina falling backwards, her husband still moving from the swing. The redhead was no where to be seen.
Christina hit the ground hard, her head striking the pavement with a sickening thud and muffled crack. Sebastion ran to Christina, cradling her in his arms. Her head was bleeding. She was motionless and limp. Sebastion heard a voice, seemingly miles away. It was Joe, her husband. He was screaming at Sebastion, something about leaving his slut of a wife alone. Tears began to run down Sebastion's face, he knew for certain that Christina was dead. Sebastion swore revenge, then gently, very gently, he laid Christina back on the pavement. She stirred slightly, but Sebastion didn't notice.
While Sebastion was rising to face her husband, he glimpsed a blur coming in his direction. Before he realized what it was, her husband's booted foot caught him in the belly, forcing all of the air out of his lungs. Sebastion hit the ground gasping for breath. He could hear her husband laughing.
Sebastion raised himself off the pavement, getting one foot under him before the boot hit him in the face. He fell on Christina, forcing an "Umph" from her.
She's alive! He looked at her, blood running down his face, his head thick, floating. Groggily, she turned her head toward him.
"'Bas...you're...okay..," her voice was faint. Her eyes closed again.
Sebastion pushed himself up, careful not to hurt her. That's when he felt the knife enter his back. It was cold at first, ice cold. Then a moment later it became white-hot, burning clear through him, spreading all over his body. His eyes watered, then blurred, then quit working. Breathing became difficult as the pain grew.
Sebastion was going down again, without ever having pulled his gun. Without freeing Christina. Without winning her love. He laid down beside Christina, reaching for her.
Joe stepped on Sebastion's hand, then grabbed Christina as if she were a bag of rocks and started pulling her across the pavement to his car.
Christina let out a whimper, her eyes barely open, staring at Sebastion, the life quickly draining from her body. Sebastion couldn't hear what her husband was saying, but he knew that he was threatening her by the tone.
Slowly, not to go unnoticed, but because he had no choice, Sebastion reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out the revolver. Summing all the strength he had in him, he aimed at her husband. He prayed for forgiveness, then pulled the trigger. The bullet struck her husband in the back of the head, removing most of his forehead on exit and flipping him forward.
Some minutes later in the ambulance, Sebastion reached across the aisle to Christina and touched her hand. It was all ready growing cold. He closed his eyes, tears streaming down his face.
Rovella is a beautiful woman with a cold heart whom blames herself for an unfortunate old family secret that is literally ruining her life. This secret impedes a gorgeous woman from having happiness in her childhood, and throughout her life. Dark sec
A poignant story about letting go of a narcissist in your life. Have you ever been attacked FULL force by a narcissist? It's the closest thing to being stabbed over and over in the back.
