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Post by Simon Montague on Sept 8, 2016 18:43:02 GMT -5
Simon had seen her before. She was complex. Like a puzzle where none of the pieces fit the way they were supposed to. Deliciously broken was the term and Simon couldn't resist. She would be a masterpiece when he finished with her.
And unlike his other victims - so far - Rose was long term. It would take something special to break her - to shatter her. The thing about damaged people, they knew how to survive. But Rose wouldn't want to after Simon was finished with her.
He was strangely entranced by her unconscious grace. He normally preferred blondes and younger than Rose, much younger. But he wanted Rose. He'd have her.
It was a Sunday. He knew she'd be there on Sundays, a little digging and he had discovered quite a bit about the woman, and the man she visited regularly.
He had been going to the cemetery the past four weekends becoming a "regular" in his own right. Each time he had seen her but never once approached her. Today that would change.
After arranging a little vandalism the night before he waited to see her reaction from his hidden spot in the trees.
Her father's grave was desecrated. Ravaged. The ground had been dug through and the headstone smashed. It wasn't the only grave to suffer, but to Simon it was the only one that mattered.
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Post by Rose Faulkner on Sept 9, 2016 14:51:13 GMT -5
She looked forward to Sundays every week. Just like when she was a child, she cherished these days with her father, even though he was not physically present any longer. In her mind, he was there with her in spirit, and she could be herself. There was nothing to hold her back, no one to bother her or expect anything from her. She would spend hours at her father's gravesite, talking to him about anything and everything on her mind. Her fears, her dreams, her wishes, her likes, and dislikes. It never occurred to her that anyone was watching her or listening to her words.
Today she had stopped at Brighton beach and gathered some seashells and sand, along with some fish and chips and a big bottle of butterbeer, so that she could pretend that she was at the beach with her father. She was actually in a very good mood, feeling very upbeat and hopeful for a change. Daddy-daughter day usually did that for her. While she was sad that her father couldn't actually be with her, there was something healing in it for her, like a kind of therapy.
As she entered the gates of the cemetery, she walked with a soft sway, almost as if she was dancing to some sort of music only she could hear. She had her eyes partly closed as she walked, since she knew the path by heart. Because of this, she did not see the destruction that awaited her until she came to a stop in front of her father's grave and opened her eyes.
Immediately, she let out a blood-curdling scream and dropped everything she was holding onto the paved walkway. She felt sick, horrified, like she had just been punched in the stomach. The headstone had been smashed, and the earth had been turned up, leaving clumps of grass and broken flowers matted down beneath black earth. Her knees gave out, and she fell into the dirt, sobbing hysterically as she grabbed clumps of dirt and grass in her hands, trying in vain to smooth them down.
How could someone do this? Why? She couldn't breathe and was beginning to hyperventilate. "WHY?" she shrieked, as if someone might answer. "Help, someone, please!"
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Post by Simon Montague on Sept 9, 2016 16:38:07 GMT -5
It was beautiful, Simon thought. Like crushing a flower beneath a boot. Every moment played out in slow motion. The horror in her eyes as she realized the destruction, the loss of control as the precious items slipped from her fingers, the way her features came together as she screamed, it was pure ecstasy to Simon.
He took a photograph so he could savor the moment later as well.
Even her shrieking - which carried a faint whine - was like music to his ears. If Simon were capable of it he might have fallen in love with her then and there, her agony was exquisite. She had never been more beautiful to him.
Simon's enjoyment was so deep it was almost difficult for him to school his features into a look of concern and then horror as he came upon her.
"There now...just breathe." he said putting strong arms around her letting her lean on him if need be. "You're alright, I've got you."
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Post by Rose Faulkner on Sept 11, 2016 16:17:30 GMT -5
It didn't matter who it was. It could have literally been anyone--even her stupid brother--and Rose would have clung to them, sobbing as though her heart had been shattered into a million pieces. Because it had. And in such a moment as that, any anchor, any warm body, would have been a comfort. She had no way of knowing that the person she clung to was the very one responsible for the anguish she was currently experiencing.
Rose didn't have many friends. If she was honest, she would say she probably didn't really have any at all. Sure, there were a few people she "hung out" with, people who were there for drinks and dancing and fun. And she did like those things--anything to distract her from the pain of everyday existence. But there wasn't really anyone she could really talk to, anyone she could turn to for advice or comfort or to just talk to. No one except her father. Anyone else might have thought this was a lonely, empty existence, when your only true confidant was a cold gravestone and a silent patch of dirt. But it had been enough for Rose, at least, so she had convinced herself.
But seeing the destruction, the desiccation, it was like losing her father all over again. The pain felt as real and as fresh as it had on the day her mother had sat her down to tell her the terrible news. She had been destroyed that day, and she had never really recovered. Now she felt that same way all over again, and she had no idea that things would soon become much, much worse, long before they would get better.
She had no idea how long she cried. It felt like an eternity, like a whole lifetime of agony had passed in that time. It was a very long time before she was even able to regain enough of her senses to realize that she was actually holding on to someone, and that someone was speaking softly to her.
Slowly, she re-entered the world, her sobs subsiding gradually. Her voice was all but gone, and her nose and throat hopelessly clogged. Her eyes felt raw and she seemed to have run out of tears. She went still for a while, still clinging to whomever it was, as her breathing began to return to normal.
Finally, at last, she pulled back, looking up to face the man who had come to her aid.
"Th-thank you," she whispered. "I... I don't know who you are, but thank you. I just... I saw the destruction and I lost it. This... this is my father's grave."
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Post by Simon Montague on Sept 11, 2016 16:55:44 GMT -5
Her reaction was better than anything he could have hoped for. The pure anguish she was feeling at his work made him wish he were filming instead of holding her , but he'd carry the memories with him forever.
It was with those thoughts, and the thought of how she would feel at his endgame when she realized that he was responsible, he was able to stomach the gentle comfort he offered her. Brushing his large hands up and down her back, and soothing her as she cried, all the while promising everything would be alright.
"I understand, completely." he said still holding her, "My mother's grave was ravaged too. I don't know what kind of monster could do this." he said his arms tightening just a bit. "There should have been some kind of spell in place to keep this from happening." he said just as angry as she was devastated, for a moment he looked dangerous, deadly, and showed a hint of the "bad boy" within, but he softened when he looked at her. It was an expression so warm on an already handsome face, and it seemed like it was just for her.
"We'll fix this." he promised, "And whoever's responsible will pay."
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Post by Rose Faulkner on Sept 12, 2016 17:04:46 GMT -5
It had not occurred to Rose that other people's graves might have also been desecrated. She had not looked around at all, so focused had she been on herself and her own suffering. She was horribly selfish, she realized. Who was she to think she was the only one grieving?
"Oh, I'm so sorry. I hadn't noticed," she said, brushing at her eyes and looking around the cemetery. Indeed, other graves had been ravaged. It almost looked like an earthquake had come through.
She then turned and got her first really good look at the man who had come to her aid. He was handsome, in a mysterious sort of way, with light brown hair and hooded blue eyes. She found herself blushing and smiling through her tears. It was safe to say it was love at first sight.
"I'm Rose. Rose Faulkner. What's your name? Which grave is your mother's?"
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Post by Simon Montague on Sept 12, 2016 18:47:18 GMT -5
"You have nothing to apologize for." he answered still looking around at the damage before turning his eyes on her. He mirrored her expression.
It was so easy for him. Everything in his life had come easily to him, but people most of all. He saw who they were, what they needed, what was in their minds. An objective psychiatrist might have labeled him a sociopath, he had no real identity so adapting to whatever identity he needed came easily to him.
"I'm Dr. Montague...but I prefer Simon." he answered his concerned expression melting into something warm as he looked at her.
"She's over there, by the tree." he said his chin thrusting in the direction of another disturbed grave.
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Post by Rose Faulkner on Sept 17, 2016 18:18:20 GMT -5
"It's nice to meet you, Simon," Rose said, flashing her most charming smile.
She was dazzled by him. He was the kind of guy who normally wouldn't even notice someone like her. He was a doctor, so he was obviously smart and sophisticated. It was a little intimidating for Rose, who really wasn't all that good at social situations. She would go out and meet people, hang out at the club and even go home with whatever random guy happened to show an interest in her. But when it came to real, meaningful connections with other people... this was not something she was good at. Her last close relationship was with her father, and when he died, she never really was able to reach out to another person for a deep, close relationship.
But Simon's presence here, she couldn't help but think, was a sign. Like he was personally sent by her father to comfort her. Yes, that was it... he was a gift from her father. She couldn't let a gift like this get away.
"I know I must look a wreck, but... do you want to go get some coffee or something? Or a drink?"
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Post by Simon Montague on Sept 17, 2016 23:31:06 GMT -5
"Likewise Ms. Faulkner." he said formally in a warm tone. His formal manner, while truly a part of the person he played in the "outside" world, was also a ploy to differentiate him from the usual men who tried to pick her up. He knew that she had rarely - if ever - been treated as a lady. He could distinctly remember some schlub at the bar calling her "Rosie" after one too many drinks. He would be different. He would charm her. He would break down her defenses, possess her soul, and crush any lingering happiness or light from within.
The thought gave him such a quick jolt of pleasure, luckily she had asked him for a drink at the same time so his reaction was easily played off, " Actually Ms. Faulkner, I was afraid of being too forward given the circumstances, but if you would permit me, I would love to take you to dinner."
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Post by Rose Faulkner on Sept 20, 2016 21:56:09 GMT -5
No one ever took Rose out to dinner. Rose had never even been on a date before, not really. Guys didn’t think of her as the “dinner at a nice restaurant” kind of girl. She was the girl you bought a drink for and then offered to “walk home,” which was just a euphemism for a one-night stand. It had been unusually bold for her to even ask him to go for coffee… and now he was upping the ante with dinner? Rose could have fallen over, she was so shocked.
“What, really?” she gasped, her brown eyes widening even more than usual. “I mean… yes! I’d love to go to dinner.”
It was morning still, so that would mean… he would actually pick her up and take her out. She’d have to find a pretty dress to wear… She didn’t really have anything too fancy, but maybe she could borrow something from one of the girls downstairs. Eleanor and Nora usually had nice clothes and were close to her size.
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Post by Simon Montague on Sept 20, 2016 22:21:29 GMT -5
He chuckled when she appeared surprised, and then as if he realized he was still holding her he straightened, "Here now, let's see what we can do about setting things to rights."
He got to his feet, lifting her as well in strong capable arms. He held her a moment longer, "Are you alright?" he asked, checking if she was alright to stand.
Removing his wand he began repairing the grave sites, beginning with her fathers.
"I'm going to have a long talk with the security here. This was unacceptable." He bent down to gather the things she had dropped.
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Post by Rose Faulkner on Sept 25, 2016 21:42:49 GMT -5
Rose felt her cheeks flush as he lifted her up. He was so strong, so capable, so confident. He reminded her of her father.
In the past she had never really known anyone else like her father. The sort of crowd she usually ran with didn’t really mix with guys like him. This man was a gentleman, and the very idea that he might like her was thrilling and exciting for Rose. Even her crush on Lord Voldemort couldn’t even compare to what she was feeling right now.
“I think I’m OK,” she said, standing steadily now. She watched as he waved his wand, repairing her father’s gravesite, and then all of the others. It really felt to Rose like he was a literal knight in shining armor.
“I’m not sure what I would have done if you hadn’t come along. I might have just lain there on the ground all day.”
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Post by Simon Montague on Oct 3, 2016 2:28:26 GMT -5
"Oh I believe you're much stronger than you know Ms. Faulkner. This would devastate anyone. I know I was devastated myself." he assured her. He let his hand linger on the small of her back, it was an intimate but respectful gesture as she got her bearings.
He appeared reluctant, " I'd like to make sure you're alright otherwise, you hit the ground pretty hard and you may be injured."
Essentially, still exuding the utmost of charm and respectability, he was asking to examine her as a doctor might.
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Post by Rose Faulkner on Oct 7, 2016 22:24:14 GMT -5
Rose felt so much safer in his strong, capable arms. She liked the feel of his hand on the small of her back, and she liked the way he was so concerned for her well-being. She had no way of knowing that it was all a lie. To her, he was the consummate gentleman, and for someone like Rose who had known so few gentlemen in her life, it felt safe and comforting to know that there were men like him who treated women with respect.
“I think I’m all right,” she said, blushing slightly. “My knee is a little sore, though.”
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Post by Simon Montague on Oct 8, 2016 2:40:35 GMT -5
He led her to a nearby bench and paused to let her sit down before getting on one knee. He brought a smaller satchel to the bench and used his wand to make it bigger then opened his medical bag removing some ointment and medical tape.
"May I?" he asked gesturing toward her leg.
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Post by Rose Faulkner on Oct 9, 2016 18:40:07 GMT -5
“Yeah, I… uh, yes, of course,” Rose said. It was strange, he was so well-spoken that she felt she had to speak differently than from the usual type of guys she hung out with. Really, he was well out of her league, normally, but the fact that they had shared a similar trauma seemed to help give them more of a connection. She’d be a fool to let him slip away just because she wasn’t as well-mannered as he was. She would try her best to be what she thought he would want her to be.
She extended her leg, the one that she had landed on hardest when she dropped to the pavement, and let him examine it quietly. She wanted to ask him questions, about what had made him become a doctor, and what had happened to his mother, but she stayed mute for now, just kind of watching him in awe.
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Post by Simon Montague on Oct 10, 2016 1:35:30 GMT -5
He lifted her dress lightly just above her knee, his fingertips skimmed over her skin, but he was careful to be respectful.
He paid close attention to her knee, but his movements were slower, almost intimate. He used the salve and lightly traced circles where she had scraped skin. He then used the bandage to wrap her knee.
"You'll be good as new in a few hours." he informed her with a gentle smile.
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Post by Rose Faulkner on Oct 24, 2016 12:03:14 GMT -5
Perhaps if Rose had been taught to expect this kind of treatment from men, she might not have been fooled by this one. her father had died when she was so young, and her mother had been too busy with her younger siblings to really teach Rose how to value herself, and to demand respect for men. As such, Rose had been looking for father figures all her life, developing crushes on inappropriate people like professors and even Lord Voldemort himself. She sought comfort in the arms of men who did not offer it, and in the end it left her with low expectations for men. She had long ago accepted that men like her father were the exception, rather than the rule. And now, here she had just happened upon another exception, and she could only believe that her father had sent him to her.
How many men had feigned concern for her, then put their hands up her skirt? But Simon didn't do that. He was gentle and respectful, and she was sure that he had healed her just with his gentle touch.
"Thank you," she said. "You're a really good doctor."
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Post by Simon Montague on Oct 24, 2016 19:43:21 GMT -5
"Not really good, perhaps just a little good." he smiled getting to his feet, he offered her his hand so she could stand up.
"I'm headed to the groundskeeper to have a talk with them about the graves, but you came here to be with someone, and I don't want to take up anymore of your time. Like I said, I know it's incredibly forward of me to ask at such a time, but is there someway I might be able to get a hold of you, that I might take you to dinner?"
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Post by Rose Faulkner on Oct 24, 2016 22:19:46 GMT -5
And he was humble, too! It was honestly like someone had taken a checklist of the perfect man and put it all together into one man. Handsome, professional, a doctor, well-spoken, kind, caring, gentle, polite, humble... he seemed to have it all. To say that Rose was falling a little more in love with him every second would not have been an exaggeration.
She blushed at his question, wondering to herself when the last time she had blushed before today had been. He made her feel flushed and excited, and yet comfortable and safe all at the same time.
"I live in the Black Cat Apartments, Room 410. Just down the road a little ways."
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