Chimera Fields oh, fortune fortune

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Her body, which had felt so very good just moments ago, now felt so very bad. He pulled and he tugged at her and bumped against her and his incisors pierced her — this wasn’t what the burnt girl had wanted to happened — this wasn’t supposed to happen! It was all wrong! At least, thats what the stories had told her. Sex was gallant warriors and fearless leaders, capable of that cavalier type of love reserved for the wolves of aristocracy. Grand gestures were needed before virtues was surrendered, but he hadn't earned her [hadn’t done anything at all]… as if she were some common whore. 

In her mind, she flailed against him and made his hellish task more trouble than it was worth! In her mind, she pulled away from the agony of his taking and slipped from his grasp; for she was young and fluid and could easily weasel herself through the entanglement of his limbs. In her mind, she cried out and screamed so that someone might hear and come end her assault. In her mind, she did so many things but in her reality, Kitsch did nothing. Could do nothing! She was nothing more than a ragdoll in his strong arms, body incapacitated but mind uncommonly strong, thrashing against the inefficacy of her corporeal movements. The girl was simply a passenger in her own defilement, rocking to and fro in a motion that had the potential to be the most beautiful thing in the world but instead was nothing but destruction. 

Where was the blissful dullness that the poppy had given her?! Though the plant did nothing to mollify the soreness Kitsch felt in her body [for he was constantly finding new ways to pain her] but she felt the presence of the high in the rush of her veins, in the laboring of her breath which was forced from her lungs from the force of his thrusts. The man clawed at the delicate pink skin of her stomach and hips as if she was nothing. garbage. a woman so useless and undeserving of love that this was the best that the world would ever deign to give her. Even worse than nothing, she was an angel fallen, stripped of her wings and deserving of this fate. This, she was now sure of — he had showed her the truth. “please—“ she supplicated again, this time with more force, hoping he was listening and might take heed… but he didn’t and images of the gallant warriors and fearless leaders flashed across her mind, overriding any sight perceived through her unseeing eyes. Perhaps if she deadened to herself to the world, it may be over faster. But as she shielded her ears from the sounds of the brute grunting away on top of her, the strength suddenly left her legs and she fell to the ground with him on top of her, legs collapsing and folding underneath her. The impact forced the breath from her lungs and she struggled to regain it. Perhaps she would never regain it and she would die right here, like the dirty and worthless thing that she was. Perhaps it was for the best.

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