MARIEL

3~ Accountability ~

They both lay on the floor, surrounded by white walls. Esther felt confused as she stared at his face, as he hovered over her, as he invaded her body. He had a smirk on his face, a dull look in his eyes. Even as she told him to slow down, as she told him that it hurt, as the anger and fear rose inside of her heart, she still thought that he was beautiful. That face, so familiar, still belonged to Mariel, a man that she believed would have to do something completely unforgivable in order to quickly remove her love for him.

It hurt. The thrusts inside of her. The way he looked at her with that snarling smirk. The way his eyes narrowed and turned threatening. This wasn't the love she thought they'd shared. It was control... and she was allowing it. He was having a bad moment, he would move past it. He'd become the gentle, shy man for whom she'd fallen. Wouldn't he?

At least, that's what she wanted to believe as his thrusts turned violent, as he snatched that necklace from her neck, as she felt each violent slam of his hips reach deep against her cervix. Hadn't this been her desire? To give Mariel all of herself? Body? Mind? Soul? Isn't that what second chances were for? He'd been dead. He'd been brought back to life. This was their second chance, the thing she had always wanted. It would come with a cost, with pain, emotional turmoil, but as he snarled down at her, laughing at her desperate pleas to be gentler, Esther Caravan realized that she couldn't stay here. She couldn't allow this. She loved him... but he was destroying her. She had to get out.

So, she screamed, and pleaded, and beat her fists against his chest, but he only became more violent, more vicious, and his laughter became louder to mute her screams. As she desperately tried to break free, she found herself looking around the white-walled room, looking for someone, but she did not know whom. Desperately, she pounded her fists, sobbing, searching for the person she needed. The person who might protect her. The name was on her tongue. In her mind's subconscious. Forming on her lips. Finally, it spurted from her mouth as she struggled to break free.

"Tira!"

Esther's eyes fluttered open. She was surrounded by darkness. Familiar, dull pain throbbed in her skull as she attempted to understand where she was, how she'd gotten there, and why she clearly heard Stevie Wonder's Superstition vibrating the unfamiliar walls. Groaning, Esther struggled to sit up, and then realized that she hadn't even attempted to sit up at all. Her mind had wanted to move... but her body hurt. Her legs. Her groin. Her stomach and arms. Hell, everything hurt. Her mouth felt sticky from limited saliva, the room spun, and she felt as though she'd vomit if she didn't hydrate soon. However, one question still remained.

Where was she?

Finally, Esther rolled over, and she saw the glow of another light as it pierced the darkness of the room. On the nightstand, next to the bed, sat a digital alarm clock. Military time: 03:46 am.

Groaning, Esther propped herself onto her elbows and frowned at her body in a perplexed daze. White t-shirt. Comfortable shorts.

Quickly, propping herself onto one arm, she grabbed her right breast with the other hand and sighed with relief. The bra hadn't been removed. Esther lifted the waistband of her shorts. Wrinkled her nose at the stench. She smelled of aged sweat and sex... but she still wore her panties. Good. Now -

Where was she?

Oh. Fuck.

In the distant, fuzzy memories in her mind, Esther remembered that she had called Officer Mysterious. At the moment, she didn't remember much more than that, and she wasn't sure she wanted to. She was certain, however, that she'd managed to make a fool of herself in some way.