Alright people,

I am posting my first fic here and it is not a happy dandy fic.
It holds disturbing themes and can offend people. Please be careful and don't read if you are particularly faint hearted or if you can't stand the sight of an actor you love being painted of as someone that can be abusive.

Disclaimer: I do not own any people in this story execpt for Myra Conway and her fictional friends and family. the rest own themselves.
The personalities in this story are fictional and are in no way a true discription of the celebrities mentioned in this story. This is my way of telling a story that often goes unheard.

Do not sue please, I am already broke enough as it is.

Rating: Definetly NC 17, as it holds very intense subject manners such as violence, cruel language and abuse.

Please note: this is an intense story and I have no idea if this is allowed on this board. Please contact me in any way if this story is crossing boundaries that aren't meant to be crossed.
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Prologue


I never was gifted with extraordinary beauty or talent....


I never was the best of the class and I was never voted most popular.
I wasn’t born a genius either, so I can’t compensate my ordinary looks and lack of talent with knowledge that will someday save this world.


But... I was always proud of the way I could protect the ones I love.


To me it didn't matter if they were my friends or whether it was my family. I'd catch a bullet for them, jump off a cliff or run into a fire if that would mean I would be able to keep them safe.


My parents always taught me that I should fight just as hard for the people that weren't able to protect themselves. And I listened. That's the exact reason I took this job. To protect them. To save them.


Right now... I only want to save myself.


There was a time long ago when I was untouchable, no one could bring me down and certainly no one was strong enough to make me quiver in fear.


If the world would fall down, I would be there. In the frontlines. Helping were help was needed, not thinking twice about what could happen to me.


Yes…I most definitely took pride in that.


I took that with me my whole life and used that ability to become the best in my line of work. I studied hard and worked even harder. Not one person became a number. Even now, drowning in darkness, I could tell you all the names of the people that once came to my office asking for help.


And because of what I saw, I promised myself never to have to walk into the office of someone like me. I would never accept that love could be an equal of pain. Never. I was much too smart to let that happen.


I had seen to many people do just that. People that became broken because of it. People I gave my all so I could make sure they would be able to have a life again. A real life, the kind of life that makes you glad to be alive.


It's painfully clear now that I wasn't that smart.


The darkness is closing in on me and causes panic to arise. I don't even know where I am. All I know is that I am in a place where all hope is lost. No one hears your screams of pain and pleas for help. No one except Him.


Sitting in the corner, I press myself further into the wall, praying I will become invisible to the eye. I can't let Him find me.


Welcome to my hell.


My heart is pounding so hard that I am afraid He will hear it. The air feels thick and humid making it nearly impossible for me to breathe and the scent of blood and fear lingers around my body.


The scent of fear is penetrating. It doesn't reach your brain because you inhale it. No... the scent of fear slowly seeps into the deepest pores of your skin where it takes hold of you and plunges it's razor sharp edges in your mind. It hangs on with all of it's strength so you won't be able to escape it. It will take you as a hostage.


I hear my teeth clattering violently, The fear becoming more intense. Invisible hands placing themselves around my neck, slowly strangling the life out of me. I can't fight it. No one can fight an enemy that is invisible, one you can't touch.


The thought of ending it myself to make this sick game stop seems more appealing to me each passing second. But I can’t, because above all things, I want to live.


It's the strongest instinct.


My mind imagines Him walking around upstairs, pacing back and forth, trying to rid his body of the adrenaline rush I just gave him. His eyes dark with rage. I imagine him smiling. The smile he always gets when he is in absolute control. I can see it.


I can feel it.


The smile that doesn’t reach His eyes. The one that holds so much malevolence that you want to let out a bloodcurdling scream, the smile that He always gives you before the pain starts.


The smile that used to be filled with something else… something you loved.



I am Myra Conway and this is the story of my Downfall.

Moon this is fantastic. Its so chilling it actually gave me goosebumps! So what if its not as happy as other stories tend to be? It's still beautifully written and just as creative!
Personally I hope you continue to post this causeI think you have an amazing way with words!
Hoping for more

Chloe xxx

Well thank you very much.
If people are okay with this then I'll guess I'll be writing a lot more chappies.
Thanks again Chloe

You're most welcome. Im sure people will be fine with it and if they aren't they don't have to read it right?

Chapter 1: Save me darkness


I slowly guide my aching hands on the smooth surface of the wall. I need to get my sense of orientation back. My movements are slow and my mind can't seem to grasp the situation I am in... The world is grainy and dark, like a film noir. All the knowledge that is left to reside in my head is that I need to get out. Before it's too late.


I need to get away from Him.


Blood is still slowly seeping from all the wounds that were inflicted upon me earlier today. The silky liquid is slowly drying on my hands and fingers, losing its warmth rapidly after leaving the save confines of my body.The metallic scent is reaching my nostrils and I have to close my eyes and focus on the feeling of the cold and worn down floor to prevent the bile from rising into my throat.


The dull aching in my head becomes harder to ignore. It keeps pushing further and further to the surface. I know I need to get up. If I don't make myself move in this moment, I am afraid that I won't be able to do it at all.


I pull my legs up to my chest and I feel myself wince at the pain it causes. I can't do this anymore. His punishments become more and more painful everytime He gives them. Even when I prepare myself to stand the constant tormenting pain tells me my body has taken all it can.


It takes me several painful tries before I get a grip on the wall strong enough to support my body in it's attempt to raise from the floor. The sudden jolt of pain in my back comes with an unexpected intensity and I have to stop my struggle to allow the pain to fade. As a result my breath comes out in ragged gasps and my nails bury themselves into my skin.


I knew it... I had felt something shift in my back when He unleashed His rage on me. I have to focus on something else besides the pain. If I don't, the darkness will claim me.


I have to try.


The moment I stand tall enough to bring my head up, a tidal wave of dizziness and nausea wash over me and this time I can't do anything to stop it. My body doubles over and with it the flaring sharp pain in my back returns. It leaves me feeling helpless.


As I lean into the wall for support my stomach forces out all it's contents and my lungs scream for air. I try to breathe but everytime my stomach constricts again and all that leaves my mouth is the sound of a helpless being choking on it's own breath.


He really hurt me bad this time.


I feel my knees trembling beneath me and slowly I realize that my one chance possibly is gone forever. I can’t make it anywhere like this. Not with this body... But still I keep balancing myself and still I keep pushing myself further.


Using the wall as my guide I start moving one feet after another. I feel the tears streaming down my face. And my throat... It's burning. It's too much.


I keep hurting myself more and more. With every step there is something lurking in the darkness, ready to cause me even more pain. My hands are scraped and covered in splinters. The old wood of the storage shelves is embedding itself into the palms of my hands. I decide to stop using the wall for support and guidance and tentatively raise my arms in front of me.


Stupid.


The first step I take without the wall's strong and solid feel to guide me, my legs crash into an unfamiliar object. All my balance is lost and I feel myself falling into the wall. Right there at that spot I give up... I let my body slide down the wall never bothering to soften my fall to the floor. It was useless. I knew it was the minute I started.


My soul darkens a little again, admitting defeat and giving in to the sense of despair. The acceptance of the dreaded end. It has gone on long enough. The feeling has a surreal calming effect, and as I sit there my hands gently flutter over my body to feel the damage.


I carefully place my hand on my ribs and slowly put pressure on them, testing their resilience. Broken. Four of them, maybe five. My stomach feels warm and hard. That is never a good sign, it could mean internal injuries. I want to reach behind me and feel my back but the screaming pain in my shoulders prevents me.


My hand comes up to my head, moving on it's own account and not because I desire it to do so. The small droplets of sweat on my forehead stings when my hand slides over to the cut on my face. It's still bleeding.


My other hand joins in the feel for my left eye. It is throbbing and swollen shut. Undoubtedly it is already turning into a deep dark purple, the first stages of a bruise. I know... because lately I have been seeing to many of them.


My upper lip has a deep gash on the left side... I stop myself from trying to "see" more. I have seen too much already. The wetness coming from my eyes startles me. I caress it softly with my tips of my fingers.


For the first time since my hell started I am crying, I am finally crying. Small whimpers of defeat leave my bloodied lips and I try to make myself more comfortable in this cold dark place.


While I curl myself in the fetal position I decide that maybe it is time to give in to the darkness around me, to blend in.


I am already broken.


I force myself to think of good things.


Mom and Dad, Brian and Leah. I just need to think of better times. Mr. Jingles slobbering in my face at seven in the morning.


Holding my two godsons for the first time and celebrating the first day of summer with Brian on the beach. As I close my eyes, I feel the smallest smile forcing it’s way on my face.


Maybe the darkness is not such a bad place to be.

Oh, very suspensful and intense! I really like it, and I am just dying to find out who is hurting Myra, why they are hurting her (if there is a real reason and not just because the person is insane), and how she went from such a strong person to the part of victim. I like how she got her determination back at the end! She must fight!

I love the name, Myra, by the way! :yes:

And, I just wanted to let you know that you don't have to worry about the fic being too intense or violent, as long as you put the proper rating and warnings...which you already did....it is fine. So, keep posting freely! :yay:

Thank you Am,

(YAY!! another reader..)

Well the next chappie wil explain more about and her Family and other introductions are made.

Love, Moon

Chapter 2: When all was well


Myra Conway stood behind the stage doing a last minute rehearsal of her speech. As she stood there nervously rubbing the palms of both her hands dry she tried to calm herself down. The tall man behind her put his hands on her shoulders, whispered something in her ear and a small tentative smile could be seen on her face.


Every year the woman attended the fundraiser and every year she was nervous.


She would climb the 6 steps up to the main stage, give her speech and hope that enough important people would be in the room… Rich people that were willing to give generously to help this project protecting women in the U.S.A.


To her personally it was hypocrisy in the truest meaning of the word, 500 businesspeople and entertainers from everywhere around the globe sitting in their evening gowns and tuxedo’s while the women they were trying to protect sat in a small apartment with constant fear of being found by their tormentor.


To her, her job wasn’t just something that she did, it defined part of what she was. What she wanted to be. And yet here she was, in a pretentious evening gown that would look beautiful on a red carpet, sipping from the most expensive champagne and having casual conversations with the guests.


She hated every second of it.


She let out a trembling sigh while leaning into the chest of the man that was still standing behind her. At 6ft2 and weighing at least 200 pounds of solid muscle, the man carried a frightening resemblance with a professional football player. Yet this did not concern her in the least when she turned around and placed her head on the man's shoulder.


The man gently touched her nose, a small gesture that obviously held a special meaning to both of them.


“You’ll be fine Care bear, you will blow them away just like you do every year.”


The woman pensively smiled and tilted her head back to look the man in his eyes. Her eyes fillled with tenderness at his attempt to calm her.


"I know, It's just... I still hate this part of my work Bri.."


To the eyes of stranger it wouldn't be hard to believe these two people were exceptionally close, even if they were exact opposites. Her small 5ft6 frame was dwarfed by his large frame and while his hair was a golden blond shade, hers was a deep autumn brown. When their eyes met it was a collision of colors. Her eyes matching the darkness of her hair and his having the bluish green color of the pacific.


Their personalities where just as different as night and day. While her temper flared easily when she was provoked, he possessed a cool and collected calm that was almost impossible to break.


They were opposites, They were the same, they were brother and sister.


It was Brian that had made her aware of the issue on domestic violence and it had always been Brian to support her and help her through the heartbreaks when she first started working at the Greenwood Initiative Crisis Centre.


Still feeling her anxiety, he took it upon himself to gather his sister for a hug. He held her gently, almost as if he was afraid she would break.


“Everybody is here Care bear, Mom, Dad, Leah and your colleagues, I wouldn’t be surprised if they had smuggled Mr. Jingles in here with them somehow…"


She nodded into his shoulder, not bothering to look up at her brother. Both people simply enjoyed each others company, not wanting to be anywhere else than right there at that moment.


As the speaker started his introduction and told the audience about Myra Conway and her work for the Greenwood Initiative, Myra gave her brother one last hopeful glance and walked to the steps that lead up to the stage.


Brian stood there leaning casually against the doorpost with both hands in his pockets. He quickly mouthed “love you” and gave her a wink before returning to his seat. He didn't leave until she stood safely on the stage.


A couple of deep breaths later and when she had convinced herself that she wasn’t going to empty her stomach in the middle of her speech, she walked up to the main stage under loud applause and without further delay she started her speech.


“ Hello everybody, thank you so much for taking out some of your time to support this night were we try our hardest to make you aware of the growing problem of domestic abuse”


After waiting a few second for dramatic purposes she continued with the rest of her speech of which she hoped, would have such an impact that the mouths of the audience would fall open in silent horror.


They needed to see what see saw every day.


Quickly she searched out the faces of her parents, brother and best friend and gave a hasty look towards the legs of the table to make sure they didn’t really smuggle her dog inside. She wouldn't be particularly surprised if they did. She gave them a gentle warm smile and continued.


“The right of not experiencing violence is one of the basic human rights. Violence against women is gender stipulated which is manifested through physical, sexual and psychological wrong and women’s suffer. Gender based violence violates the human rights and is the main reason of women’s inequality in the society. While analyzing the results of the mass media campaign "16 Days of Opposing Violence against Women" a survey was carried out. It shows that ¾ of the respondents think that the main reasons of violence against women in our country are alcoholism and narcotic addiction. 52% mentioned unemployment, 45% - difficult economic situation, 38% - inadequate upbringing in the family, 31% - lack of culture and education, 26% - tolerance to cases of violence in our society, 20% think that mass media is to blame.


Every second person (54%) believes that men are guilty for violence against women. One of the most urgent problems is domestic violence. The police gets 50 thousand calls a year in cases of domestic violence. It is obvious that in most cases it were women who were looking for help. But how many women never asked for help and were not brave enough to speak up about their problems? The victims of violence often choose another way — they hide their bruises under powder and dark glasses. This is the manifestation of the stereotype attitude.


The topic of violence against women is frequent in press, TV and radio broadcasts. And the public trust in mass media is bigger than in church and the president. But the problem of violence against women is tackled sporadically, often after a shocking or scandalous event. In the contest for the journalists which was organized last year before the mass media campaign, the participants presented large amounts of analytic materials about the reasons and the consequences of violence against women. On the other hand, many bosses of the mass media and ordinary journalists who were asked to participate in the campaign claimed that they could not work when they get instructions what to write about.


I could give you a lot more statistics, reasons and information, but the truth is that then you won’t walk out of here any wiser then how you came in. So I will show you what domestic abuse does. I will show you the pain, humiliation and shame through some simple pictures.”


As the lights dimmed, a blank screen showed up and without commenting on the pictures, Myra made sure they saw the faces behind the numbers and statistics.


A woman with a face so swollen that the skin at her cheekbone had ruptured.
Large bruises had started to form and one eye was damaged so badly, it would need surgery later on, but the light had left that eye forever.


Weapon: Baseball bat


A picture of a young girls back, 732 stitches were needed to make sure all the wounds were closed and at the sides of her neck you could see that someone had tried to strangle her. She couldn't have been more than nine years old.


Weapon: Leather Belt


As the pictures continued to show, Myra heard a collective gasp go through her listening audience and saw tears form in the eyes of several people.
She gave the sign to put the light back on and the horrible truth faded from the blank screen. When the rustle started among the crowd she started speaking once more.


“Now imagine this was done to some one you love”


The crowd gave her a standing ovation as she made her way off the stage.
Immediately she rushed into the open arms of her mother and father, both visibly shaken from what they just saw.


The woman looked at both her parents and realized exactly how lucky she was.
Mary and Bob Conway had been happily married for 41 years and had proven to their children that marriage and love is not without struggle, but could be done if both people made an effort everyday.


Myra had decided a long time ago to not settle for anything less than the love that her parents shared. Both had made sure that Myra and Brian always had a save haven to come back to and they had always worked hard to be able to provide that small piece of comfort in what could sometimes be a harsh world.


And just like every other family not everything was perfect, Brian had given both parents grey hairs going trough puberty and experimenting with drugs before he decided to become a police officer and when Myra started to realize that she had opinions of her own, she felt it as her duty to make sure the were heard, much to the dismay of her teachers. But even if their kids drove them to utter desperation, they had never laid a hand on them and they tried to teach them both to respect themselves and the people around them.


It had worked out so well.


After excusing herself Myra walked up to her best friend. They had known each other since they were toddlers and the women watched each other grow up into teenagers, adolescents, young women and eventually into the women they both were today. Nearly 25 years of friendship had created a deep bond between them.


Leah threw her arms around her friend and her large grey eyes filled with tears told Myra that what she just saw was an unacceptable truth. Her eyes also told Myra that the mother of her two god sons was proud of her. It made her feel grateful.


When her family and friends had left, Myra made her way to the cocktail bar. Looking backwards to see if she could make eye contact with her colleague, she failed to see the man that stood in her path.


While the woman sat on the floor, her mind processing what had just happened, a strong hand came into focus. Myra took it and when she was standing once more started apologizing profusely.


When she looked up in the most startling pair of green eyes she had ever seen, she fell silent. A shaky hand was extended in greeting and the man gave her a generous smile telling her it was a pleasure to be run over by a beautiful woman.


She was lost.


And so it began.


“I’m Billy Boyd”

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If you are reading this story, please post a reply.
I would love to know what you think and if you have any suggestions to improve my writing since this is my first fic that I ever posted anywhere.
Thank you.

Part of Myra’s speech was taken from the study: 16 Days Media Campaign on Violence against Women.
For the entire rapport check out the following link: http://www.osi.hu/vaw/propbycount.php?count=lithuania
The Greenwood Initiative project is also a real foundation and more info can be found here: http://thegreenbook.info/

Wow, I think it is a very valuable thing Myra does. I was watching a television show last night about a woman who was beat by her husband and too scared to cry out for help...its just so terribly sad, something that people really need to hear about so they can support the initiatives to help them. I think Myra was awesome for showing the pictures.

Her family sounds very supportive. :yes: And, she ran into Billy! Wow! But....is he the one who hurts her? :unsure:

Thank you Am,

Glad you like Myra, she has been creeping in my head now for a long time.
As for Billy, His part will come into focus soon enough.

Thanks for reading!

Hey Darling, Sorry I didn't reply sooner butI am still reading!! I absouletly adore the way you write! Its so stunningly beautiful its heatwrencng yet funny and warming all at once.
Keep up the wonderful work, Im sorry this is short Im about to go out. But I just had to reply so you know how wonderful I think this is!!

Chloe xxx

Chapter 3: Planning


I must have passed out


It's the first realization that reaches my clouded brain.


The second realization is that I am still in the basement.


I don't how long I have been unconscious. Time is quite the contradiction in here, every second lasts an hour and an hour seems like an eternity.


I don't remember if I was dreaming of the past when I was out, but I remember the feelings. It provides me with a small sense of comfort. If I close my eyes I will be in a good place... a safe place.


I was so strong back then, I felt that the world was mine to take. You might say that I possessed an arrogance, going about life prancing like a lioness among sheep…


Indestructible.


Now I feel as if the world is punishing me for all the times that I was too involved with myself, for all the times I forgot to say people I loved them and for the times I felt pity for the women I used to help.


I pitied them yes, but not in the way you would a small puppy being beaten, pitying it for being so helpless and defenseless. I never could figure out when empathy became pity.


I pitied the women in the way you would pity a homeless man that is addicted to drugs. You feel sorry for them, but at the same time there is this little voice in the back of your head whispering “You do realize part of this is their own fault.. they let it get this far”.


I loved my job… but I never said I was perfect, I never paid attention to that voice and I never acted like I was better. Or at least I think I didn’t. I did my job and I loved to watch the women grow to healthy and strong human beings again. Or to see a child being embraced by someone without cowering away in fear.


I always pushed that voice to the deepest corner of my mind. I knew it was terribly wrong to feel that way.


Looking back, maybe somewhere I had placed myself on a high horse and started to believe that I was better than these women, That I was stronger and smarter than them. But I can’t tell you that and be certain.


All I wanted to do was help.


The things you learn about yourself when you are about to die.


And be completely honest with me… Don’t we all scream at the top of our lungs that the first man that would touch you with the intention of hurting you, would be the first man to ever be castrated with a French manicure done by “Sally’s nail art salon”.


I sure did and I was wrong.


The irony of the situation strikes me and I allow the sadness to take hold of me. It pains me every day to see what I have become. How we could have been if things went differently.... if the past could be taken back.


My eyes slowly tear up again and I cry for all the times I lost my strength to walk out, to leave the hurt behind. I cry because of the woman inside of me that would have done that, had long ago passed away. She had passed away when He told her over and over she was not worth anymore than this.


The woman that died then would have screamed obscurities at Him and probably would have tried to get a couple of punches in. Instead that woman has been replaced by someone that is believed to be worthless and that deserves this punishment for her stupidity and arrogance.


I do believe that right now. Why else would I be laying here. Why else would even doing something as simple as crying cause me pain. It is killing me.


Vey slowly new feelings come creeping to the surface, something new and something long forgotten. Feelings that belonged to the woman that had died so long ago. Feelings of the woman that used to fight. She tells me that I am only weak if I give up now, I have come to far too give up. That I have seen too much to give up.


Anger, Hate, Disgust.


For the first time these feelings are not for myself. Not because I am weak or because I am disgusted with myself. This is all for Him. For what He did to me all these times.


This has not happened before, I have never hated Him. I have feared Him yes, but hate… No. I was always the one that pushed him into his rage. It was my fault.


The feeling leaves me mortified, knowing what it would lead to, it would undoubtedly lead me to get up and to try and escape.


I know it must sound strange, not wanting to escape because I do, but please try to understand. The woman that tried to get away from Him, many times ended up more dead than alive, so for the sake of survival I had to kill her. Survival is what counts and the harder you fight Him, the harder the punishment is.


Being silent and inconspicuous is what keeps you alive. As long as you stay silent you will be okay, then it won’t hurt so bad. Just remember not to scream. Never. When He gets like that... He feeds of the fear He causes you. Afterwards he apologizes.


I try to stop this feeling from spreading but I am failing. It's still burning inside me, creating a small spark and it's building to a small fire. Like a match being lit to cause a blazing inferno.


Slowly a hint of determination begins to set in my mind. I try to stop the voice in my head that keeps repeating the same sentence over and over.


“Better to go down fighting than to hide like a coward”.


I hesitate but I still answer her. She doesn't understand my fear.


But what if being a coward is what’s keeping me alive?


I can feel the voice hesitate in my mind but it comes back with a reply that I can’t ignore.


“So you can live another day to see another beating?”


I finally let the voice take me over and I try to stand up again. This time I make it without collapsing again. I smile, the second time this day.


Maybe I did not kill the woman as permanently as I thought.


With renewed strength I press myself out of the corner and feel around for the stairs. I know that I need to cross the basement diagonally to find it and I use my hands to avoid all the disgarded items on the ground.


I wince with every movement I have to make but I notice the voice is not just giving me strength to think about escaping but it is also making it possible for me to bare the excruciating pain. None the less, it is still causing me to see little bolts of light to dance in front of my eyes. I still feel the dizziness trying to overtake me.


The battle to get up the stairs is long and it makes me cry out more than once, but I reach the end. Now I have to place the key that I had put inside the pocket of my dress earlier into the lock.


All the sounds of the world fade away and the fast paced monotonous sound of my heartbeat fills my ears. I know that if I make to much sound, He will hear it. And He will come to get me. Like a shark that is drawn to the scent of blood.


I lift my arm up trying to pinpoint the position of the lock, my shoulder screaming in protest but I keep going despite the sharp sting it sends trough my nerves. Carefully I place the key in the look and stop when I hear the sound of metal on metal. I cringe.


Every sound could easily mean the difference between life and death.


The key is in the lock and subconsciously I push my self further in the wall as if it would swallow me whole. Becoming invisible once more.


This is it… the moment of truth.


I slowly turn the key and hear the telltale click that the door is now open. I only open it about a quarter of the way knowing that if I open it further a god-awful creak will make itself heard.


I use my arm to shield my eyes from the cruel light that is trying to intrude my irises. Slowly I let my eyes adjust and try to control my legs. I take the last step out of the basement and into the kitchen. A short whimper of relief escapes my mouth, He is not waiting behind the door. I fall to my knees once more and gently I let my head rest against the cold tiles of the kitchen wall.


Paranoia has become my friend. Every door, every shadow I see, could be where He is hiding. It keeps me alert and makes me even more careful. You could almost say it is a good thing. Almost....


Fighting the sharp ache in my body I lean into the wall, calculating the distances. The distance to where I am and to where I need to be right now. Outside... The voice tells me to stay, that outside is too dangerous and that I will get myself killed.


I keep ignoring it and continue counting.


Only 6 more steps to the hall, then 3 steps to cross that and another 5 to the door.
14 steps and than I am outside.


More pain when I force myself to stand once more. It's almost over now. 14 steps is nothing. I can make it. I never plan further then those 14 steps. I'll start thinking again when I am outside.


1….. 2….. 3……. 4……. I close my eyes when I get to the mirror .. 5…. I know that if I look in the mirror I will lose all my nerve… I don't want to see what He has done. I don't want to see the woman I have become....6.... Just 8 more trembling steps.


I suddenly stop, my eyes are still closed but my paranoid brain believes there was another breath being taken. In an instant all the strength I had summoned up down in the basement starts to crumble away. Slowly I open my eye and turn my head to the left. Nothing. Relief washes over me.


Too soon.


Within a second my entire body stiffens in terror and the little hairs on my neck stand up. I can feel His breath floating over my right ear and He grabs my chin with a surprising gentleness I have not seen from Him in ages.


The tears flow freely again, knowing that this will probably be my end. All hope is lost, with that simple touch of his hand on my body my last ounce of strength has vanished and panic has become it's successor.


The match that was lit earlier has now reached the end and is burning my fingers.


He turns my face so I am forced look Him straight in the eye. His piercing green eyes are dark with rage and I know that this might just be the final confrontation. A soft Scottish lilt fills my ears.


“Going anywhere little lass.”


Finally I will get my wish. It will end. But my mind only screams one thing...


I should have stayed down.

Thank You Amber and Chloe for your kinds words and for sticking with the story.
I know it is picking up slowly
The following chapters will make it more clear on how it got this far and more people will come into focus.
And if you have any tips to improve my writing do not hesitate.

Love, Moon

I can't believe I've missed this up until now! *smacks self*

As soon as I finish my theatre paper I am so coming back here to read and comment *crosses fingers hopefully*

Till then! *stomps back to paper dejectedly* Stink.

*back* Sorry it took me so long, but I finally just caught up and all I have to say is:

Holy shit :eek:

My gawd, hun, this story feels like a punch in the gut. You know, like watching the movie Hotel Rwanda or something (only fictional, sort of) in a sense- where you want to scream and smash things and burst into horrified and ashamed tears because hell, this kind of horror goes on but... what do you do? What do you do...?

Emotional response. Physical response. Impact- awsome writing. You've knocked me off my feet hun, and you've done it marvelously.

Might I make a few suggestions though, (since you asked for them)? How do your paragraphs look when you type them? Because when you post them it seems that nearly each sentence is its own paragraph. This is fine if that's the effect you want, but if not you may want to fix it.

Other than that I can't really think of anything (too stunned *laughs*). I must say though, I thought I might puke when Billy introduced himself. Man, it freaks me out just a bit everytime someone writes one of these guys in a roll that's all evil and such (like Amber's Lijah in UYS). One gets so used to the cute, and then *bam!*- No so cute.... *sigh*

Right then, just want you to know that I will definitely be back when you post more of this. Keep up the great work hun ;) Tchao!

Ok so I've just stared at the last 2 lines for about 10 minutes and I still do not know what to say....
That was so amazingly well written, it was powerful an chilling, enthralling and inspiring.
The last thing you need to do is say thankyou to me for reading this story because its an honour to do so. You are a truely gifted writier and I know I'm just babbling butI really am at a loss for anything remotely linked to feedback right now. I'm sorry I took a little while to read this but I've been working, and know that I have I'm just totally blown away.
If I get over this, I will come back and leave you some proper critique.

Chloe xxx

Wow. this makes me feel good.
Yes, I know it is strange to read about someone that you admire in a way where they are not the people we want or imagine them to be.
The reason I did this is basically to get people to read the story.
It could have been an original story but sadly many people pass the original section up. Or barely reply.

Jewelz: thanks for the tip on the paragraphs, I did not intend for every sentence to read like a paragraph.
And as the referral to hotel Rwanda: Holy Cow, I was complety schocked after seeing that movie, and I am amazed that I managed to get the same response from you.

Chloe: Well puh, still gonna thank you.... :neene:

*starts new chappie*

:doh: fine be that way, see if I care about you being so gracious <_< But i do adore your writing, and you!! :bow:
Also I know exactly wht you mean about the originals section being passed up by alot of people, so thankyou so much for reading my story!! :hug:

Looking forward to the new chapter!!
Chloe xxx

*gets chills* This was so scary and made me so nervous! I so wanted her to get out undetected, but now he knows! :cry: He's going to hurt her...I'm getting all squeamish inside just thinking of her fear and pain. Gosh, is this really Billy doing all this? What a horrible lad, if so!

Very powerful writing!

Hey Amber,
Thanks for the reply.
Sorry for using your fave character but I saw a piccie of Billy on his official site. It was taken during "The ballad of crazy Paola" and he looks so angry there...
I will try to make it up to you a bit in the following chappies.

Love you allllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

Oh, I know what pic you're talking about! ^_^

Hi Moon,

Good lord every chapter I had goosebumps all over me. I feel so bad for Myra, but I also unfortunately know what she is going through. My ex abused me, only physically and emotionally though.

This story is incredible, really good so far. I can't wait to see more even though I don't think I'll like Billy being the one who hits her. :no:

Anyhoo its good :)

Katie

Thanks Katie,

I am actually feeling bad for using Billy right now LOL
with him being a new dad and all....
But I promise this story is not going to be all bad, Myra's flashbacks will also show happier and better times.

Really Promise

Meh, it's just fictional- don't feel bad :) If anyone can't recognize that he's simply your own character who happens to share a name and eye colour, etc with Mr Boyd, then they have their own problems to worry about :P

Don't stop writing! I'm dying for more of this fantastic bit of work

But as for now, I have a paper to write, so Tchao! *runs off*

I finaly had some time to check out your story.
And I must say that I am totally blown away.
Your style is very good and your descriptions are spot on.
You know how to build tension and to feel for a character instantly.
Yes I am definately impressed!!

I am powerfully intrigued by your story. I am very curious how she turned from the strong woman she was into the woman she is now. I do admire you courage for tackeling such a difficult topic but I can see that you have done a lot of research...and that you know what you are writing about. Creating a bit more awareness over domestic violence and abuse of women is something I can only applaud you for.

So you can definately expect to see me back here again. Cause it is very good!

Allright my wonderful and lovely readers.
Just a real quick and short chappie.

To Katie: Sorry hun that you had to go trough a similar experiance.
Just because it was emotional does not make it less disturbing and a loud applause to you for having the strength to get out

To Dana: Thank you for noticing the research that I have done in order to make it a plausible story.
It means a lot to me.

To Jewelz: Thanks for the little peptalk.
It is greatly appriciated.

And to all: Thank you for reading!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 4: Love me Tender


It had started out so well.


I remember the shameless flirting, the first kiss, the gentle love making and the heated passion. All the lazy Sundays that we decided that we were not going to come out of our room. I can still see him placing his head in my lap, coming home exhausted from a long day of filming or press junkets.


The million times he tried to teach me how to play the piano but due to me being tone deaf failed miserably. He would always end up playing the piano himself while I would sit on the ground with my eyes closed listening to his music. There was a time when just the simplest touch of his hands would be able to make my body ache with desire.


In one instant I see all those moments, moments that gave me unimaginable pleasure and joy.


Not because I want to remember but because I need to remember.


I need to know what happened, where it went wrong, how we went from equals to master and slave..


What was the moment when laughter turned into and fear, where and at what point did I accept that I was nothing more than a punching bag.


Every now and then my mind drifts back to the logic of my education and I am reminded that I am technically the victim, but most of the time I find that I barely remember all the theories. And when I do I find that they sound so incredibly narrow minded. Made by semi-intelligent outsiders trying to look in on a situation they could never fully understand.


Not unless they find themselves in it.


Studying Psychology should have given me an advantage, not a disadvantage and it pains me that even with everything I know and have seen I’m not able to get trough to myself or him.


What did I do wrong.


I am still standing in the hallway, tears overflowing my face and my heart is in his hands. I am praying that he won't crush it like he has done so many times before.


He has the power to make this stop and one way or the other and I hope that it will happen tonight because I can’t take this a second longer. I lost that ability a long time ago and now I am to weak to even stand without trembling or to speak without it visibly hurting.


I am trying to find an answer to his question but apparently I am not fast enough.


“I asked you a question, don’t you think you should a least give me an answer lass”


His voice is filled still filled with a certain arrogance and it's laced with sarcasm but not as prominently as I remember it to be. Then again it could be because he already knows the answer to his own question.


I don’t understand......


It feels like I am being drowned while I am already paralysed and I can’t do anything about it. I am so tired.


I won’t tell him I was running away from him, That has become quite obvious. Instead I feel the only question that has been tormenting my mind for the past five months burning on my lips.


I am so tired of feeling fear. So unbelievably tired. I changes you into a mindless drone, going through routines hoping and praying you do them perfect enough and fast enough so he won't be able to find a reason to do what he does everytime when something isn't to his liking.


Everytime he reaches for a bottle of alcohol your eyes widen in fear. It is ten times as unbearable when he has had something to drink. The smell of anything alcoholic reminds you of the times his breath floated in your face before the beatings started.


As I stand there openly crying and trying to hide my broken body, I see a change in his demeanour. He stands less rigid and some of the venomous anger has left his eyes. He stopped clenching his fist and his head is tilted slightly to the side, as if he is questioning the situation.


I continue to sob and wail, it doesn’t matter anymore if he knows I am weak.
Let him see it, I want him to see what he has done me, what he has reduced me to.


A woman to scared to speak or move, too afraid to look in the mirror everytime she had a "lovers quarrel".


I am tired of running and tired of picking myself up from the floor. And yes, I know that I will probably pay for what I have done later, I always pay for showing weakness.


He sets a step towards me and without even thinking I recoil from his touch.
Trough the eye that still has light I look at him, his image blurred by the never ending flow off tears.


I barely see him, but I can feel that the waves of anger pulsating from his body are diminishing.


So seeing me broken like this does affect him….


Trough the tears and with a small, trembling voice I manage to ask my question.
A question that by al objective reasoning should not even be in my mind in the first place.


“Why can’t you just love me anymore??”


The words float from my lips and I let myself fall to the floor. ingnoring the pain it causes, I ingnore the pain everything I do causes. I curl up in a fetal position once more and let my sobs grow stronger and stronger despite the hurt it is causing my throat I scream.


“WHY!!!”.


My numbness to what will undoubtedly happen because of this scares me even more. Maybe I do really want to die.


I feel the floor vibrating a little, letting me know he is walking towards me.
This is it, this is the end, he will finally finish it and I will be free of this hell.


Tears of relief softly mix with the ones on the floor caused by despair creating a small glowing pool of evidence that no one will get used to pain that has settled into the darkest corner of your soul.


Suddenly I am lifted of the floor in a careful and gentle manner. The whole world seems to stop for only a second letting confusion take hold of me.


Why isn’t he strangling me or beating me??


I open my eye to make sure my mind is not deceiving me…..It’s not. It is Billy carrying me and he is going in the direction of the bedroom. Normally this would make me want to vomit and hide in a small corner but I feel regret and guilt vibrating from his body.


I hear him mumbling something repeatedly but I can’t understand what he is saying. Softly he smells my hair, something he used to do every night when he thought I was asleep. Then I feel his tear landing on my cheek and again the confusion grows as I feel it make a path down to my lips where the salty liquid stops to sting in the cut the he has caused.


The voice in my head says only one thing.


“How interesting”


As I feel my body being lowered down on the mattress and I let the fatigue overtake my body, I realize the voice is right.


Maybe Billy didn’t kill the man he used to be as permanently as he thought.
Much like I am still a little bit of the woman I once was…..


Maybe this is not the end just yet

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I know it is a short one, but I hope you enjoyed it none the less!
Loads of Luvvies, Ramona

It took most people who has had that happen to them a long time to talk about it, but after about 2 months, I found myself being okay to talk about it. I've always been a talker so why stop now right? lol :laugh:

Wow that gave me chills lol.

I still don't like the idea of him being Billy lol, I know you feel bad about it because he's a new dad, but after all it is fiction.

I still would like to know that lol, I was put in counseling after I ended it and even then I still never figured out why and how it got started. I always wondered what did I do for it to even cross his mind that violence was the answer?

I guess I'll never know lol.

Anyways sorry, I really liked this chapter, I like it alot! I can't wait to see more :hug:

Katie

P.S. Thanks for nominating me in the Ewac Awards :shine:

Isn't that the problem Katie..
Whe never know how it began, it happens to slowly and before you know it you are trapped.

And as for nominating you, anytime.
Now I will be a good reader and reply to it *hides in shame*
Sometimes I am so caught up in reading that I just forget.

Love, Moon

LOL anytime I think we're all guilty of reading, but never reviewing. It shows at the number of times people have clicked on your story to read it lol.

Yes you are exactly right, mine lasted about a month, but it felt like a decade. I felt like I was in a cage and I hate feeling like that.

But it has been over a year and for the most part I'm doing good. :getdown:

:)

Katie

Ohhh, a chilling chapter, yet again! I love this story! It is so interesting...so, Billy does still have a bit of remorse and human like actions still inside of him. Though, how is she to know when he will snap and go crazy again? Intriguing...

This line was awesome! It says so much about their relationship. :yes:

Keep it coming!

Great chapter hun. I just want to scream at her and tell her to get out of there NOW! *sigh* Ack...

So strange how their relationship changed so...and his reaction to her question is an interesting one. But I certainly still don't trust him. Oh, I wish she'd get out of there!

Can't wait for more :) Ttfn!

I was a bit anxious about posting this chappie, worring if his reaction wouldn't seem to far fetched.
Regret often is a common emotion after the fact with spousal abuse though and I want this story to be a reflection of a tale that happens everyday to thousands of women all over the world.

And what a bunch of wonderful reviews.

I'VE BEEN NOMINATED IN THE FANTASTIC AWARDS.
whoohoo, my first fic ever posted and a nomination in the bag.
Hahaha off course winning it is something different but MAN how cool is the nomination.

Thank you for the people that voted.
Love, Love and more love.

Well I am working on the next chappie and hopefully I will be able to share it with you soon after scrutinizing it myself and having it beta'd

Very interesting chappie.
Partly because both realise that some part of their old selves are still their.
I am only afraid it won't be enough for either of them.
Besides that I am very anxious to find out why they both changed so much,
what happened and why they are the way they are now.

You know I always find this interesting. You see I have followed classes in psychology and I am qualified to give some counselling to people (as social worker that is) The point is that psychology can help you fix other people's problems but never your own. It doesn't really protect you though most people are convinced it will. But that isn't the way it works and she found out in a very hard way.

And of course this is part of the problem. She didn't do anything wrong and she can only be helped when she realises that. I just hope she will find her spirit, her self-esteem back beofre it is to late!

Great update! I am looking forward to reading more.

Oh Bella!! :hug: Your writing is so beautiful!!! I know I keep saying it but you rally do have such a wonderful way with words! You manage to be chilling yet touching all at once!
I can't wait for more to see what caused such a breakdown in what seems to have once been a beautiful relationship!!
Well done, keep up the fantastic work!

Chloe xxx

Thanks Chlo you left me another wonderful reply.
It is always a joy to hear from you espicially because you gave me the boost to keep writing in the beginning

And to Dana I always love to read your insights and posts and always let my eyes linger on your reply's because you read it so well and you get it perfectly.
I never took any Psychology classes but I am fascinated by the human emotions

Jewelz, thank you for your lovely words, they are such a wonderful thing to read.

Ambrosia, thank you for nominating me it means a lot to me and the same goes for katie.

And to the rest that reads this: thank you period.

Awww you're so welcome, especially when the replies I do give are recieved with such gratitude. And I must say I'm truely glad I had a part in helping you keep writing this cause you really are talented, I'm not just being nice when I say so!

Anway I'm looking forward to all that is to come!
Chloe xxx

Good gracious woman, you really read all those long rants I post??? :eek: :blush: :lalala:
I feel honoured, really I do.

So how about a new update? :noangel: :devil:

Hey Dana,

I am working on the next chappie.
Hopefully I will be able to post it end of the week or in the begining next week.
Just a bit more patience
hahaha.

And uhhhhhhhh, how bout you update chosen :devil:
(hehe two can play that game)

*mock pout* I updated LG!!

More soon??? *bats eyes* :D

YOU UPDATED LG.
God I so love that story, I read it in the very beggining and it became a fast favourite of mine.
Just because of this I have to hurry up to post an update LOL.
Jewelz you rock

*goes off to read LG, waits... oh well can edit my chappie tommorow to*