Chapter 9
Elizabeth
Hasting wraps her arms tightly around herself. She feels safe and
secure inside this cocoon. The darkness is tender and sweet. The silence
is comforting and strong. Nothing can hurt her. No one can interrupt
her. And she doesn't have to think about or remember anything. Anything.
She closes her tired and swollen eyes and lets out a small, exhausted
sigh. She has spent all her life scheming, plotting and protecting. Now
it's finally time for her to rest and relax. She didn't even stay to
meet their lawyer, a guy that looks like a young Donald Trump but is not
as smart or sly as the lawyers on TV or in the movies. She hopes Emily
is doing all right. She knows she should be there for Emily, but she
honestly has no strength left. She can no longer defend. She can no
longer fight. She almost died when the RangeMan thugs lay their hands on
her. And now she's barely alive. And she's trying her best not to long
for Joseph. Her movie star handsome and wicked Joseph. She misses his
smile. She misses his eyes. She misses his furry arms, legs and chest.
But all she can do now is dream...and dream...and dream...
She
listens to Emily's even breathing and regular heartbeats. And suddenly
she feels sorry for Emily. She feels sorry for Joseph. She feels sorry
for herself. STOP! Elizabeth says firmly. Love. Hate.
Humiliation. Failure. Revenge. And the meaning of life. She has stopped
wasting her time on any of those attractive but worthless things. She
just wants to sleep. She just wants to dream. She just wants to forget.
She's so, so tired, frustrated and depressed. She wants to fall asleep
and never wake up. She just wants to be loved. She just wants to be
cherished. She just wants to be a Cupcake, a simple, airy, pleasant,
fluffy, easy and cute Cupcake, Joseph's Cupcake, his very favorite
Cupcake. She doesn't know what went wrong. She doesn't like having a
broken heart. She's dying to see Joseph. She's ashamed to think of
Joseph. She still can't believe she failed him. She's still greatly
disappointed she didn't kill Stephanie. And she misses her mother and
father terribly. She wishes Spark, her childhood family dog, can be here
to lick her face and bark his happy bark. Oh, how she wishes she can
turn back the clock.
Regrets and remorse swallow her whole. She
smiles and cries, and chooses not to put up a fight. Maybe this is for
the best. Maybe this is her fate. Maybe it's time for her to let go and
move on to the she will be united with her parents and Spark. She
doesn't see any white light. She doesn't hear any beautiful sound. Just
the darkness. Just the silence. Just herself. Just...just...
Just the memories of the large strong hands that grasped hold of her arms and shoulders.
Just the memories of the intriguing and faint scent of sweat, aftershave and pure masculinity.
Just the memories of the hot muscular male bodies.
Just the memories of the shining black, dark or light brown skin.
Just the memories of the unfamiliar desire engulfing the core of her being.
To
be wrapped in those arms. To be kissed by those lips. To be appraised
and caressed by those exotic eyes. To taste, to sense, to feel, to
experience what it is like to embraced by Ranger's men...all of
them...everyone of them...by Ranger...
Emily Hasting wakes up with
a gasp. She feels hot and bothered though she's bathing in cold sweat.
She can't stop trembling or feeling frightened and...excited? She knows
something really, really wrong and really, really bad must have
happened. "Elizabeth?" She half croaks, half whispers. "Elizabeth?" She
begins to panic when there's no answer. "Elizabeth!" She screams. And
screams. And screams. All the sleepy female inmates blink in confusion
and hold their breath in fear. They'd really love to shout "Shut the
fuck up! You crazy bitch!" and go back to sleep. But they dare not take
the risk of enraging the crazy bitch. So they keep their mouths shut,
pull the covers over their heads, and wonder who the Hell Elizabeth is.
Emily Hasting sure is no Lesbian, is she?
Geez.
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