Mr Rickman [Sequel to Mr Americano] - An ALAN RICKMAN fanfic

Chapter 17 - Fire and Ashes

[This chapter is rated strictly M for violence] 

Just want to say for some WEIRD reason when I initially upload Wattpad loves to shove my words together without spacing. Please, if you see it like this, refresh because I re-edit immediately. It's so annoying and doesn't show up in the preview, yet when I paste it, it does. I think it's because I paste from Microsoft word.

This chapter was TOUGH to write for many reasons. It seems odd to say I hope you enjoy it, when the context is so harrowing, but you know what I mean. Tough subject, finding the right dialogue when four years has passed since Rebecca and Scott last came into contact...It was challenging! 

Brace yourself! *holds breath*

.........................................

Blackness. An open void lays beyond my closed flickering eye lids as my body awakens with a slow stir. Have I been dreaming? A severe pain cracks between my temples joining my brows into a knot.

My eyes flicker open as I become reacquainted with reality. I'd been unconscious. The car, Scott, Judy, Ellie...all of it rushes back to me with a vengeance.

Before me, a dark silhouette takes form. A familiar bolt impales my chest the moment I set eyes on him.

Scott.

A twist of my wrists tells me my hands are bound tightly behind me with thick tape; my mouth is smothered with the same obstruction. Fear inhabits me, unable to speak, to call for help. My legs draw into my torso instinctively to protect the unborn life inside of me.

Sat in a metal chair, Scott's languorous limbs are splayed out before him whilst he casually smokes a cigarette. The corner of his lip angles into a vile smirk watching me struggle, each frantic breath leaving my nose in a sharp puff. My heart is pounding behind my rib cage and he relishes in it, his head turning this way and that – analytic and calculated.

"Alright there babe? Bit of a shock to the system is it?"

He rises from his chair and arrogantly walks around a dingy minimally furnished flat that reeks of dampness and cigarettes. The corners of the ceilings are blackened from confined smoke; the wallpaper no better conditioned is peeling from the walls.

"You've been living in the lap of luxury the past four years, I expect this place is a fucking squalor to you." He snorts arrogantly and takes a drag of his cigarette with nicotine stained fingers, "Let me tell you something - there's two types of people in this life, Beck. The ones that bust their asses to get to the top, slowly building up life's little luxuries, and the ones that are conniving in order to get every fucking thing they want on a silver platter in an instant."

He waves his cigarette closing his eyes, "Let me break that down for you. "His heavy eyes look straight at me with intensity. "Whores. Prime example. Someone who claims to love another when really they're out there securing their life investment by getting their cunt filled by a millionaire."

My chest shakes in anger, tears streaming from my eyes. Judy, Ellie...where are they? Anything I have to say is incoherent, muffled behind the electrical tape. I hear Judy's voice from what sounds like the next room and pray Ellie is with her, both unharmed.