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Post by ANGELINA MAE DAVIDSON on Dec 12, 2010 2:25:32 GMT -5
 During the deep sleep that Lina was so used to being in, she had the same dream. Each time. She was running, running in an all black scene to a light. A light that always seemed to be right there, but not close enough to reach. Not once did she move, from the moment Pilot wrapped her up to the moment her eyes finally opened, slowly and reluctantly. The sheets were warm and the blinds were shut.
Turning her body slightly sent shivers down her spine, she felt sick to her stomach and her high was completely over. Sitting up, with much struggle she rubbed her head sitting up. Running her shaking hand through her now greasy feeling hair she pushed herself off the bed. She didnt hear anything, comign from outside of inside the room. She looked at her reflection in a large mirror resting in the bedroom. She made a disgusted face, her hair was matted against her face and her makeup was gone.
Tugging at the bottom of her dress to smoothen it out she walked into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. Simply looking at her reflection made herself sick. She ran the water through her hands and ran her hands on her eyes. Turning the water off slowly, she didnt look much better but it was a start. She walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Walking next to the bed she pullled the sheets up making the bed slowly but surely.
Leaving her shoes on the floor next to the bed she walked to the door sliding it open. She looked out in the hall, nothing. Sliding out into the hallway she headed down towards the kitchen and dining area. She first passed the large living room and paused looking at it. It felt cold, not warming or welcoming. She then proceeded to the kitchen where she was met by a tall older gentleman who mumbled something about breakfast.
She replied saying no thanks but he began to explain that she must eat or else he would get in trouble with the 'master'. She simply shrugged him away and grabbd her own cup of orange juice. Sipping it down the liquid burned in the back of her mouth. She heard a noise from the dining room and held the cup close to herself. Walking towards the door way she stopped and stood in the doorway. Sitting at the head of the long table was Pilot.
She let out a sigh and took another sip of her orange juice. Walking into the room she slid into the seat at the other end of the table and looked down, not making eye contact or speaking one word. Unsure of what to say.
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OUTFIT
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Post by PILOT URI FERGUSON on Dec 12, 2010 9:57:14 GMT -5
 He glanced up as he heard her softly shuffling in and then looked back down at the paperwork. Everyone who ever came to his apartment always marveled at how wonderful it was. That it was so unique with it's circular design, open space, and ancient manor type of interior design. He didn't design any of it. Because anyone who knew Pilot knew that as long as there was a simple desk and a chair, he could call it home. Home was work.
Obviously this place was cold. Not actually cold-it felt cold and uninhabited because he put nothing into it. He paid someone a bunch of money to make it look homey but it would never feel homey unless he put in the effort-which he currently wouldn't since he was never here to begin with, "Good afternoon," he said quietly as the butler came in with a plate of pancakes and a tall glass of orange juice, setting it in front of her as if her words meant nothing to him and they obviously didn't. To him, Pilot's word was above all else, "Would you like anything, sir? The usual?" Pilot nodded and the butler disappeared into the kitchen once again. Locking his eyes on to Angelina, he pushed the paper work aside, closing the file he'd been working on, "Pregnant," with that word he was looking down at the solid oak furnishing that was his table, glossy and smooth with not a single imperfection. He stood, walking over to the large ceiling to floor windows that had the thick curtains pulled back to let the sunshine in since he always did prefer it over the large chandelier in the center of the dinning room, "Boy or girl?"
He was looking out at the view as if he were going to give him a sign as to what to do or say, as if it could answer all his pending questions on the tip of his tongue. He turned back around, pacing because of the speed he just took in wonderful pill form until the butler appeared and handed him the three little white pills that would calm him down and a glass of water. He simply dry swallowed them and left the glass of water on the table, "Thank you, Jacques," he said with a nod and the butler disappeared into the darkness of the larger-than-life apartment. After a few moments, Pilot's pacing seemed to ease as the pills seemed to set in and he moved over to Angelina so he wasn't so ridiculously far away from her, "Did you keep 'em? Adoption...?" he didn't want to say the last A word and she must have known he didn't want to because he'd been trying to avoid it. He had this gut wrenching feeling that she did and it made his chest ache with the thought of it. His mother had ever opportunity and was even encouraged to abort him because she'd only been fifteen and they didn't even know who the father was. But she didn't. She stuck through it and when he was older and asked her why, she said it was because she did in fact know who the father was and if she couldn't have him-she could at least have his baby in hopes he'd come back to her someday but he never did. His mother was a naive and immature woman, addicted to plastic surgery, socialite parties, and horse tranquilizers she claimed would help ease the 'pain in her broken heart'. It was why he took them...and why he wished with all his might she didn't abort it...because it meant she didn't want it...a little piece of the two of them into one form-it meant she didn't want him.
99 problems by hugo
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Post by ANGELINA MAE DAVIDSON on Dec 12, 2010 20:27:15 GMT -5
She knew that sooner or later she was going to have to tell him that she aborted the baby, but it worried her. She knew that as much as he would be supportive of her decision, she knew he would be slightly upset on the inside. She looked down at the table running her fingers over the smooth wood pattern. In her mind she flashed back to times at his old place. How they used to sit around the table, chairs next to each other and talk about the future. Drink wine, or beer, and talk about how they wanted to get married and have kids.
It was true, Lina had always wanted kids. She loved them in fact, but at the time, having a baby wasnt on her list. She was a recovering addict and she was actually terrified that the baby would turn out just like her. Addicted. The doctors even told her that there was a 60% chance the baby would either have a defect or wouldnt make it. The cord was wrapped around the neck. Lina felt a tear form and she sniffled it away quickly.
She couldnt expose her emotion to him, not now. When he spoke she looked up and simply nodded, indicating she was wishing him a good afternoon as well. When he walked over to the window she looked over at all the files where he sat. She rubbed her temples, just looking at it made her head hurt. He was business, always had been and always would be. That was one thing she hated about Pilot, somehow no matter what they did, business was involved.
When he finally asked the dreaded question if it was a boy or girl she knew she couldnt lie. She had to tell him, it was now or never. But at this moment she couldnt hold it in. For you see, as much as Lina had to get the abortion she regreted every single second of it. She wanted a baby, and when she first arrived back she slept with multiple people, in attempts of maybe getting pregnant again. She was in denial. When he asked she felt the tears come out, adn this time she couldnt wipe them away.
She burried her face in her hands and felt her body shaking again. Why the fuck was she so emotional. She looked up at him as he approached her, she was now hyperventilating. I...I...dont know she struggled to get the words out. She couldnt bare to face him and tell him. She looked away as she blurted it out. Remember when I said I took care of it? she left it at that, looking to the side, her cheek pressed to her shoulder she felt the tears come worse.
Every second of every day Lina regretted doing that. As much as she had to, she didnt want to. It wouldve been a piece of Pilot, to take with her, wherever she went. She felt herself shaking from all her tears. She finally calmed down but still didnt look at him. Closing her eyes tight she waited for his reaction.
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OUTFIT
BACK TO DECEMBER / T.SWIFT
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Post by PILOT URI FERGUSON on Dec 12, 2010 20:57:42 GMT -5
He found himself angry.
Angry with her. Angry with the situation. Angry with himself. He saw her cry but he let his muscles lock tightly in his jaw as he moved away from her. He didn't look at her. What did he expect? He shouldn't have hoped for her to say the gender much less whether she had at least given it up for adoption. No, she aborted it. Of course. Next time, he wouldn't...he couldn't make this mistake again. It just wasn't in the cards for him. Staying still for a few moments, as quiet as death, he suddenly grabbed the plate of food that remained untouched in front of her and flung it across the room to the opposite wall so it shattered upon the loud impact and fell onto the floor.
But he remained in his same spot, simply grabbing the edge of the table to steady himself because the room was spinning. His hand grabbed tightly onto it, so much his knuckles were as pale as his face had gotten as he looked down at the fine wood, jaw tensed, muscles trembling, and his entire body ready to just give up on him right then and there but he remained in place, like he was suppose to, nostrils flaring a bit as he tried his hardest to remain calm. He'd never been someone for such angry outbursts. Maybe swearing but never really raising his voice or acting out in violence. Again, a tough front for someone who was emotionally exhausted, "Sir?" his butler appeared at his side, ready for the order as a maid entered and easily cleaned up the mess he made but seemed completely shocked, as shocked as the butler, to see such an outburst from him.
"Make sure no one bothers us until tomorrow," he stated firmly as he grabbed Angelina by her upper arm and headed toward the bedroom. Was he going to rape her or beat her? No. But he did want some privacy and if there was one thing that made Pilot always feel better, well, it usually involved the bedroom. He kept telling himself this would be the last time he would let Angelina back into his life and take a hold of him like she always did. But who was he kidding? He was stuck with her whether he liked it or not. The second he reached the bedroom, he picked her up while pushing her against the now closed door and caught her lips roughly into his own, the longing, the power, the raw emotions that flowed through him seemed to make its way through his thick skin and pour itself out into one hell of a passionate kiss as if she might disappear at any given moment. Hell she might. She did it last time, didn't she?
THE SEA IS A GOOD PLACE TO THINK OF THE FUTURE BY LOS CAMPESINOS
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Post by ANGELINA MAE DAVIDSON on Dec 12, 2010 21:19:22 GMT -5
She wanted to scream, from pain, agony, shame but mostly from the pain. The pain that it brought her to think of the abortion. She now felt the same old nauseous feeling she got every time she thought of it. She would cry herself to sleep, well more cry herself to stay awake. For the first month, she never slept. She would take speed to stay awake. She couldnt sleep, sleep was the worst thing she could do, it brought her back to the same place every time. The same nightmare, the same scenario waking up and screaming.
As he approached the table and picked up the plate she felt her body tense up. When he threw it and it shattered she let out a small scream and jumped. Closing her eyes hard and opening them as if it was a dream the tears continued to pour out, she couldnt do it. She couldnt stay here. She had never seen him like this, high, not high, drugged not drugged. Never had she seen him like that. And she never wanted to see him like that.
When the maid appeared in the room she felt as if she was not welcomed. She suddenly wanted to run, run far away. But that was the only thing she was good at, running. She had to stay and face this, wether she wanted to or not. When the cleaning was done she looked at him then back down, he was gripping the table as if that was next to be thrown. She felt terrified, worried and oddly she liked him like this. It was a different side, it scared the shit out of her.
Danger had been something Lina had loved, and this side of Pilot made her crazy inside. She suddenly had to leave, she knew she couldnt stay. She started to turn to go but when he grabbed her arm she winced a bit, the way he grabbed it felt urgent, and yet it hurt a bit. As he was leading her back down the hall she came from she felt her stomach drop and her body went numb. What the fuck was he going to do. She had never seen him this angry, and she was worried. Was he going to hit her? Rape her?
She felt the tears coming and when he pushed her into the room she turned to pour out the apology and admit how much she regretted it but before she could speak she felt her back hitting the shut door. She let out a small grunt. Feeling his lips meet hers it sent tingles up her spine. She hadnt felt his lips for a while, and it sent tingles through her body to her fingertips. She wrapped her arms around his neck, what was going on, she had no idea. Finally pulling away from his lips for air she rested her forehead on his. She knew that he felt as if she was going to run, she could just tell. Im not going anywhere, I promise. She felt herself say through a shaky voice.
She couldnt leave him, not now, not ever. She was hooked.
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OUTFIT
JAR OF HEARTS / CHRISTINA PERRI
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Post by PILOT URI FERGUSON on Dec 12, 2010 21:44:23 GMT -5
When she pulled away to say she promised not to go anywhere, he couldn't help but not believe her. Running away and Angelina seemed to always be in the same sentence. Thus, her words sort of felt like bullshit to him but he wouldn't say that, not now. Because he didn't want to think about that or anything. He wanted to get lost. He needed a break and this would be his break, "Shut up," he told her as if out of breathe before he locked his lips onto her's again with the same urgency. He pulled her body closer to his and then was practically ripping that dress of her's off. He needed this. This was his closure. If she cared about him at all, she'd give him the closure he needed because he was dying for it. Whether it was closure from her or closure from the past but he needed some type of closure. Maybe he needed it to get over his mother, her existence and death. To get over Angelina, the abortion, and all the other problems that came with their drug induced relationship. He never ran away from anything. He always confronted everything head on but it was his turn to run...
So he let his body get carried away and lost within her own, missing her familiar scent and the soft feel of her skin against his. She was right, that if she cut her hair guys would have nothing to hold on to...but he still wanted her to cut it. As a change because God knew they needed it and badly. He let all his pent up anger and frustrations, deep rooted depressions, all out as he molded their bodies to fit as one, as they were suppose to, until they were both physically spent...until she let out that final scream in her climax, until it was over.
He waited until she was asleep again to leave. Out of the apartment, out of the city. Starting over? Maybe. It was a step. She didn't really want him. Hell, if she aborted the only thing that could have possibly kept them together than she obviously didn't want him. He was just an idea of what she wanted. In a way, he knew he was hurting her by sticking around. When she woke up, Jacques, his butler, would tell her he left for an important meeting and that she could take her time getting ready to leave or if she wanted to stay-she was more than welcome to though he highly doubted she would. His place wasn't exactly welcoming. A town car would be ready to take her wherever she desired and if she thought waiting for him would work, she might as well think again. He wasn't going to come back until he was ready because this was step one: separation, relaxation...sleep. For as long as his little black heart desired.
sextape by deftones
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