December 4, 2000
Sequel to 'Have You Ever...'
"Stay still," the first woman snapped as she carefully applied the butterfly stitch to the second woman's forehead.
"I am," growled the second, fidgeting.
Doce Behr sighed, pulling away from her head, light brown eyes staring down into the large dark hazel eyes of her sister. "Dare I ask what you did to anger him this time?" she asked softly, one would even say maternally.
"Nothing," mumbled Jack, crossing her arms under her chest and looking over her sister's shoulder stubbornly.
"Whatever," Doce sighed. "Jacqueline..." she began.
"It's 'Jack'," the seventeen-year-old snapped. "Why can't you ever call me 'Jack' like everyone else?"
"Jack..." Doce began again. "You can't keep provoking him, you know that. One of these days he might *kill* you!"
"Not if I kill him first," the dark haired girl growled, returning her look to the door.
As if on cue, it opened, admitting a smaller woman, ebony waves cropped short, framing her face but failing to brush her shoulders, onyx eyes darting over the woman on the bed-table quickly, taking in the other woman's state. Dark painted lips curved.
"Don't you have anything better to do than provoke Val?" she asked, closing the door behind her with a tiny <<click>> and leaning back against it.
"Don't you have anything better to do than provoke me?" Jack shot back, flicking her head, effectively sending her dark reddish-brown hair over one shoulder, away from her face. An ugly, yellowish-purple bruise was already starting to form over one cheek.
"Actually, yes." The third young woman smirked at her 'little' sister. "I've just returned from the Floridian Peninsula," the nineteen-year-old replied calmly. "Perhaps you would be interested in who I was there to met?" One dark brow arched, dark lips continued to smirk.
Jack's mind raced. Quickly, she jumped down from the bed-table, her boots clanking against the linoleum, startling Doce. She barely winced as the descent jarred her thigh and hip, pain shooting down her entire length. She stood up straight, her high heels adding to her already towering height above her sister.
"Really?" she said, equally as calm. "It wouldn't have anything to do with that file you promised me a month ago you'd be into... would it?" Jack's large hazel-green eyes flashed.
Ochenta Behr smiled, white teeth flashing. "We should have it by the end of the week."
Jack nodded, her own lips twitching with a smile. "Good, good... and then..." she said, her eyes meeting her sister's. "And then he shall pay."
The tall young woman almost made it out of the room, but a hand on her arm stopped her. "What happened?" Nita asked softly.
A frown stole the mirth from her sister's face. "He went after Carina," the girl said before slipping out the door.
Aim.
Fire.
Aim.
Fire.
Aim.
"You know, it would probably be more therapeutic if you just put a picture up there of his head."
Fire.
Jack lowered the weapon, reaching for another clip. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she replied curtly.
"Oh yeah?" the strawberry blonde replied, stepping up close and tapping the girl's side.
Pain flared in those hazel eyes as Jack glared down at her sister.
"You're favoring it," Blaire said calmly, going over to a chair and plopping down into it. "You can't keep it up, Jack. He'll kill you one of these days."
The girl turned, fired off three more shots, before turning around and dropping the gun to her side like a dead weight. She didn't say a word. She swayed, before falling heavily against the wall. "You think I don't know that?" she whispered finally.
She looked up from the ground, meeting her sister's yellow-green-grey eyes. "You think I don't know that, Blaire?" she hissed, tears burning her own eyes. "But what the fuck am I supposed to do?" She whirled, three more shots ringing out through the air.
"I hate him," her voice cracked. "I hate him, and I wish he was dead. I hate all of them." Her shoulders rocked as she slowly slid to the floor, sobs tearing through her young body. "I wish they were all dead..."
He was seething, though he didn't let the others know it. The dinner table was deathly silent. Even the child's normal prattle was oppressed by the heavy mood. The whole idea of family meals was highly over-rated.
"Pass me the salad, please," Kat said, breaking the silence.
"Isn't that you're third bowl?" Blaire quipped as Devenley passed the salad bowl.
"It's salad. It's good for you," Kat snapped.
"Like that would stop you," Carina giggled.
"A food shortage throughout the colonies wouldn't stop her," Nita chimed, snatching up the salad bowl for herself before it could get to Kat.
"Hey! Don't take all of it!" Kat keeled, reaching over the table for the bowl.
"Will you behave yourselves!" Valdeon snapped, his control snapping along with it.
Six deadly glares turned on him; he met each with as good as he got. They couldn't intimidate him. He was older, he was stronger, and he was more powerful than any of them. "Dinner's over," he growled.
The room was silent for several seconds... and then chairs began scraping against the wooden floor as the girls began filing out.
"Jacqueline," Val growled softly, effectively stopping the girl's exit. She turned and glared at him as the door closed softly behind her last sister. He pushed his chair back and rose, calmly covering the space between them. When he stood before her, his hand shot out, his fingers digging into her thigh.
She cried out, at once surprised and agonized. Her knee gave out and she would have fallen to the floor if he hadn't pushed her, careening her into the wall. Her breath left her in a cough. Before she could take another, her face was slammed back, her cheek darkening and stinging. A hand snaked into her hair, yanking down hard, forcing her face up as each hair follicle screamed in protest.
"Don't you *ever* interfere with me again," he hissed, pressing her back into the wall. "Do you understand me?"
"Go to hell," she gasped, crying out as her head pounded into the wall.
His mouth came down over hers, cruel, punishing; his tongue thrusting into her mouth making her gag. Her reaction was immediate.
She shut down.
She receded to that little corner of her mind that no one could touch as her body was thrown to the floor and used as a human punching bag. A rag doll.
She just closed down.
End of Part 6: The Devil's Advocate
Andrea Readwolf
Please send comments to: andrea_readwolf@hotmail.com