Poison's Kiss. (On Hiatus)

Prologue.

It was a warm sunny day in Arizon, not like the other dry days with its moistened air breaking its way through the streets and roads, you could see the heats haze just above the road, radiating in its blurry picture. Just at the centre of some bottle neck road at the very roof was a house, white picket fences and the most American looking garden decorations. Just beyond the spotless white door was a woman screaming desperately for somebody to-

"RIP THIS FUCKER OUT OF ME!"

She buckled over the bed she laid in as she crumples into ragged sobs and screams, next to her was her husband, both of them were blonde, she was dirtier than he was, like she'd been on her hands and knees scrubbing an oven. The husband was a large and stocky man, his features forgettable and statuesque, even as his wife was in considerable pain.

"Please...please get him ooUUUTTTTTTTTT AHHHHHHH!" her knuckles whitened as she clenched against the steel bars of her bed, the straps beside it hung loosely and vacant, shaking every now and then with her jolts as the baby pushed further and further out. A harrowed looking woman rushed past the husband, who smoked on his pipe with an unimpressed face, stoic and unrelenting. She dabbed the mothers forehead with a cold towel but the mother grabs the midwife's wrist and launches her into the metal bedside table. The husband barely noticing as she scurried from the floor, the vase on the table spilling with yellowed foul water.

It was a sign, that whatever was entering the world was rotted, undeserving of its chance at life. But what would a chance at life be like at the hands of this father, who barely cared his wife was being ripped apart by the monster between her legs, the blood pouring thicker now. She wretched almost, clinging to the sides of her bed even tighter as the midwives stand by and watched, helpless to the woman's rage as she would fling or grip or bite anybody who tried to help her, she was determined to do this on her own, the one thing she knew how to do.

Her skin had turned a pallid green, she flushed like the stem of a flower, full of colourful light, but shrouded in pain and shadow.

"Marcus!" She pleaded, desperately crying out, she would only accept his help because he so rarely offered her it, a hand, an olive branch, anything to get him to look at her, to bother with doing even the slightest bit of decency.

But he simply rustled the papers next to him, and opened the news tabloid without a second glance.

That was it, the breaking point.

She had tried time and time again for him, to try and give him a warm and comforting house to return to, a settled and balanced meal every night when he returned home from his work, and the endless, countless hours of laying under him, watching him hopelessly try to gain a son. One that would carry on his legacy, his blood. She had only been his wife for 2 years and this was what she deserved? Loyal to a man who cared nothing for her, her body was in shreds, she felt long betrayed by this pig of a man and she would no longer stand it. If he wanted a son then he would get one, but there will be a price.

Somebody hammers on the door with a ferocity that got everyone's attention, even Marcus looked up from his reading. A tall and lanky man enters, brown hair sagging at his shoulders wearing a red camouflaged army uniform, standing at attention when his eyes laid on Marcus, distracted by the screams and growls coming from his wife.

"Sarge, they've breached again and they're coming for Units 4 and 7, what do we do to stave them off from the Fields!?" The man sounded desperate and nervous, sweat beading on his forehead.