Post by Alistair "Stainless" Steele on Jul 17, 2007 13:59:56 GMT -5
Murphy’s Law: (n.) A rule that states, “If something can go wrong, it will.” An addition to this law reads, “and usually at the worst time.”
–American Heritage New Dictionary of Cultural Literacy, Third Edition
###
Dusk settled over Fort MacMurray. The evening summer shadows crept through the busy streets, dragging darkness in their wake, but that darkness was met head on by an army of streetlights that lined the neighborhoods like sentries. Several blocks away, the steady humming of the city night life was pierced by the siren of an ambulance, most likely dispatched to clean up the gruesome result of some domestic disturbance. One less person in the city, and all went on as normal.
###
She hated walking home in the dark.
Her heels clicked on the sidewalk, sending echoes through the empty street. She hated her route home; she just had to get the one street in all of Fort Mac that nobody traveled. It wasn’t a long walk from the café where she worked to her apartment, but tonight the street seemed endless. She quickened her pace slightly, which broke the monotony of the steady clicking from her heels, if only for a moment.
As she passed under one of the guardian streetlights, she paused. Was someone there? All she saw beyond the radius of light was blackness, and yet she was certain she was being followed. She held her breath and waited for some sign of an attacker, any hint of movement, but it didn’t happen. She leaned against the streetlight and let out a sigh of relief, her red hair shimmering in the light.
Jesus, Vicki, get a hold of yourself. It’s been seven years. There’s nobody out to get you. Get over it.
But she couldn’t get over it. The memory of the man who had taken advantage of her still haunted her to this day. Even when she had seen him locked away, it didn’t put the fear to rest. She still saw him around every corner and in every dark alley, waiting for her, taunting her, making her feel unclean.
Soon after the incident, Vicki’s worst fears were confirmed. She hadn’t had her monthly in over three weeks, but she thought nothing of it at first. She figured it was her body adapting to the trauma. Then the nausea and abdominal pains set in, and she knew she was with child. Vicki refused to tell her parents; God forbid they knew their only daughter was carrying the bastard child of a rapist. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to abort the pregnancy, so she tried to carry on as normally as she could while trying to hide her growing abdomen.
It didn’t take long, however, for her father to catch on. “I won’t have you raise some bastard child on your own!” he insisted. When she had finally given birth one cool autumn night, Vicki was forced to give the child up for adoption. A little girl with brown hair, and eyes as green as emerald. Vicki was crushed, but she knew it was for the best. After all, she would see her little girl again someday.
However, just when she started to feel somewhat safe, Vicki’s world had crashed around her once again. After just five years served of his twenty year sentence, the monster had been unleashed into the streets of St. John’s once again, only this time he was part of some sick wrestling federation. Wrought with fear and panic, Vicki up and left the province; she wasn’t willing to take the chance of meeting the demented bastard who misused her so terribly.
She made her way to Fort Mac, where she soon found a job as a waitress in a small coffee shop in the heart of the city. For two years she worked at that coffee shop, and even though she was still so young–only twenty-eight–Vicki soon made her way up the food chain to become manager of the place. This demanded long hours from her, and oftentimes she would have to work late into the night, walking home alone to her single-bedroom apartment only three blocks away.
And still she was afraid.
She thought that being away from Newfoundland would help her forget, but the horrid pervert followed her in her dreams. Vicki could still hear the thumping of his work boots echoing through the night, and she could never forget the awful stench of whiskey on his breath, the long grey hair–even though he looked quite young–that hung down the sides of his face in stringy clumps, or the muscular arms that pinned her helplessly like a rag doll...
But most of all, she would never forget those piercing green eyes, so full of lust and hatred, yet completely devoid of any guilt or remorse. Those eyes had violated her long before his body had the chance to, and she felt sick to her stomach every time she thought of it.
A few stars twinkled in the night sky, but were soon snuffed out by cloud cover. Vicki composed herself and dared to step out of the circle of light and into the hungry blackness. She quickly made her way through the dark, not feeling safe until she was back in the comforting glow of the next streetlight.
She could see her apartment at the far end of the street, which made her feel somewhat better. But she knew that between the streetlight she stood under and her home, anything could and probably would happen. God damned Murphy’s Law.
A warm breeze rustled through the houses on either side of the street, and even though it was summer, the wind seemed to chill her. Vicki hugged herself tightly and rubbed her upper arms, trying to stifle the goose bumps that covered her entire limbs. The thin blue blouse and black skirt she wore didn’t help, either.
Come on, only a couple more houses to pass and you’ll be home.
Vicki walked faster still; a nervous, edgy walk. She constantly glanced around, making sure that she was the only one walking this particular street. She jumped when a car passed by her, and let out a nervous laugh when she realized how foolish she was.
For fuck’s sake... just a car.
At long last, Vicki reached the safe haven that was her apartment. She was near tears with relief as she walked up the faded, cracked stone steps, reaching into her pocket for her key. One more uneventful walk home under her belt. She gripped the key in her hand, and with one final glance around her, she reached forward to slide the key into the hole... and stopped.
Something caught her attention. Off in the distance, the faint echo of footsteps reached her ears. Vicki stood silent, her hair standing on end, heart pounding in her chest. She looked toward the sound, and saw a barely visible light go on and off, somewhat like a lighthouse. As the echo became louder, her heart went up in her throat. Her eyes widened and her mouth went dry, as her worst fears were slowly coming to life.
The clunking footsteps were loud and hard, as if the owner was wearing a pair of work boots...
###
What a fucking headache.
Steele was out for three solid hours, and woke up backstage in the infirmary feeling like his head was several sizes too big. He wasn’t even sure if the beast that plowed into him was human; it felt like being hit with a chunk of iron rather than an arm, even if this arm was as big as a telephone pole.
Although his world was a little hazy at the moment, the feeling of being back in the ring was as clear as a bell. He even decided to have a little fun with his opponent, the “Lone Wolf.” The gas can and steel trap were the icing on the cake, he thought, and he would have to thank Johnny and Roger later. And how lucky Steele had been, to get the one wrestler who was afraid of his new obsession. The terrified look on Lone Wolf’s face when he set the ring ablaze... it felt good, and Steele took full advantage of it.
But just when he was starting to have fun, just when he had the Lone Wolf right where he wanted him, the Bruiser stepped in and ruined everything. Steele was so close to winning, and Mack Brody fucked it all up. Steele had heard of Brody before, but seeing him in person was completely different. This mountain of a man who stood between him and his victory wouldn’t budge, no matter what Steele threw at him. He tossed Steele around like a stuffed animal, and the next thing Alistair knew, he was met with a massive clothesline that instantly knocked him out.
However, he had to give the big man some credit. Because of him, Steele didn’t lose the match against the Lone Wolf. He didn’t win, but he didn’t lose, either, which was a step up from his first match in the FCW...
Needless to say, Mack Brody was a name Steele wouldn’t soon forget.
When the headache had subsided a little, Steele decided to take a walk to clear his mind. He made his way through the many interconnecting streets of Fort Mac, not really knowing his destination. His head still pounded, and the hustle and bustle of the busy downtown area didn’t help. The blinding lights and blaring noise bombarded his brain and increased the intensity of his headache. He had to get somewhere quieter.
Steele noticed a street nearby that seemed vacant. Thank God, he thought, as he turned the corner into his refuge. Leaving the commotion of Fort Mac behind, this street seemed like a haven for him. A straight narrow road, lined with streetlights and houses on both sides. And most of all, it was quiet for the most part, with the exception of the scattered car passing through.
Steele took his lighter out of his pocket and flicked it a few times, watching the flame be snuffed out and reborn over and over. The wound on his hand was healed up for the most part as well. The bandage was no longer required, but there were scars left behind. Fuck it, thought Steele, it adds character. He heard the sound of his steel toed work boots hitting the pavement send a thumping echo through the street, which somehow matched the rhythmic pounding of his massive headache.
Johnny and Roger hadn’t contacted Steele in almost a week, but he didn’t care. It was normal for him to go a week, sometimes more, without hearing from the Two. But, as usual, the phone was always in his back pocket, always on.
As he made his way down the street, Alistair noticed up ahead that he wasn’t alone. He saw a young woman standing in front of her apartment door, fidgeting with her key. She looked in his direction, and almost seemed to stare right through him. Steele flicked his lighter and kept walking, the heavy echo of his boots like a metronome. He watched the woman, who was visibly nervous, as she managed to get her door open and rushed inside in a panic, slamming and locking the door behind her.
Steele tilted his head, not sure what she was so nervous about. He thought she looked familiar when she looked at him, but it was probably nobody he knew. He put the thought out of his mind as he continued along the street, but as he passed her apartment, he stopped under the streetlight. Putting the lighter back in his pocket, he turned and looked at the door. For a second he swore she was staring back at him through the window, completely horrified, but he thought nothing of it. Instead he chuckled to himself and continued on.
Jesus Christ, these people are scared of everything.
###
It couldn’t be.
She refused to believe it.
He couldn’t be here.
Completely dumbfounded, Vicki watched through the window next to her door as the figure passed under the streetlight outside her apartment, only to reveal himself as the monster she had spent seven years trying to escape from. When he stopped and looked at the window, she panicked and hid from view. She prayed he didn’t see her. Even though she was sitting on the floor with her back against the door, she could feel his eyes upon her; boring through the apartment and into her soul.
She broke down into tears, and at that moment, she wanted to die. She was absolutely certain he was coming for her. There was no escaping the man who had raped her so violently, and she just wanted to die. It was over for her, there was nowhere for her to go. Vicki had given up all hope. She stood up and looked back out the window, expecting to see the monster still staring at her with those menacing green eyes, but he was gone. Vicki was staring at just an empty circle of light.
A wave of relief washed over her. Her legs buckled and she collapsed into tears, but this time they were tears of joy. Vicki’s world has just fallen apart once again, but the only thing keeping her sane was the fact that she was safe for at least another night. Safe from the man who had taken over her life for seven years, even though he didn’t know her. Hyperventilating, Vicki wiped her tears on the sleeve of her blouse and managed to bring herself to her feet. She made sure that he wasn’t still outside, then made a mental note to get some extra locks for her door before she had a complete breakdown.
She walked through her house and locked all the windows and doors that had locks on them, but it was as if she had no control over her motions. Her mind was only fixated on the cruel bastard who had followed her all the way here. But how did he know she was in Fort Mac? It didn’t make sense to her.
Vicki sighed and walked up the polished wooden staircase to her bedroom, drawing the only conclusion she could think of for why he was here.
“Fuckin’ Murphy’s Law,” she said aloud.
–American Heritage New Dictionary of Cultural Literacy, Third Edition
###
Dusk settled over Fort MacMurray. The evening summer shadows crept through the busy streets, dragging darkness in their wake, but that darkness was met head on by an army of streetlights that lined the neighborhoods like sentries. Several blocks away, the steady humming of the city night life was pierced by the siren of an ambulance, most likely dispatched to clean up the gruesome result of some domestic disturbance. One less person in the city, and all went on as normal.
###
She hated walking home in the dark.
Her heels clicked on the sidewalk, sending echoes through the empty street. She hated her route home; she just had to get the one street in all of Fort Mac that nobody traveled. It wasn’t a long walk from the café where she worked to her apartment, but tonight the street seemed endless. She quickened her pace slightly, which broke the monotony of the steady clicking from her heels, if only for a moment.
As she passed under one of the guardian streetlights, she paused. Was someone there? All she saw beyond the radius of light was blackness, and yet she was certain she was being followed. She held her breath and waited for some sign of an attacker, any hint of movement, but it didn’t happen. She leaned against the streetlight and let out a sigh of relief, her red hair shimmering in the light.
Jesus, Vicki, get a hold of yourself. It’s been seven years. There’s nobody out to get you. Get over it.
But she couldn’t get over it. The memory of the man who had taken advantage of her still haunted her to this day. Even when she had seen him locked away, it didn’t put the fear to rest. She still saw him around every corner and in every dark alley, waiting for her, taunting her, making her feel unclean.
Soon after the incident, Vicki’s worst fears were confirmed. She hadn’t had her monthly in over three weeks, but she thought nothing of it at first. She figured it was her body adapting to the trauma. Then the nausea and abdominal pains set in, and she knew she was with child. Vicki refused to tell her parents; God forbid they knew their only daughter was carrying the bastard child of a rapist. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to abort the pregnancy, so she tried to carry on as normally as she could while trying to hide her growing abdomen.
It didn’t take long, however, for her father to catch on. “I won’t have you raise some bastard child on your own!” he insisted. When she had finally given birth one cool autumn night, Vicki was forced to give the child up for adoption. A little girl with brown hair, and eyes as green as emerald. Vicki was crushed, but she knew it was for the best. After all, she would see her little girl again someday.
However, just when she started to feel somewhat safe, Vicki’s world had crashed around her once again. After just five years served of his twenty year sentence, the monster had been unleashed into the streets of St. John’s once again, only this time he was part of some sick wrestling federation. Wrought with fear and panic, Vicki up and left the province; she wasn’t willing to take the chance of meeting the demented bastard who misused her so terribly.
She made her way to Fort Mac, where she soon found a job as a waitress in a small coffee shop in the heart of the city. For two years she worked at that coffee shop, and even though she was still so young–only twenty-eight–Vicki soon made her way up the food chain to become manager of the place. This demanded long hours from her, and oftentimes she would have to work late into the night, walking home alone to her single-bedroom apartment only three blocks away.
And still she was afraid.
She thought that being away from Newfoundland would help her forget, but the horrid pervert followed her in her dreams. Vicki could still hear the thumping of his work boots echoing through the night, and she could never forget the awful stench of whiskey on his breath, the long grey hair–even though he looked quite young–that hung down the sides of his face in stringy clumps, or the muscular arms that pinned her helplessly like a rag doll...
But most of all, she would never forget those piercing green eyes, so full of lust and hatred, yet completely devoid of any guilt or remorse. Those eyes had violated her long before his body had the chance to, and she felt sick to her stomach every time she thought of it.
A few stars twinkled in the night sky, but were soon snuffed out by cloud cover. Vicki composed herself and dared to step out of the circle of light and into the hungry blackness. She quickly made her way through the dark, not feeling safe until she was back in the comforting glow of the next streetlight.
She could see her apartment at the far end of the street, which made her feel somewhat better. But she knew that between the streetlight she stood under and her home, anything could and probably would happen. God damned Murphy’s Law.
A warm breeze rustled through the houses on either side of the street, and even though it was summer, the wind seemed to chill her. Vicki hugged herself tightly and rubbed her upper arms, trying to stifle the goose bumps that covered her entire limbs. The thin blue blouse and black skirt she wore didn’t help, either.
Come on, only a couple more houses to pass and you’ll be home.
Vicki walked faster still; a nervous, edgy walk. She constantly glanced around, making sure that she was the only one walking this particular street. She jumped when a car passed by her, and let out a nervous laugh when she realized how foolish she was.
For fuck’s sake... just a car.
At long last, Vicki reached the safe haven that was her apartment. She was near tears with relief as she walked up the faded, cracked stone steps, reaching into her pocket for her key. One more uneventful walk home under her belt. She gripped the key in her hand, and with one final glance around her, she reached forward to slide the key into the hole... and stopped.
Something caught her attention. Off in the distance, the faint echo of footsteps reached her ears. Vicki stood silent, her hair standing on end, heart pounding in her chest. She looked toward the sound, and saw a barely visible light go on and off, somewhat like a lighthouse. As the echo became louder, her heart went up in her throat. Her eyes widened and her mouth went dry, as her worst fears were slowly coming to life.
The clunking footsteps were loud and hard, as if the owner was wearing a pair of work boots...
###
What a fucking headache.
Steele was out for three solid hours, and woke up backstage in the infirmary feeling like his head was several sizes too big. He wasn’t even sure if the beast that plowed into him was human; it felt like being hit with a chunk of iron rather than an arm, even if this arm was as big as a telephone pole.
Although his world was a little hazy at the moment, the feeling of being back in the ring was as clear as a bell. He even decided to have a little fun with his opponent, the “Lone Wolf.” The gas can and steel trap were the icing on the cake, he thought, and he would have to thank Johnny and Roger later. And how lucky Steele had been, to get the one wrestler who was afraid of his new obsession. The terrified look on Lone Wolf’s face when he set the ring ablaze... it felt good, and Steele took full advantage of it.
But just when he was starting to have fun, just when he had the Lone Wolf right where he wanted him, the Bruiser stepped in and ruined everything. Steele was so close to winning, and Mack Brody fucked it all up. Steele had heard of Brody before, but seeing him in person was completely different. This mountain of a man who stood between him and his victory wouldn’t budge, no matter what Steele threw at him. He tossed Steele around like a stuffed animal, and the next thing Alistair knew, he was met with a massive clothesline that instantly knocked him out.
However, he had to give the big man some credit. Because of him, Steele didn’t lose the match against the Lone Wolf. He didn’t win, but he didn’t lose, either, which was a step up from his first match in the FCW...
Needless to say, Mack Brody was a name Steele wouldn’t soon forget.
When the headache had subsided a little, Steele decided to take a walk to clear his mind. He made his way through the many interconnecting streets of Fort Mac, not really knowing his destination. His head still pounded, and the hustle and bustle of the busy downtown area didn’t help. The blinding lights and blaring noise bombarded his brain and increased the intensity of his headache. He had to get somewhere quieter.
Steele noticed a street nearby that seemed vacant. Thank God, he thought, as he turned the corner into his refuge. Leaving the commotion of Fort Mac behind, this street seemed like a haven for him. A straight narrow road, lined with streetlights and houses on both sides. And most of all, it was quiet for the most part, with the exception of the scattered car passing through.
Steele took his lighter out of his pocket and flicked it a few times, watching the flame be snuffed out and reborn over and over. The wound on his hand was healed up for the most part as well. The bandage was no longer required, but there were scars left behind. Fuck it, thought Steele, it adds character. He heard the sound of his steel toed work boots hitting the pavement send a thumping echo through the street, which somehow matched the rhythmic pounding of his massive headache.
Johnny and Roger hadn’t contacted Steele in almost a week, but he didn’t care. It was normal for him to go a week, sometimes more, without hearing from the Two. But, as usual, the phone was always in his back pocket, always on.
As he made his way down the street, Alistair noticed up ahead that he wasn’t alone. He saw a young woman standing in front of her apartment door, fidgeting with her key. She looked in his direction, and almost seemed to stare right through him. Steele flicked his lighter and kept walking, the heavy echo of his boots like a metronome. He watched the woman, who was visibly nervous, as she managed to get her door open and rushed inside in a panic, slamming and locking the door behind her.
Steele tilted his head, not sure what she was so nervous about. He thought she looked familiar when she looked at him, but it was probably nobody he knew. He put the thought out of his mind as he continued along the street, but as he passed her apartment, he stopped under the streetlight. Putting the lighter back in his pocket, he turned and looked at the door. For a second he swore she was staring back at him through the window, completely horrified, but he thought nothing of it. Instead he chuckled to himself and continued on.
Jesus Christ, these people are scared of everything.
###
It couldn’t be.
She refused to believe it.
He couldn’t be here.
Completely dumbfounded, Vicki watched through the window next to her door as the figure passed under the streetlight outside her apartment, only to reveal himself as the monster she had spent seven years trying to escape from. When he stopped and looked at the window, she panicked and hid from view. She prayed he didn’t see her. Even though she was sitting on the floor with her back against the door, she could feel his eyes upon her; boring through the apartment and into her soul.
She broke down into tears, and at that moment, she wanted to die. She was absolutely certain he was coming for her. There was no escaping the man who had raped her so violently, and she just wanted to die. It was over for her, there was nowhere for her to go. Vicki had given up all hope. She stood up and looked back out the window, expecting to see the monster still staring at her with those menacing green eyes, but he was gone. Vicki was staring at just an empty circle of light.
A wave of relief washed over her. Her legs buckled and she collapsed into tears, but this time they were tears of joy. Vicki’s world has just fallen apart once again, but the only thing keeping her sane was the fact that she was safe for at least another night. Safe from the man who had taken over her life for seven years, even though he didn’t know her. Hyperventilating, Vicki wiped her tears on the sleeve of her blouse and managed to bring herself to her feet. She made sure that he wasn’t still outside, then made a mental note to get some extra locks for her door before she had a complete breakdown.
She walked through her house and locked all the windows and doors that had locks on them, but it was as if she had no control over her motions. Her mind was only fixated on the cruel bastard who had followed her all the way here. But how did he know she was in Fort Mac? It didn’t make sense to her.
Vicki sighed and walked up the polished wooden staircase to her bedroom, drawing the only conclusion she could think of for why he was here.
“Fuckin’ Murphy’s Law,” she said aloud.