City Girl's Country Drug. ( Andariel and KingWizard )

[Andariel]

Strobe lights danced against concrete walls, music pulsed through the compound and bodies rubbed aggressively against each other. Sweat glistened against the scantily clad teenagers as the heated night settled, the mixture of the close proximity and their movements adding to the heat as time passed. In one corner by the sewer entrance sat a large truck. It was a dark black escalade with shiny silver rimmed tires. The hatched back was opened and looming over a dark figure.

Blake Frans was born in New York City. His mother had raised him alone and always did the best she could for him, yet working at a hotel as a maid didn’t quite make ends meet. After two years of barely living paycheck to paycheck and eating ramen noodles as a main dish most meals, Amelia Frans changed her career path. Stripping paid so much better than being a maid, and letting men pay for pleasure from her did even better than that. It was easy to say that Blake Frans grew up on the wrong side of the tracks.

His lean body sat, propped against the tail gate of the Escalade, his fingers gripping a credit card, swiping it against a pile of white powder, making thin lines on a flat glass square. Blake’s eyes raised, hearing a soft giggle float against the air just over the load music emitting from his truck. Before him was a girl, her body was thin and her ebony hair was soft and flowing lightly against her shoulders. The girl’s hips shook gently and her hands extended above her, almost as if she were dancing with another. The headlights of the truck shone against her porcelain ink covered skin as well as her face.
If you were close to her, you would be able to see how sunken in her face looked. Thick, puffed, dark pillows sat beneath her eyes, her skin was so faded from it’s old golden glow, and her bright blue eyes had turned a dull grey. Even in such a worn state, she was still beautiful.

Blake stood from the truck, the glass dish in his hand, his black Italian shoes tapping softly against the gravel ground, a devilish grin laced against his face. To say the man was handsome would have been an understatement. He was a classic good looking New York man. His charm shone through anything else though. The man was capable of getting anything he wanted. He was charming, but so dangerous.

“Hemmingway…” He mumbled as he moved in behind the girl, his chest pressed against her thin boney back. Blake’s free hand wrapped around the girls hip, feeling her bones as he set it softly against her lower stomach. Her body was pulled closer to his own, the 22 year old girl parted her raised hands, wrapping them around his neck, tilting her chin up to him. The man watched Hemmingway’s eyes roll back with her every blink, his lips turning into a smirk as his hand raised to her face, the one against her stomach moving to the back of her head, pushing her tilted chin back down.

The plate was pressed to her face, just under her nose. Almost out of instinct, Hemmingway’s hands coming up, one raising to her face, her pointer finger pressing against one of her nostrils before snorting ungracefully. The drug clung to her, flowing down into her lungs, making way into her system. This had obviously not been her first hit of the night and she hadn’t planned on it being her last.

They were the only ones there. Blake knew it perfectly well, yet Hemmingway was convinced the compound was filled with people just like her. Young, excited, and drugged up. The ecstasy in her body though, fooled her mind.

Blake Frans was by no means, a “good man”. In fact, he was a horrible man. As Hemmingway’s body went slack against him, her eyes rolling back for the last time that night, he simply let her fall. The girl’s body fell, in what she would soon find, was a very painful way. Blake left her. He left her alone, passed out in a gravel trench just outside a sewer pipe.

After two weeks in a hospital, and another week in the wonderful care of her mother and father, Hemmingway McClair stood in the middle of Kentucky, hundreds of miles away from home. This was her new home, at least until she was able to get better. Her eyes glanced up, their color still dull as she took in the home before her. It was beautiful. A veranda encircled the whole bottom floor, bright colorful flowers bloomed softly against the bright green plush grass, and the air. Oh the air. It was so fresh, it was so…. Breathable.

The girl’s thin body was draped in a pair of black sweat pants and a thin black jersey knit tank top. Her eyes were covered in a pair of bright red Ray Ban Wayfarers, the only pop of color she exhibited. Her attire was strange for the heat they were in, but her body shivered softly, even as she stood in the bright mid afternoon sun.

A hand sat gently against each of Hemmingway’s shoulders, a woman behind her smiling softly as she glanced up at the house as well. “Welcome to your new home Hemmy.” Aunt Margret grinned, her excitement barely containable.
Hemmy shivered softly at the sound of her favorite nick-name. Her Aunt had been the only one that had ever called her that, and was also the founder of the name. “Thanks Mar…. for letting me stay.” She mumbled, her eyes glancing down, only to be jerked back up at the sight of a figure waltzing through the front door of Margret’s exceptionally large ranch house.

“Of course darling. Anything you need, you just let us know.” Margret spoke softly, also glancing up to the door as her ranch hand exited. He had been such a helpful young man and Margret knew that the two of them would get along well… Really though Margret’s only hopes were for Hemmy to get better.

Softly Hemmy’s teeth found home in her bottom lip, her eyes still focused on the young man as he moved down the stairs, a toothy smile on his face. Instantly she wanted to hide, she wanted to curl up and never let his gorgeous eyes glance upon her again.

 

[Jay-KINGOFRP]

The Morning was cold, colder than usual in fact. The sun had barely risen, with the darker and lighter shades of blue wrestling in the sky as to which color would show strongest, the wind whistling amongst the grass. It was an awful autumn day, though it showed alot more signs of being winter. As if time traveled back to the 1880's, most of the rooms around the ranch, the main house, the other buildings on the compound, were heated by a single large fireplace, usually situated in the center of the room. It was old and most of the time it wasn't convenient, but it gave the house and cosy and warming glow on days like this, when the ranch was operational by 6am.

Margery had made a point of taking in any strays or wanderers she could find, she seemed to of developed a small community out in the wilds, with young men and women, coming from all over the state, staying for different periods of time before moving on. She was too kind for her own good some would say, yet strict and stern when she had to be. She had a mothering affect on most, who couldn't help but warm to her, which is why Jack had come to stay with her five years ago and hadn't bothered to leave. This was home now, with Margery becoming a surrogate aunt to him.

He came to her a hot-headed eighteen year old from a large family, with no purpose or direction in life. but Margery had given him that when she made him the ranch hand, a job he was thriving in. He stood tall, 6'0, and like the ranchers of old, carried the right genetics for the job, strong broad shoulders and chest, enough to calm and tame any of the larger animals or lift the heavy equipment needed. His hair, which was dark, naturally black, was cut into the traditional short back and sides, a relic from the 60's, his eyes a dark blue.

"My niece is coming to stay for a time" Margery spoke to him, his back turned to her as he saddled the horses for the days work, he simply nodded in acknowledgement, he presumed she was some 12 year old who had started smoking, and now was being forced by her over bearing parents to make amends. "She's got into some trouble in New York... I wouldnt normal say but I trust you Jack, she's in trouble with drugs". she muttered.

He stopped what he was doing, realising how serious the situation must be, she wasn't a little kid then. He turned to face Margery "If anyone can help her it's you" he replied, clearly uncomfortable in the situation. He had never seen a look of worry like this on Margery's face, and he'd seen her through a hell of a lot of situations. "I'll need you to help me too, the whole family" she added, meaning the other small crew of workers on the ranch who had become something of a family, dining together, working together all day of every day, forming close bonds between one another.

The day passed until early morning, when finally Margery got up into her truck and went to pick her niece up form the airport. Jack carried on working as hard as he could, he knew he'd need to help out all he could over the coming weeks, so getting the guest bedroom ready was the first thing he got round too. He chose the room over looked the fields, the many acres of land that the Ranch covered. There were many different free rooms in the house, but this one was the most calming, with cream walls and blue flowered curtains that matched the pale blue bed sheets. It was also on the furthest side of the house away from most of the other rooms, he guessed she's want privacy.

He got Frank, the old handyman, to help him move everything around until everything was perfect. Frank was easily 60, still strongly built for an old man, with closely cut white hair and a white beard. He'd been Margery's worker and friend for well over 30 years, with 40 years as a ranch hand in total. Always ready to help, he was something of the 'father' of the farm and someone who Margery herself had come to rely on to get her through tough situations, much like the one that was coming now.

Before long, he heard the sound Margery's truck pull up down the winding driveway, he walked down the stairs, knowing their would probably be alot of bags. he had worn a blue shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbow and dark blue denim jeans, his typical working clothes.

He headed down the stairs, the whole house spotless, not a dust spec to be seen, exactly as he'd been asked to leave it.

He opened the door, heading down the drive way as he seen the Niece in question, wearing all black, looking some what lost. He couldn't help but notice her beauty though, an instant attraction hit him. But he washed it from his mind as quick as it came, that was Margery's niece and she needed help, not him looking for anything else, or looking at her in that way. He walked down to the truck, the bags still in the back.

"Hi, I'm Jack" he said, curtly, but quickly, he felt awkward. His voice deep, and tinged with a southern accent. He quickly took the bags, trying not to make much of a fuss. "I'll take theese up to the house" he mumbled to Margery, more of an out loud thought, as it didn't need to be said.

 

[Andariel]

“Hi, I’m Jack.” The man spoke, his voice tinged with a soft accent. Hemmy’s eyes finally coming up to meet his. He was huge, at least a head taller, and his neck had to be thicker than her thigh. His massive chest probably weighed as much as her whole body and his arms could wrap around her twice. Hemmy felt so small next to him. She felt small next to most people she suppose, but now… she felt miniscule. Jack’s shirt clung to his thick muscular arms perfectly, and his dark wash wranglers clung perfectly to his thighs. Her eyes would dare a glance at his face, but only once. It was enough to catch his structured jaw and dark buzzed hair. He really was exceptionally good looking… Perhaps even beautiful, though that would take a courageous glance that she would just not risk.

“Hemmingway…” The girl mumbled, her chin tilting closer to her chest, her eyes studying the gravel driveway her black Nikes stood against. She wasn’t even sure if he heard her as he grabbed her bags and quickly darted inside saying he would take her bags for her. Hemmy had packed fairly lightly considering what she left at her mom and dad’s home. Two duffle bags and a carry on were all she brought. She hadn’t spent a long time packing, maybe three hours. Everything was perfect though, she had made sure to have an even amount of outfits including appropriate undergarments. Hemmy hoped she would be able to go home within two weeks. She prayed she would recover quickly and go home.

Margret’s arm encased Hemmy’s shoulder, “Thank you Jack!” She yelled after him, pulling Hemmy towards to door to her home. Stepping through the threshold, Hemmy’s eyes wondered carefully. There were various people standing about, most of them men, though a few were women. All of them were dressed similarly. Dark or light wash Wranglers, cowboy boots of different styles and a patterned or solid colored button up top. To say quite frankly, Hemmy felt completely out of place, and even more so as she noticed them glance her way, give her a once over and returned to what they were doing. A black veil formed over her eyes, casting them back down onto the floor
As they walked, Margret spoke animatedly beside her, her free hand moving with her every word. The house was beautiful. A rich redish brown cherry wood lined the floors with furniture to match it. The couches and chairs were all Victorian style, but more modern. The cushions were all a pale cream with wooden arms and legs to match the floor. The cushions were accompanied by thick plush lavender pillows, each one having a vintage floral print in a darker purple. Cream colored shears flowed in front of the open windows, each of which following the same pattern, held to the wall with a cherry wood rod, while the bottom edge had a purple flower embroidery. Margret’s house was gorgeous, it was a typical ranch home, it was perfect.

The pair made their way through the house, Margret showing Hemmy each of the rooms, informing her of who stayed in them before moving to the next. From the living room to the kitchen, to every bathroom in the house Margret had a new story. It wasn’t that Hemmy didn’t want to listen to her Aunt… but she was exhausted. All Hemmy’s mind was on was a bed. All she could think about was her bed at home. It’s white duvet top, a rich deep blue throw blanket always draped over the end. The combination of the two was always so inviting, so warm and comforting when her body ached, or her skin crawled.

“That’s Jack’s room” Margret explains, pointing to one of the many dark wood doors, “And this, is your room.” The older women smiled, opening the door before releasing Hemmy’s shoulder, nudging her in. The room was similar to the whole house, very simple. The windows were open and had white shears flowing in front of them, just like in the living room. On either side of the window hung a set of no light black curtains on a separate rod, just ready to be pealed over the bright light beams shimmering against the shining hardwood floor. A dark black dresser sat on one side of the room, 3 rows of drawers, making six altogether, a shiny silver pull handle in the center of each. On top of the dresser was a set of three black wax candles on one side and a black and silver merry-go-round with tiny unicorns ready to prance in circles.

On the other side of the room was a bed, a huge bed. It was covered in a white quilt, embroidered with black floral printed thread. Four plush white pillows lined the top, inviting her to lay down, tempting her to sleep within them. At the end of the bed on the floor sat her two duffle bags, her carry on nestled nice and neat on top of the two. Her bags were here, yet there was no one in sight… Jack… Jack must be magical. Hemmy giggled softly at the thought, the first sign of any sort of happiness she had shown thus far with her Aunt.
“We want to help you Hemmy…” Her Aunt trailed as she slowly sauntered into the room she had bestowed upon her niece. “You just have to let us… I’m always around if you need anything and Jack… well Jack is so nice. He’s ready to help you too… Just let us Hemmy.”
Hemmingway’s lips tweaked to the side, a nervous habit she had always had. She didn’t want to let anyone in, she was only going to be there for a few weeks. She was still convinced that she would be alright by then. Unfortunate for Hemmy though, her delusions would only be able to overpower her for so long.

 

[Jay-KINGOFRP]

He heard he door close, and the unmistakeable creak of Margret's footsteps along the hardwood vinyl hallway. The house was huge, not the usual 2-3 bedroom two storey Farm's most thought of when picturing Ranch homes, the type on the old black and white western films on you could find on TV on Sundays. It's had long winding hallways, several staircases and a third floor, which is where Margery had chose to make her home, a sort of perch on top of the nest. It was rare for anyone to even enter that part of the house. But no one needed to. The rest of the ranch was large enough, with sitting rooms, inhabited by large sofa's, as soft and inviting as they were big, stone fireplaces a cosy feeling you couldn't fake.

The grounds matches the interior, Margery had managed to acquire large expanses of land, over 500 acres, which were covered in Green grass fields, vegetable patches and rich corn producing lands. Like most farms, she had her selection of animals, the sound of chickens could be heard all over the far, no one had bothered counting them, but a close guess would of been 300. She owned sheep, pigs, cows and goats in large quantities, but her most valuable and prestigious creatures, were her horses. Eight of the finest working Shire horses money could buy. It required a lot of upkeep, but it was well maintained, and the land was rich and fertile and more than simply nice to look out upon.

Jack had left her belongings in her room then quickly left, he didn't want to overwhelm her on her first day. According to Margery, it was going to be a long stay, perhaps a good few months, so impressions would be important, and the last thing he wanted was to overwhelm her.

He had headed straight into his room, situated diagonally across the hall from Hemmingways. The same sort of layout fitted his room as did most, yet his had a more bare and cold interior. Margery had often joked with him that his bedroom had come to resemble a Marine's bunk. A large bed was centered in the room, a simple navy blue cover and white pillows on top, with nothing else apart from a large oak dresser for his clothes, and a small metal box at the foot of his bed, for all his personal belongings and toiletries. He didn't need much, he spent the vast majority of his days out in the fields, even when the others had returned to , the only TV in the house, in the main living room, at night, he stayed working in the barn, or down in the chicken finding something to do. Boredom and loneliness dictated his behavior, so the introduction of someone new had greatly spiked his interest, the fact that she was a beautiful young women was an added bonus.

'DING DING!'..

The dinner bell rang. It was old fashioned and a simple shout would of been sufficient, but Margery had insisted, she liked the idea of 'calling in the troops' as she had called it. The workers in the fields, the barn and all over headed straight home, with 9 people somehow fitting round the dining room table on a regular basis, 9 which was soon to become 10.

Jack left his room, having to pass Hemmingways on his way to the stairs. He took a few paces, for some reason, being wary of his foot steps on the floor, near impossible to keep silent on the hard wood. He dawdled a few towards her doorway, which Margery had perhaps on purpose left open.

He lingered at the door, leaning up against the frame. "Hey.." he started to catch her attention, "thats the dinner bell.. if you're hungry?" he asked earnestly, his eyebrows raising inquisitively "I could walk with you.. I mean, show you the way?" he added, trying to sound as cool as possible. Something he was fairly sure he wasn't doing.