Artemis Drifting

Just because she tippietoes, doesn't mean she's a creepin'.

And she’s got a blind fold on, three miles high.

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Her pulse visibly jackhammered in her gaunt stomach, shuddering beneath her navel. Moving her hand from her chest to her belly, she pushed her fingertips against her flesh and down onto her aorta. She was fuckin’ disappointed that it didn’t beat out some sort of morse-code solution to her problem.


Then there was movement against her back. Ah. Right. Her. Dessie rolled her head back until it came into contact with a well muscled shoulder. “You know.” she lifted her hand into the air, studying the backs of her grimy and ragged nails. “If any of us had to be awake, somehow, I didn’t expect this combination.”


“Shut up.” Jaha growled, tightening her arms around her knees. The skinny bitch behind her was digging into her back with her spine. Glaring sullenly at the filthy concrete between her feet, she took note for the umpteenth time the metal wrapped around her ankles. “At least you ain’t chained down.”


Dessie bit down on a sharp edge of her nail, worrying at it with her teeth, tasting the salt on her flesh and mouthing the earthy-grit that escaped. “Well, that’s because you’re a psychotic cunt.” she offered helpfully. 


Jaha twisted her arm back, jabbing her elbow into the other woman’s side. Flesh so thin, she’d she was pulverizing the withered muscles beneath to mush. The effort only earned her a whining keen, but no attempt to wiggle away. “Lay off. You know why. You’ll tear into her, and anyone else that gets in a fuckin’ five hundred yard radius. Then there’s the matter of putting you back.”


“This time is different, you abuse lovin’ twig. I’m justified. There’s evidence. Not that I don’t mind gettin’ mad for no damn reason, but I sure as hell don’t like being told I can’t do my job.” Jaha snarled, jerking her elbow away. For a moment, she could almost swear that Dessie had been grinding back against the sharp edge of her limb.


A long sigh that was deep enough to be interpreted as a groan answered her for a few moments. Jaha was just about to go back to her stewing when Dessie spoke up again. “Ah, you silly sociopath – don’t you get it? She knows she’s owed her pound of flesh, but she doesn’t think she deserves it.”


“Can we go back to the shuttin’ your mouth thing?” Jaha interrupted. She felt like breaking her neck with the chain. Not that it’d do much good.


Dessie shook her head, reaching up to pull on the ends of her hair. “You’ll see.”


The chains clattered as Jaha jerked herself forward, sending Dessie sprawling to the floor. Hopping to her feet, she kicked her leg back and tested the strength of the steel. It rattled across the floor, and she felt no weakness, not yet, amongst the links. “Let me tell you somethin’ – the wench won’t see it comin’ .. and She won’t know it until it’s damn too late – her mouth is gonna open an’ I’m going to come crawlin’ on out. She can’t bite this .. she can’t bite me back forever.”


There was no effort made to recover from being knocked to the floor. Dessie stretched across the concrete belly down, letting the cold ground grate on her ribs. “When did you start giving a shit?”


“Since I realized I could be of use. It ain’t just blood on the water this time. I’m going to make her hurt real bad, like she ain’t ever been hurt before. No one fucks around with the girl like this. When this chain snaps, the nice gloves are comin’ off.”


Dessie closed her eyes, relishing the cool surface. Jaha’s rants continued, promised torments, impossible actions, and sick revenge. Arching her back, she pushed her stomach against the floor, wondering if each time her blood rushed through that artery – the tempature would drop bit by bit. Better than this damn cold skin, hot blood – she’d rather match.


One Response

  1. I very much like this blog. Yet time I will come here

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