★ Eunhyuk's BB (cutecrazyice) wrote,
★ Eunhyuk's BB

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there it goes

I'm new to this, so I really do appreciate honest opinions. Heh. I hope this is okay enough, for a first monthly-contest try. It's pretty rough. :)

Week 1 entry for October: Brigit's Flame
Prompt: Story starts with the sentence "There it goes."


There it goes. Like an image that’s frozen inside her head, and it never stops.

It never, ever stops.


The wind is picking up, and the storm is almost coming. Her lips are forming little puffs of cold clouds as she breathes in and out, as calmly as she possibly could—though at the moment, calm or anything remotely related to it is the farthest thing from her mind.

There is only fear there, for he is coming.

He is nearing.

The forest is dark and thick as she runs through it, and she couldn’t really see ahead of the branches and leaves that are snapping at her face, harsh and unforgiving—she ignores them, and tries to run faster, despite the cuts and bruises that sting. Thicker branches come, and because of the lack of light—and perhaps her weakening limbs—she stumbles, and falls face first, bruising herself further, and stealing her breath away.

It hurts. It hurts so, so much.

But with determination, she stands up, and ignores the pain, and keeps on running—because she knows this pain is nothing compared to the one he will bring when he finally, finally catches up with her.

He is coming.

The monster is coming.

And there is nothing she could do about this, because in a way, she is helpless. She is eleven, and she is alone, and she only had her mama, and no one else.

Mama, please.

But mama is gone now.

Mama, where are you?

The monster had taken her long ago.

Mama, help.

Slowly, the rain falls.

Thunder, then lightning. It drenches her, and it deafens her, but not enough to dull her senses.

...slowly, the snapping of twigs comes.

She panics, and runs faster, and tries not to whimper. Eventually, the branches and trees thin out, and before she knows it, there is a field, with a big, brick building in the middle of it. It looks like haven, like safety—and so she runs, runs with all her might, into that safety.

The rain is pounding so hard now.

When she reaches the building, she turns left, then right, then stops for a while, to catch her breath. It is as dark as outside, and she wonders if she made the right decision by coming here at all.

I know where you are...

She freezes at the sound, tears on her eyes.

Come out...

The fog comes.

The darkness turns chilly.

...he’s here.

Don’t hide...

She hides in a corner, and tries not to breathe, tries not to make a sound. She is safe here, she is safe, she will not be harmed, and—


Mama, help me!!

Like an invisible clutch, someone comes.

But it is not her mama.

It’s the monster, and he is looking at her now, and his eyes are terrifying, and so is his grin. He is pulling her, dragging her, tearing her skin even as she is all over the floor and digging her nails on the marble, even as she is screaming and crying and begging him to stop.

He would never stop.

You’re mine now, baby girl.

And she knows this time, because she managed to give him a challenge, by running away like that...the punishment would be harsher.

Don’t fight it.


Don' t fucking fight it.


In a last burst of energy, she fights—and she manages to kick him, and scramble away.

She runs again.

She runs into the corners, into the hallways, into the darkness, away from him. She runs.

She stumbles, and falls down. More bruises now, and—

There are footsteps.

Before she knows it, arms are dragging her up, and pulling her into another corner, and clamping a hand on her mouth, as she whimpers again, and trembles, and makes a move to shout.

There is a voice talking.

“Hey, shh. Quiet.”

Through the panic, and the fear, she realizes it is not the voice of the monster.


She stills, when she hears footsteps from afar, coming nearer, and sees the shadow of the one she fears coming closer, closer...

The hand tightens around her whimpers.

The monster doesn’t see her.

The hand on her mouth loosens, as the shadow vanishes—for a while. She looks up, and for the first time, doesn’t see the cruel, evil eyes that she had always been familiar with.

These dark gray eyes glisten with promise. This young, kind face gives her hope.

Silently, he picks her up, and walks out of the building—and she starts shaking in his arms.

He soothes her with his voice.


He protects her with his touch.

“You’ll be okay now."

...he entrances her with his eyes.

"I promise."

Shaking harder than before, she clutches onto his shirt, and looks at him. Just looks at him.

“W-who are y-you?” she whispers, eyes wide, lips quivering.

He smiles.

It is beautiful.

“I’m just a regular guy.”

She doesn’t believe him, of course she doesn't...but she still feels safe. Lulled, exhausted, she sighs, and buries her head into his warm chest.

“What’s your name, little girl?”

She yawns, and lets him hold her closer.


Then she falls into a long, peaceful sleep.

Thank you, mama.



Her eyes snap open—and for a while, Sara stares at the ceiling and contemplates the dream she had just had.

There it goes again. The same dream. Like an image that’s frozen inside her head...she can never seem to stop seeing him.

Her guardian angel.


And like the image of him, the reality never stops, too.

Sara stands up from where she is lying on the makeshift mattress, despite the bruises, and the pain, and the agony in between her legs and all over her body that has been abused so much, used so much.

There is no forest. There is no haven.

“He will come,” she says to the monster, defiance in her eyes. Determination.

And the monster—with those blurry and hungry eyes, and that cruel, crazed smile—takes off his clothes, and comes closer. He smells of stink, and alcohol...and darkness.

Her father has a knife in his hand now.

“Shut up and be mine now, baby girl."


"Don't fight it."


 "This will be the last time...I promise.”

And indeed, it is a promise that will be kept.

And Sara knows there is no guardian angel from mama to save her this time.


...why didn't you help me?

Tags: brigit's flame, cycle, stories, there it goes
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