WouldnÕt Change a Thing
Jo Baynes
Disclaimers: This story & its characters belong to me. Get down on your knees and beg and I *might* let you play with Ôem. Violence: Yes. Sex: Not this time around, sorry folks. There is obvious love between two chicks though.
Thank you KW for tidying this up for me.
There could possibly be a sequel but I donÕt know yet. Actually, if anything this would probably be more of a prequel.
Feel free to e-mail me and let me know what yaÕll think of my hard work. Bayne_jynx@yahoo.com
(Hard work? What hard work, Joey? Or did it really give ya a migraine ta string those sentences together?)
+IÕll be sure to keep that in mind for the next time you ask me to do something for you, K+
Well, now that the peanut gallery has been heard from, please enjoy. And if you want, take a moment and visit mine and KWÕs site @ http://rebel-by-choice.tripod.com
Sirens filled the air and flashing red, white and blue lights filtered through the blinds on the window, silhouetting the woman standing several feet away. None of this registered with RJ as she stared sightlessly at the scene before her with wide eyes. Her heart was pounding and her body trembled violently as she sucked in loud erratic breaths. Each beat of her heart was accompanied by images the past few hours had seared into her memory.
*Flash* RJÕs best friendÕs cherubic face streaked with tears... Her eyes bloodshot from the flood of emotions and her face flush from crying... The small voice pleaded with her not to leave... Hands clutched feebly at her shirt and pulled her impossibly closer.
*Flash* Lurid purple stood out in stark relief against creamy white skinÉ RJÕs fingers trembled as she gently traced the large bruise spanning the width of WhitneyÕs back... A choked sob escaped when she heard her friend whimper in pain... Was that really her voice begging for this to all be a sick dream?
*Flash* Long fingers parted strawberry blond hair... Ragged gasps filled the room as antiseptics were applied to the sluggishly bleeding gash on the back of her friendÕs head... Whispered words of apologies tumbled from lips like a waterfall into a pool each time a pained sound escaped bruised lips.
*Flash* She picked up the pile of soiled clothing and tossed them into the trash bag in her handÉ She turned to leave and suddenly stopped when a scrap of white cloth caught her attention... She glanced down at the bathroom floor and bent to retrieve the item when she realized it was WhitneyÕs panties... She absently noticed specks of blood and thought nothing of it until she recalled her friendÕs worry about being pregnant.
*Flash* A driving rage so fierce in its intensity that WhitneyÕs pleading never fully reached her as she dug through the closet shelfÉ Her hand brushed a gunmetal lockbox behind an old comforter she never used... She felt the cool metal beneath her palm and the old thrill that had once been her only companion set her blood on fire.
*Flash* She inserted the key into the lock with an unsteady hand and turned it, listening intently for the nearly inaudible ÔsnickÕ when the lock releasedÉ The scent of gun polish and gun powder filled her nostrils as she inhaled sharplyÉ Her fingertips tingled as she wrapped her hand around the handgrip of a Glock 31É The familiar feel of her favorite gun in her hand made her smile grimly.
*Flash* His muddy brown eyes nearly crossed as he gazed up the black barrel pressed between his eyesÉ Tears trailed down his cheeks and the stench of urine clung to the humid airÉ Dead calm filled her as she coolly described what she wanted to do to him in graphic detailÉ What she would do to himÉ A chilling smile caused him to visibly tremble in terror and she finished in a husky, seductive tone, ÒIÕll hear you screaming for redemption before this night is over, Kyle.Ó
*FlashÓ Hot crimson sprayed upward and out and then rained down upon herÉ Ragged breathing filled the room which was suddenly silent for the first time in hoursÉ A metallic tang weighed heavily on the back of her tongueÉ The odor of death burned in her nostrilsÉ
The Glock dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers and hit the stained tan carpet with a dull ÔthudÕ. Her legs gave out and she collapsed to the floor, landing on her hands and knees with a grunt of surprise. She stayed there for long moments, even when the noise of the approaching emergency personnel registered. She pushed the gun away and straightened so she was kneeling and then brought her hands up behind her head to intertwine her fingers at the base of her neck.
RJ was waiting in the same place when the police arrived. They led her outside after theyÕd handcuffed her and read her the Miranda rights. As they were leading her toward the cop car, RJ glanced at the crowd gathering on WhitneyÕs front lawn. Would she be present or was she too angry to care?
As the cop guided her into the backseat RJ spotted the small blond standing just inside the yellow crime scene tape that sectioned off the property from the general public. Sad green eyes caught and held hers effortlessly and seemed to project equal amounts of sorrow and acceptance. There were other emotions present that RJ couldnÕt even begin to understand as well.
Before the officer shut the car door, RJ gave Whitney a look that said it all. I wouldnÕt change a thing if it meant keeping him from laying a hand on you ever again.
THE END