Dark Country
My love is vengeance that is never free...
- Joined
- Feb 16, 2019
- Location
- In bed
Alexander Keith Hamilton- The Author
January 4th, 2020
7:00 AM
Scandalously attractive steely-grey eyes stared up at a white stucco ceiling as he lay still and silent in his bed...alone. The king-sized sleigh bed seemed so empty without Katlyn's body curled up in one of his oversized white-button up dress shirts; no bra just black panties. She generally would take up the middle of the bed despite her five-foot-six stature. He could always easily have moved her, she only weighed one-hundred twenty pounds. She was a petite thing--cuddly as hell. Rainier or 'Alex' as he preferred to be called outstretched on muscular arm across the empty side of the bed. It felt so lonely without her cold hands grasping and raking his bare, muscled chest. Two years, and could still remember the way she'd wake up and nuzzle their noses together right before she kissed him lightly upon his lips He could still remember the taste...it was a sweet as honey to the tastebuds and as smooth melted chocolate to the touch. Her long platinum blonde hair would fall against the sides of her face and he would always entwine his fingers in it...
He thought he could do it until time stopped...but when that moment came, when time did indeed stop, everything had utterly changed for Rainier.
When he looked over at Katlyn's slumped head, resting against the crumpled door frame, head bleeding he remembered the panic he felt--as he felt it now. The powerlessness, the drive to do the impossible. That pressure was rising in his chest again; he was sinking, being dragged under the tides of pain the washed over him like the ocean crashing vehemently against a moor. His outstretched arm came to lay across his face, covering his damaged features; scars that hid dark memories--memories that haunted him like nightmares. Tears began to flow freely as his hands covered his face and he sobbed--crying out her name as he had that night. The night time stopped for him. The intense pain in his left leg didn't seem to dissuade him from the vision of him calling at out Katlyn's name repeated as he unbuckled his seatbelt and attempted to open the smashed, pulverized driver side door that, like a wall that barred him, wouldn't budge.
Rainier remembered swearing and cursing; his leg wasn't budging either. Neither was his left arm for that matter. He pleaded, he begged; he cried and bawled like aq helpless child until...until it all faded to black. In the weeks that followed Katlyn and their newly conceived blessing had perished from the moment of impact; the 4x4 F350 had slammed into them so hard it had totaled Rainier's Mercedes-Benz by flipping it over, and over, and over down an embankment. The firefighters had to use heavy machinery just to cut away prions od the car just access it and pull Katlyn and himself free--but the drunk driver that had so abruptly ended two people's lives, and left another crippled--possibly for life--walked away uninjured. Just scratches and bruises.
The last thing that Rainier remembered seeing before he would awaken four weeks later unable to use the left side of his body from his neck down--was Katlyn's body being lifted up above the seats of their car and carried by a crew of four to the journey. Then, four weeks later, he awoke. He didn't care about the severe aching pains on his left side--of the sheer agony of what felt like obsidian shards piercing his skull; something he'd always have to live with now. Just another reminder, just another thing to help him not forget what was once so perfect in every way could not be without great cost. The alarm clock blared and blared, signaling it was time to get up and face yet another day without Katlyn's smile, her grace, or the serenity she had brought to him. He'd have to forgo all that now and face the days ahead alone.
Sitting up on the side of the bed, Rainer winced badly as the screws in his joints twisted and turned the joints; the metal rods in the ulna of his forearm and his tibula of where his shin bone used to be, ached incessantly. He pressed his good hand to the memory foam mattress and 'pushed' himself into an upright standing position. He felt like a man 60-years older than he should be as he shuffled across the dark cherry-stained wooden floor. His Great Dane named 'Bandit' was a Blue--it was really more of a dark bluish-gray color. Katlyn had gotten Rainier for his 31st birthday. The dog was playful, friendly--but protective. Yet, Bandit could somehow tell someone's nature or intentions. So even strangers who he never met, he'd be okay with some--with others he'd make it well known they were not welcome.
After feeding Bandit, Rainier sought new clothes to wear; he picked out a gray plaid shirt, a dark-colored tank top, and black dress slacks. He then set off to warm up the water for a shower. Turning the handle to the glass enclosure, he then reached and turned the knob for the shower which hissed and sprayed water down from the ceiling. He hung up his clothes, stepped over to the sink and the two mirrors. They showed two different people; two very different people. A man, aged 35 years with one side of his face slightly drooping from a broken cheekbone looked tired; the bright exuberance burned away from his eye--the other had more noble features; a high risen cheekbone, a narrowing jawline that tapered to a narrow but rounded point. His right eye carried with a flame, a desire--there had to be something more than this deprived life of loneliness...
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San Fransico, California
Healthsprings Support Center
January 3rd, 2020
8:00 AM
Leaving Bandit to watch the house, pressing the keypad to unlock the doors and start the engine to his BMW M850i xDrive Coupe; the vehicle was sleek in design, well-rounded at all the right angles to make it a highly stylized work of art--a twin-turbocharged, all-wheel-drive 523-hp engine. He slid the key into the ignition and pulled into reverse, swerved around the roundabout in front of his two-story homestead, and set off for the clinic. It was 7:30 AM, and he'd make it there by 8 AM--give or take traffic conditions which turned out a bit lighter than he had imagined so he was a bit early. He locked his car as he got out, taking his cane with him as he lumbered to the door. He signed in at the front desk; giving his license, and his other credentials such as medicare cards; he was a best selling book author so using his real name came in handy as he went by Rainier Ashton Bernhardt as a pen name--so no one would know who he really was.
January 4th, 2020
7:00 AM
Scandalously attractive steely-grey eyes stared up at a white stucco ceiling as he lay still and silent in his bed...alone. The king-sized sleigh bed seemed so empty without Katlyn's body curled up in one of his oversized white-button up dress shirts; no bra just black panties. She generally would take up the middle of the bed despite her five-foot-six stature. He could always easily have moved her, she only weighed one-hundred twenty pounds. She was a petite thing--cuddly as hell. Rainier or 'Alex' as he preferred to be called outstretched on muscular arm across the empty side of the bed. It felt so lonely without her cold hands grasping and raking his bare, muscled chest. Two years, and could still remember the way she'd wake up and nuzzle their noses together right before she kissed him lightly upon his lips He could still remember the taste...it was a sweet as honey to the tastebuds and as smooth melted chocolate to the touch. Her long platinum blonde hair would fall against the sides of her face and he would always entwine his fingers in it...
He thought he could do it until time stopped...but when that moment came, when time did indeed stop, everything had utterly changed for Rainier.
When he looked over at Katlyn's slumped head, resting against the crumpled door frame, head bleeding he remembered the panic he felt--as he felt it now. The powerlessness, the drive to do the impossible. That pressure was rising in his chest again; he was sinking, being dragged under the tides of pain the washed over him like the ocean crashing vehemently against a moor. His outstretched arm came to lay across his face, covering his damaged features; scars that hid dark memories--memories that haunted him like nightmares. Tears began to flow freely as his hands covered his face and he sobbed--crying out her name as he had that night. The night time stopped for him. The intense pain in his left leg didn't seem to dissuade him from the vision of him calling at out Katlyn's name repeated as he unbuckled his seatbelt and attempted to open the smashed, pulverized driver side door that, like a wall that barred him, wouldn't budge.
Rainier remembered swearing and cursing; his leg wasn't budging either. Neither was his left arm for that matter. He pleaded, he begged; he cried and bawled like aq helpless child until...until it all faded to black. In the weeks that followed Katlyn and their newly conceived blessing had perished from the moment of impact; the 4x4 F350 had slammed into them so hard it had totaled Rainier's Mercedes-Benz by flipping it over, and over, and over down an embankment. The firefighters had to use heavy machinery just to cut away prions od the car just access it and pull Katlyn and himself free--but the drunk driver that had so abruptly ended two people's lives, and left another crippled--possibly for life--walked away uninjured. Just scratches and bruises.
The last thing that Rainier remembered seeing before he would awaken four weeks later unable to use the left side of his body from his neck down--was Katlyn's body being lifted up above the seats of their car and carried by a crew of four to the journey. Then, four weeks later, he awoke. He didn't care about the severe aching pains on his left side--of the sheer agony of what felt like obsidian shards piercing his skull; something he'd always have to live with now. Just another reminder, just another thing to help him not forget what was once so perfect in every way could not be without great cost. The alarm clock blared and blared, signaling it was time to get up and face yet another day without Katlyn's smile, her grace, or the serenity she had brought to him. He'd have to forgo all that now and face the days ahead alone.
Sitting up on the side of the bed, Rainer winced badly as the screws in his joints twisted and turned the joints; the metal rods in the ulna of his forearm and his tibula of where his shin bone used to be, ached incessantly. He pressed his good hand to the memory foam mattress and 'pushed' himself into an upright standing position. He felt like a man 60-years older than he should be as he shuffled across the dark cherry-stained wooden floor. His Great Dane named 'Bandit' was a Blue--it was really more of a dark bluish-gray color. Katlyn had gotten Rainier for his 31st birthday. The dog was playful, friendly--but protective. Yet, Bandit could somehow tell someone's nature or intentions. So even strangers who he never met, he'd be okay with some--with others he'd make it well known they were not welcome.
After feeding Bandit, Rainier sought new clothes to wear; he picked out a gray plaid shirt, a dark-colored tank top, and black dress slacks. He then set off to warm up the water for a shower. Turning the handle to the glass enclosure, he then reached and turned the knob for the shower which hissed and sprayed water down from the ceiling. He hung up his clothes, stepped over to the sink and the two mirrors. They showed two different people; two very different people. A man, aged 35 years with one side of his face slightly drooping from a broken cheekbone looked tired; the bright exuberance burned away from his eye--the other had more noble features; a high risen cheekbone, a narrowing jawline that tapered to a narrow but rounded point. His right eye carried with a flame, a desire--there had to be something more than this deprived life of loneliness...
=======================================================================================================
San Fransico, California
Healthsprings Support Center
January 3rd, 2020
8:00 AM
Leaving Bandit to watch the house, pressing the keypad to unlock the doors and start the engine to his BMW M850i xDrive Coupe; the vehicle was sleek in design, well-rounded at all the right angles to make it a highly stylized work of art--a twin-turbocharged, all-wheel-drive 523-hp engine. He slid the key into the ignition and pulled into reverse, swerved around the roundabout in front of his two-story homestead, and set off for the clinic. It was 7:30 AM, and he'd make it there by 8 AM--give or take traffic conditions which turned out a bit lighter than he had imagined so he was a bit early. He locked his car as he got out, taking his cane with him as he lumbered to the door. He signed in at the front desk; giving his license, and his other credentials such as medicare cards; he was a best selling book author so using his real name came in handy as he went by Rainier Ashton Bernhardt as a pen name--so no one would know who he really was.
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