rachel (ohruby) wrote in cd_fic,

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Title: The Gloaming (8/14 for Radiohead.)
Disclaimer: Mine.
Rating: R
Note: This is a really...disturbing piece. Well, I guess it CAN be disturbing. Personally, I am not disturbed by it, but I don't know how y'all feel about it. Took me forever to write. Plus, I totally use the word "panties" and I totally apologize. I hate that word with a passion. But "underwear" sounds so STUPID. Typos abound in this, I am sure.
WARNINGS: dubious consent, paedophilia. And I mean...the guy is like 47, and she is like...13. Also, just general wierdness. And blasphemy.

your alarm bells, they should be ringing

careful, careful. She is paused in the doorway to my bedroom, one rounded shoulder bared by her slipping shirt. She almost glows in the soft light, strands of her golden hair tucked behind her ears as she plays with the hem of her skirt. If I am not careful- so perfectly, utterly careful- she will slip away into the night, running down the stairs with her pink sandals gathered in her arms. And that wouldn't do.

"I don't think we should do this," She takes a step backwards when I stand up, poised to flee. "I should leave." I shrug and draw a hand through my hair, trying to appear casual and unafraid. But I am afraid- afraid that she will leave me, afraid that she will not be enough, afraid that I will hurt her. But I have to remember she is a teenager- she's catching that rebellion fever that makes her wear her skirts shorter and her lips stained a deeper shade of red.

"I mean, you can leave if you want. Go and be with your parents- you probably should let them know you're alright. I understand you might be afraid." you had better take the bait, my sweetling. you had better be what i think you are.

"I'm not afraid! I'll do whatever I want." She reaches down and slides her shirt up over her head, dropping it to the floor as she attempts to unhook her bra with one hand. I'm not even sure why she wears a bra at all; she's still got the body of a little girl, all smooth and rosy and pure. Whenever I bring these girls home it's like I can smell the smoke in thier lungs from thier first cladestine cigarette breaks; I can see the shadows blue and red across thier slim waists where boys have placed thier hands. But she is so pure, still. So white and smooth and soft.

It's hard for me not to grab her right now, take her up against the door until she promises, no i will never leave you, i am yours, just don't leave, don't leave. But that's no way to go about it. So I take her hand, lead her gently over to the the bed. She sits as far from me as she can, quiet and wideeyed. I move closer, our knees touching as I place a palm to her cheek. She seems surprised, and her lips are sweet and soft againt mine. At first she does nothing, just watching me with open eyes as I bring my hands down around her waist. She's so fragile I could crush her with my fingertips. She only starts squirming when I lift her onto my lap.

"I..." She breaks away from our kiss, craning her neck backwards so that she can properly see my face. oh no, pet, not now. don't let me down. I wrap my arms around her, just holding her against me for a long moment as she relaxes. "Are you sure this is okay?" Her teeth catch at her lower lip as she asks me. I can feel it against my throat.

"I am sure, Julia." She pulls back to look at me again for a second before sliding off of her perch on my knees. First she unzips her skirt, letting it fall to the floor beside her discarded shirt. She's standing there now in those innocent little girl panties, the ones with little stars that say things like, "GIRL POWER!" and "I LUV PUPPIES!". Hers are blue with a little rhinestone flower on the left hip and the word "SUPERSTAR!" emblazoned across the front. She trembles as I look at her, crossing her arms across her chest and glancing over her shoulder towards the open door. too late. I jump to my feet just as she looks about to panic, bending over to collect her things. The door slams shut as she straightens, the click of the lock echoing through the silent room.

"What are we going to do, exactly?" It's like she's suddenly realized she's locked, naked, in a room with a near stranger.

"You'll see, Julia. It's nothing wrong."

"Are you going to hurt me?" I can almost hear her voice as she cowers in the witness stand of some non-existant trial. he raped me, your honor. and he would have murdered me to get rid of the evidence, too. i'm sure of it. he's a murderer, a murderer...we are not the same. i am not at fault.

I do not answer because I do not want to lie to her again.

too late.


She winces as she wakes the next morning, the center of her rhinestone star stained with blood. The only evidence is there, and I don't plan on letting her keep it. When she makes her way to the bathroom for a shower, I burn the "SUPERSTAR!" panties in the fireplace. We've got places to go today, but no one will know what happened here.

Later that Sunday morning, I stare at her as she cuddles up to her mother in the pews. From the pulpit I can see them all- little girls in thier white dresses, dark secrets hidden in the shadows beneath thier eyes. When I'm finished with the sermon, a woman approaches me with her young daughter in tow.

"Father Perry, would you mind watching Kate for me tonight? Her father and I have to go to our meeting about keeping prayer in schools." Kate is one of Julia's friends, a pale little preteen with mousy brown hair.

"Of course, Mary. I would be delighted to. Drop her off at around eight?" Mary gives me a smile and walks away with Kate's hand in hers.

Kate looks over her shoulder at me for a short moment before she passes through the church's doors. Her pale lips crumple downwards into a frown as I wave.

too late.
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