Painting the Roses Red (Sexual Offenderman Fanfic) [Starting Over]

He Isn't Mine

A small breeze jostled the branches that salient night, a lone figure's form silently drawing in the light with her white, tattered dress. Her arms were covered in scratched as if she were running aimlessly for hours, searching for someone.

She remembered it as if it were yesterday, the bitter cold from that evening constantly biting her flesh whenever she thought about it. It was a night when the moon had illuminated the evening fully, the light of the moon hiding the bugs and animals within the shadows of the bushes. She remembered how many times she thought she heard a rabid dog, and how many times she thought she heard her calling. But the monsters didn't concern her one bit. No. The pain within her chest and the swelling of her eyes overshadowed her fear. The bitter grief that evoked whenever she remembered the accident only drew her mad. In fact, her feet sloppily stepped forward as if she were anticipating something, mournfully awaiting her own demise.

She didn't want to be here anymore.

Alive.

Breathing.

Aching.

Alone...

Everything was so cold without her. And she couldn't do anything about it. She couldn't change what had happened.

Her own life, her past... None of it mattered to her anymore.

The woman finally made it into a clearing and she stopped in her tracks. The slow breathing from her slowly grew into soft pant, her hands clenching by her sides. Wet grass clung to her feet as a gust of wind whipped at her hair to the direction of the clearing. But there was no one there. Like in the forest. The thing she was searching for wasn't there anymore.

There was a wretched gut feeling ripping at her insides and she knew then that what she was doing was hopeless.

She couldn't find him today... And she probably never will.

Her feet, dirty and naked, pressed against the grass on the ground, the back of her left heel bleeding as she let out a choked sob. Her hands quickly tried to brush the tears away, but she'd attempted to hide her anguish too many times to know that this wasn't going to help.

She should have known that this was a stupid idea. She should've just done it herself, taken her life, should have grasped the courage to seal the deal.

But she was so... weak.

The woman sniffed the night air, her vision blurred by the bitter cold of her tears, the wind irritating her eyes to the point that she couldn't open them, openly sobbing her heart out.

But then...

A loud crack behind her startled her out of her emotional fit, her eyes widening as she slowly felt a heat pooling between her legs. She'd never felt anything like this. It was like the heat was all around her, consuming her, body and soul. Almost like she had stepped into a hot patch of bittersweet arousal.

And within that instant, a hand appeared next to her head with a flower - no, a rose - hanging loosely from its fingers, the appendages as white as snow against the darkness of the night.

"Hello, darling."

The woman shivered from the voice, the dark tone and the low growls at the end of his words slipping from his tongue like honey.

"A woman such as yourself shouldn't be out alone on a night like this," the voice continued, an enticing chuckle drawing shivers down her spine. "You could say monsters come out during this  of night time.