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[darksct]

flcksin‌:

he’s pushing her away. everything he does is an attempt to push her away but she always remains here. he always wakes up with her by his side, and she never leaves. twenty three minutes at a time. sometimes he wants her to leave for good. to never return. if only because he thinks he deserves that as a consequence for all the atrocities he’s done within his life. but she still comes back. she still comes back after twenty three minutes, smiling at him, kissing him, trying to dominate him by straddling and pinning him down. he always lets her, as if he is futile in any attempt to make her release him. and his mind is so foggy. so misted by this idea that he does not belong in the world, or belong to be happy. he has been conditioned with the thought of it since he was a boy. since he had experienced all of that trauma and violence. all of those cruel words that inhabit his mind even now.

and he feels her against him. how she touches the scars on his body. scars that have show a lifetime of pain. of experience with pain. of trauma. and he can feel how soft her hands are and her lips that kiss his collarbone. and he wants to remain standing up straight, proudly like a lion with its chest puffed out. looking over its territory. but he can’t. he can feel his walls breaking down with each word she says. he can feel himself breaking down, because what she says are the kindest words he’s heard in his life. and everything she says is something special to him. and she doesn’t even realise it. but it breaks him. sometimes he’ll hide in the wardrobe as much as a grown man can, whilst she’s downstairs. he’ll wipe his eyes because he’s being given an opportunity of happiness, but he can’t quite take it. something stops him. and willow sees this clearer than anyone. she rams against it, like a battling ram. “ n-no ” he says once again trying to protest the idea. but she sounds so insistent, and his voice is weaker than it typically is. than it should be. because she’s winning. for once, she wins against all his insecurities that penetrate his mind.

and she points out what has hurt him. julie. she hurt him more than he lets on. when he speaks to her of his ex-girlfriend, he seems to shrug it off. he grumbles as if it’s meaningless. but she’s seen the sadness in his eyes. the pain that remains there after all of these years. because sometimes pain is permanent. this is what joe has discovered. sometimes it’s simply inescapable. and he swallows hard now, enough to hurt his throat, if only because he’s trying to keep emotion back. from not breaking down into a crumbling mess. although maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. the water from the showerhead would hide him. and he accepts her hold, his own arms envelop around her - tighter than he’s ever held her. it’s truthful. it’s genuine. a hold of a man who doesn’t want to let someone so special go. because she’s a jewel to him. she’s perfect. “ i love you and i…a-and i’m sorry ” he breathes to her, holding her as he buries his face against the crook of her neck. he finds comfort there. he can feel her beating pulse against his cheek. “ i won’t…i don’t want you to go. ever. never ”

it can’t be easy. joe, a man who’s never quite been told of his significance to the world. a man who clings tightly to the vigilante work he does just to give him a reason to exist. an excuse. but it’s different now. he has her. willow, a woman so weightless that she has let the wind carry her for as long as she can remember. it is why none of this has made sense and perhaps it has been unfair of her to assume it would be easy for a man like joe to fall in line with their way of being. it’s only been easier for willow to engage in this whirlwind of a relationship because love is all she’s ever sought after. affection. but joe doesn’t even think himself worthy of this. and she wishes she could give him all that he thinks himself worthy of. but it is nothing. it is death if anything. and she still can’t seem to forget the way she would walk into his room with the tv remote in hand only to find him placing the blade of a knife into his mouth. 

her fingertips do not relent in their pursuit to make him feel better. they trace, now, over the scar on the center of his chest. lengthy and jagged. she wonders whether he had received such a nasty gash while in the fbi. or had it been after? one of those disgusting men that work at those playpens, capturing young girls to sell off to rich men who wish to buy them out. “ yes, ” she protests back, looking towards him with saddened eyes. does he not see that this has happened for a reason? that life or god has brought them together for reasons that are beyond them both? and why question it or push such sentiment away when they can both have what it seems they have always longed for. “ you deserve me and i deserve you. ” and she firmly believes this. perhaps this is why it didn’t work out with julie. the hellish woman with no heart. but willow remembered a time or two when something really terrible would happen at home. when her mother would catch her drunken father forcing her and david to play a round of russian roulette. when she would fall ill because the arguments weighed too much upon her weak heart. it didn’t matter what the circumstance was. her mother would always smile sweetly, and place her delicate hand over willow’s. everything happens for a reason. the good and the bad, my willow tree. and maybe fate had only thought it reasonable that joe would be made to wait fourteen years for a woman so unlike him. so unlike julie. 

and she closes her eyes as he tugs her closer. she would complain of how difficult he makes it to breathe if not for the fact that she feels her safest when he is so close. “ don’t apologize. ” she murmurs, lifting her other hand to tangle into his mess of curls. “ i won’t go anywhere. i’ll stay with you as long as you want me to. ” all she can hope for is forever. 

[darksct]

flcksin‌:

he likes her. and he is not a poet or a romantic. he does not know what words to say to make her fall to his knees and hold his hands with pleading that he never leaves her. bruno however does have charm. he can charm women as he can men. women to do as he says, and yet he has always been adamant that he will not force himself upon women. no. it brings him great dissatisfaction. to offer a comforting embrace and to be rejected as if he will do something more than what he intends. he has had few of an argument around this topic, but few are enough. he does not need more. and he barters with men - charming them to choose one of his girls. all experienced, he will say, to make it appealing. to make it known that they will provide pleasure - it is a definitive. his girls do not let him down. he has no complaints received from the men who pay him for such pleasures.

“ do you think i’m a liar? ” and he furrows his brow a little, as though concerned over the idea. she believes him, and this makes her a fool. but bruno has approached her enough now, seeing her back against the wall. how close they are. and how she smells of the cocktail he has made her. a cocktail that she has drunk and it has clearly gone to her head, albeit not enough to make her lose her senses. she is still a smart, and intelligble woman. but she likes him, and this is an answer that satisfies him enough. that she likes him in the same way that he likes her. that he does not repulse her. that the scar above his lip does not make her grimace at him as if he is a monster. a scar that has been caused within a fight, a knife pulled upon him  - cutting the skin when he had attacked the man who had destroyed a potential relationship he had fallen into with a clean, elegant woman. destroyed all because a man told her of what bruno does. the same man who had even taken the woman to the theater to see with her own eyes. he had wanted to kill that man.

“ they gossip ” he muses, all too knowingly. “ i hope they’re still kind to you ” he says, and he looks to her for any change in her expression or body language that may say differently. he would not allow the girls to mistreat nor reject one another. they’re to be a family unit. to be safe and to be happy with one another. accepting. “ hm…maybe just breaks for now, hm? i think we can leave the idea of a proposal for the time being ” and his hand raises now, if only to touch her cheek, crawling down her face so that he may touch her jaw - to get her to focus upon him. so that her eyes meet him instead of the corners of the room. “ i think you would make a worthy accomplice. perhaps if they unionise we may still their money for ourselves and run off to california ” hot and sunny. his hand soon removes from her, less invasive now. less intrusive. he teases her - giving into this idea that his business may corrupt. “ the drink has gone to your head ”

“ i think you are the kind of man that makes the truth, no matter how painful, sound beautiful. ” and this, she thinks to be her truth. she may believe him but it is not without the slight doubt that he may just be speaking to please her in ways that the men cannot. because when they speak, it is only funny things. praises and words that sound like gibberish when she lifts her hand over their mouth and forces them to fall silent. you are a goddess. i wish i could remain inside you all day ... what is your name? and their talkative ways only compensate for their inexperience. and willow is left to silence them with the snap of her hips against them, drawing out shuddered groans that force them to finish sooner than they would hope. “ i would know because i can do the same thing. ” and now she pretends that there is a possibility that this is all a lie. a grand scheme that willow knows well she cannot live up to. the alcohol has loosened her, creating for a woman more foolish and silly than she should be. 

“ they are. yes. ” she does not hesitate as she speaks these words, though the blink of her eyes might suggest that a lie has been subtly uttered past her lips. “ it is a competition, is it not? we must each outperform the other to earn the most money at the end of the day. ” some may fade in the background, finding contentment with what they can get. but willow is nothing of the sort. she reckons that if she must do such things, then she might as well be best at it. after all, she spends her money irresponsibly. an imitator of the rich, the woman collects catalogs to sew together pieces that present her differently to the world. a woman deserving of decency and respect. yet it is no secret that willow returns every day to the darker parts of the city so that she may perform in the theatre. “ i am glad that you can agree. i don’t quite think i am ready for marriage. ” a joke that prompts another chuckle to bubble past her lips. 

“ of course i would. i am much smarter than you. ” and now she is pushing herself up off the wall ever so slightly, an attempt to inch herself closer to him. and she meets his touch, leaning into his hand as he strokes her cheek. she hasn’t been shown such kindness in years. the men are not allowed to touch her face — to kiss her. and perhaps it is for the best. it is the only part of her that remains unscathed and unbruised. “ yes, i believe it has. i think i shall call the cops and tell them that you have made a drunkard of me. ” it is illegal to consume alcohol and willow is sure to be incriminated as will he for having gin in his home. “ perhaps you are to silence me once and for all by pressing your lips forcefully tonight. ” she wants his kiss. his mouth feverishly pressed to hers. “ and, this, you cannot say is the drink. for i have stared at your lips all night as you have read to me. ” even in her sober state, she could not help but allow her gaze to cast over his lips. and she does just this now, mesmerized by him. “ it is the only part of me that has gone untouched and it awaits you, bruno. i think this has been our joint fate for some time now. ” 

[darksct]

flcksin‌:

and now she is behind him. fully clothed in the shower, with her arms wrapped around the expanse of his chest. shut up. and he does exactly that. if he’s quiet then he won’t say something stupid. then he won’t push her away. then he won’t ruin moments between them that are otherwise sentimental and content between the pair of them. instead they will be comfortable - instead they will be at ease. and he will not self-sabotage the best relationship he has ever had within his life. the best person he has ever met, willow. a beautiful woman who has made him smile more in his life than ever before. who has made his cheeks ache with how much he smiles or laughs. and he tries not to smile too often. but when she achieves this from him, he is relentless. and he anticipates her to be angry with him. to wish to hurt him. to wish to leave him. but now she holds him, as if he is the victim in all of this. “ okay ” he agrees, if only because it means he should be quiet - that he confirms he will follow in silence.

and he hears her words. when are you going to let me save you? and he wants to ask what he needs saving from. but this is naive. ignorant. he knowsthe answer already. feeling her kiss his skin with soft lips against the bruises, against the expanse of his flesh. he tortures himself. he is his own worst enemy and perhaps he always would be. there was no one who could loathe joe as much as himself. “ i don’t know ” and at least he’s truthful with this. and he is - because within this shower, he feels emotionally open. vulnerable. “ i.. ” and he wants to tell her everything. every ounce of what bothers him. of what trauma he suffers. but he’s withheld. stuck. “ i don’t think i deserve you ” and perhaps this is what weighs him down the most. that he can suffer with so many thoughts, but this is what lays on his head the most. “ you’re going to leave ” and he believes this more than anything. because she may love him, but can she withstand him for so long? “ i’ve…i’ve experienced so many bad things willow. and i’ve done so many bad things too…i don’t…everything points to how i don’t deserve you ”

and he moves now, so he’s front-facing her. ignoring the fact he’s nude. her clothed. “ you‘re wet  ” he says, factually true. obvious. but he holds her now, against his chest and pressing a kiss - firm and tender - against her forehead. “ how can i promise you? i…i have to take care of you ” but he pauses. he can’t make her cry again. not like this. “ i promise..”

she wants him to allow himself to fall against her — to trust her with his heart as she does him. but she cannot force him, such a thing has already been proven time and time again. she supposes there will come a time where one of them will finally yield. and willow wonders whether it’ll be her. “ i don’t think you hurt him to help me forget him. ” she speaks softly against his skin, her voice tremoring as she speaks through the tears in her eyes and the dull scratch of her throat. willow feels suffocated and she doesn’t know if its the heat of the water or the troubled ache in her chest. “ i think you did it so that i would forget you. ” he keeps giving her reasons to leave — reasons to think, i can’t do this anymore. it’s too much. “ and ... i don’t get it. ” she has thought all this time that it was her. that it was because of her past as a prostitute. but it isn’t. maybe it’s easier for joe to dichotomize the way he thinks about the world. about the relationship that he has found himself within. if there’s good, then there’s bad. and he thinks willow is a victim, a woman who has only come to love him because she has been forced to. and this makes him a bad man. 

“ i think you deserve me. ” and she can only whimper out as he moves around to hold her close. her fingertips continue to touch over his skin, how it is riddled of bumps where he has been hurt in the past. they each tell stories that she has yet to hear. stories that he will not tell her because they welcome memories of the trauma he has endured. “ no, ” she insists in a small voice. whispered as she presses her lips over his collarbone. “ you’re all i’ve ever wanted and we ... we deserve each other. ” willow’s never been more insistent of such a thing in her life. she loves him. she craves him in such a way that exceeds all else. had it been anyone else, willow would have raced for the hills long ago. and he tests her patience and she tests his. they push and pull and yet they cannot deny that life would not be the same without the other in it. “ you don’t have to be scared with me. i-i know julie hurt you. a-and i know i’m not perfect, ” she sighs out. “ i know i annoy you and sometimes you want me gone but, ” willow hugs him closer as though he might disappear at any given moment. “ you’re safe with me. ”

she tilts her head back now, looking towards him. “ you’re safe with me, ” she repeats.

[darksct]

flcksin‌:

bruno tries to think of what his life had been like before he had found her. simple perhaps. it had been straight forward. he had been managing his girls - all happy. all of whom embraced him with hugs and kisses to his cheek when they thanked him, when they had a good show at the theater, and when they said goodnight to him. but then he had focused upon the woman. willow. golden hair and she looked so much more different than the rest of his girls. and perhaps from the moment he had seen her he liked her. he had manipulated their environment, and manipulated the world around them so that she was forced to be close to him. so they were forced to talk - to interact - and now in this situation that they were in. him, having to confess that he likes her more than he should. albeit, he keeps withheld his thoughts on her working as a prostitute. how conflicting it is for him to like her, and yet to arrange for her to sleep with other men.

he chuckles a little at her words - a thin lip smile covering his face and creasing his eyes in the corners. showing the dimples he has upon his cheeks. and lighting his eyes. “ i know you enough, and what i know of you, i like. is that not a good enough answer? ”and he stands now, moving away from his position on the couch if only so he can close the distance between them. if only so he can ensure that he feels some dominance. for being sat, lowered in height comapred to her, makes him feel vulnerable. but now, he stands. strong and tall. “ and this is all very well, willow, but do you not like me? ” a question that makes him, as well vulnerable. open. but he is used to rejection. he is charming, but temporary for many women. after all, who will find interest in a man who earns his money from other women parting their legs for men he arranges to bed them?

“ willow, ” he breathes and there is a shift in his temprement. “ i will beat anyone who hurts you to death. you’re safe here with i ” and he has been nothing but a man of his word when he is with her. he had promised to only introduce her to gentle men, and he had done exactly that. he would also promise to ensure she is safe. to ensure that she feels safe - secure - comfortable as much as she can be. and now he hears her words. unionize prostitution. big words for such a small woman. and she never fails to amuse him. “ you use my feelings against me? tsk, tsk, willow ” he says, tutting his tongue at her. “ you will make me look like a fool ”

she has never seen him smile, not as he does now. and willow watches him often. discreet and cautious, but even in the most crowdest of rooms she cannot help but find him. and he does smile when he is speaking to the men looking for companionship. he is a trader of sorts, a man who acts just as the girls do. because if bruno doesn’t put on a warm enough facade, the men will think he runs a sham of a business. they will head on to the next theatre where perhaps they are to be met with a man who can bargain better, who are smoother with their choice of words. and willow supposes she has never seen a more pleasant sight than that which bruno graces her with now. she likes how his eyes crinkle at the corners — how his lips curl inward, making the scar on his face more prominent and noticeable. and she smiles too if only because she knows that she is ridiculous. “ it is an answer that suffices, yes. ” he likes her. maybe it is best not to ask too many questions concerning such a feeling. there are parts of life that cannot be explained. aspects of one's being that simply just are. and though they may be a prostitute and her procurer, they are also but a woman and man. willow and bruno. 

for she very much feels like just a woman when he asks her if she likes him. he asks this not of the prostitute, but of the woman. do you like me as a woman does a man? “ this is a question that does not need answering, bruno. for you have told me to leave and yet i cannot find it in myself to do such a thing. ” a confession that she brings herself to say as he nears her. and there is a glint of mischief in her expression now. “ yes. i like you. ” and she’s thought many times before that what she has felt for him is blatant hatred. but is there not a blurred line between hatred and other things? hatred and lust. hatred and love. “ and i feel like the biggest fool because i believe you when you say these words to me. ” she would back herself further against the wall if she could but she can’t. the last attempt at a resistance that they both know will prove fruitless in the end. because willow is a woman that speaks her mind. even in her state, she speaks truths. 

“ i do not wish that you hurt anyone. ” she purses her lips, thinking for a moment. “ not for me. ” but she can see it now. she can picture bruno hunched over a man, punching him over and over until his knuckles go bruised and red of blood. “ you already do enough. ” small breaks bi-weekly. she cannot ask for more. but then she is smiling, a tiny laugh slipping past her lips. “ you do not need my help with such a thing, bruno. or do you not know that all already know of your schoolboy crush. ” and they torture willow for it. they think her responsible. a vixen who has crawled her way to his heart when she has never done more than place her hand atop his. “ anything more that you do for me will be one notch shy of a marriage proposal. and then it will be them who unionize and claim me your accomplice. ”

[darksct]

flcksin‌:

the shower is calming him. the water running over his skin as he stands in the shower, naked and exposed. the blood comes off easily from his skin and taints the water a slight pink before it rushes down the drain. he finally notices the bruises on his body. purple and black, painting his skin with a picture of what had happened earlier that night. when he had been in a battle with the man who had violated and taken advantage of her. the man who had hit her. and joe had hit him back, using a hammer against his skull until he is unnoticeable. until he is but a skeleton with a face that is so unrecognisable, similar to a potato being mashed. crushed. and he had felt good about it when he had dumped the body elsewhere. he had felt good to be in the realisation that the man was no more. that perhaps willow’s dreams would be more eased with the knowledge that they were simply nightmares. that a man like himself does not still roam, guilt and consequence-free from the behavior he had executed upon her.

but then he hears her voice, invasive in the bathroom. it tears through the sound of the water pouring through the showerhead and steaming the room. “ no ” he says a bit too sharply perhaps. he’s turning back into himself. defensive and distant. something willow time and time has scolded him for. too many stagnant words being shared between them upon such a theme. and perhaps this is why he retracts a little, elaborating instead of giving her a one word, blunt answer. the same as he would have done so when she had first entered this cage as an injured bird. an injured canary bird who he was as perplexed by as she, by him. “ no. im naked and…” that’s not a good enough reason. of course he’s naked. “ ive got a few bruises and wounds. you won’t want to see that ” he murmurs and perhaps this is enough to make her go elsewhere. to make her consider that she wishes distance from joe. for he does not wish to look her in the eye to only see sadness. for her to consider him but a monster, a man who kills for fun rather than to avenge those who have been hurt. he wishes not to ruin the image she has of him. the image she has made of him that is so glorious to what anyone has ever thought of him before.

no. he doesn’t need her help. but willow is like a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. she won’t give up unless he’s physically pushing her away. “ i don’t care about that. ” and maybe he’s right. she doesn’t want to see his bruises nor the wounds upon his skin. wounds she can only imagine were inflicted upon by james during their fight. he’s smaller, thinner but isn’t the type to go down without a fight. and she tries to veer her thoughts away from the images in her mind of a scuffle between two men. both of whom have touched her life in such profound ways. past and present coming together to battle over the only thing they share. willow, the common denominator. “ joe, ” she huffs out, reaching out to slide her hand over the shower curtain. and she doesn’t think. willow never considers her actions longer than a few seconds. it’s exactly what prompts the woman to step foot into the shower with all of her clothes on. he’s got his back facing her and she can see the skin that has already begun to bruise over his shoulders and down his back. and she reaches out, tracing her fingertips over the expanse of his back before she is closing the distance between them. her hands are on him, keeping his in place as she hugs him. “ just ... please shut up. ” shut up. she doesn’t want to hear him tell her that she’s crazy, that she was just arguing with him a minute ago. 

willow closes her eyes, ignoring the way the water flows through her clothes, soaking the fabric she wears as she keeps him held close. and she sniffles, tears falling past her eyes and down her cheeks again. what a weakened woman she is. a true walking and talking contradiction. maybe she has nothing to be sure about with the exception of her love for joe. her devotion to him, as it seems she cannot remain angry with him when he means well. “ you keep on saving me, ” and her lungs feel as though they might collapse. her body feels hot all over, her soaked clothes weighing down upon her. “ when are you going to let me save you? ” when are you going to let me love you? she wants to ask, but she’s gone silent now, crying and supplementing her words with small kisses along his skin. 

“ don’t ever do something crazy like that for me. ” her eyes are closed to avoid the droplets of water from falling into her already burning eyes. “ promise me, joe. ”

[darksct]

flcksin‌:

romance. she wishes to read romance novels with him again. for him to listen to the pronunciation of each syllable that falls from her lips and imagine that perhaps in one other life it may be them. perhaps this is what he is to think. for she is but a woman of the night now and he the man, the vendor, who allows patrons to bed her. and perhaps he is kinder than other men in this industry. he will confer with her beforehand what men want her company and she is able to decline, but typically, bruno discusses it in such a way that makes it hard for any of his girls to decline. to refuse or to reject the opportunity. because they are all as desperate as each other. because they know that they can earn so much money allowing their bodies to be taken by men they do not know. for they would not earn half the money they earn in fifty years if they took the position of a seamstress.

and now she elaborates, and he hears it so. the girls who work for him have said that he favors her. they have said that he likes her beyond being simply an employee. a functioning part of the assembly line he has conducted. he has liked her from the very start of their companionship. i don’t want you to do this. but the truth is, you have to. he has spoken such words to her when he has been encouraging her to work for him. and perhaps even then he had wished for her not to debase herself in such a way because he felt a sense of longing towards her. a sense of security and the realisation that he could be comfortable around her. this woman with her little quirks and oddities that he is not used to, but has grown fond of. “ you have not seduced me. i am in no need of seduction ” he says to her, for he is not one of the many men who lay beneath or above her. he does not resist the fact he is attracted to her. “ they are right. i like you - but as you. not as these men do ” clarification. an emphasis. “ i like your personality, willow. your beauty is a bonus to what i already feel and think of you ”

and he pauses now, if only so he can study her reactions with his intense green eyes. “ does this make you uncomfortable? ” he wishes for this not to be the case. he does not wish for her to hear these words and quake in her heels at the thought that he spends time with her feeling something stronger than simple contentment when in her presence. “ i like you very much. do you understand? it’s not the same as what those men do or feel for you. and what they say ” he tries to wear down his feelings somewhat, to weaken them, if only so it will make it easier for her to dismiss them if she does feel uncomfortable. uneasy. “ it’s simply a schoolboy crush ”

what a secret she keeps from bruno. and perhaps he would look at her with different eyes if he knew that she had come from a well off family living just a few hours from the city. a family that has no interest venturing into these parts as they have no interest in finding their daughter that had run away ten years ago. they likely suppose that she is off somewhere shaming the family name. and she does just this, ruining her legacy by falling into the arms of men who will never know her name or story. it is different for willow, a woman who unlike those the girls that bruno has picked, does have a place to run to if she so wishes. willow could return home like a dog with its tail curled between her legs, admitting defeat. but she does not do such a thing. for going home will be an inescapable prison. at least here, in the clutches of a man like bruno, she can still escape to the city and feel the wind in her hair. she can dance and she can read. things she would seldom be allowed to do under her father’s careful watch. 

and she hears these words. it seems only he ever speaks words of truth to willow. and she can feel her cheeks flush a light shade of pink when he says these words. he likes her, but not by way of seduction. bruno likes the woman she is. the woman she presents herself to be. “ but ... but you do not know me, bruno. ” and perhaps this is of no importance. because does she not also like him? does she not ask him to read, only so that she may allow her gaze to flicker across his features and linger over his moving lips? does she not lie to him about how she has come to like her job just so that she can please him? the woman keeps her back pressed to the wall as though this is the only thing that will keep her from toppling atop his lap and closing the distance that she has created. but there is a question that lingers on the tip of her tongue. inquiries that pose a challenge to him as all those that she conjures up in her mind do. if it is true that you like me as you say then why am i still sleeping with those men? 

“ except you are no schoolboy, bruno. ” he is a man of intellect and rationale. a man that knows that this is not how one treats a woman that they like. and with this, she wants to tell him to take accountability for his behavior. for the way he feels. but willow knows her place. this reality, not even the drink in her system can stir. “ it does not discomfort me. it ... shocks me. ” because she is not a woman to be liked. only to be lusted after, to be admired and praised but not for her personality. “ you should know that you are not the first man who i have worked for in such a way as this. i have done so before except it has been against my will and ... it hurt me. ” perhaps he already knows this. no woman who has never done this could flirt as she does. “ but i warn you against your liking of my intellect. for now that i know this, i will not be able to stop myself from sharing more with you. ” and perhaps this is a confirmation that she wants him to like her. to want her. “ one day you may wake to learn that i have led a revolt to unionize prostitution. ” unionize. she had read this on the economy section of the papers again. “ and you will regret ever entrusting me with such information. ”

[darksct]

flcksin‌:

he did it for her. he did everything for her. they’ve been having a rocky time together lately. he’s been pushing her away or she’s been preoccupied with thoughts. and he doesn’t mean for it to be this way, but he had thought to make it good again, would be to eliminate what was between them. him. james. the man who clearly goes gallivanting around the neighbourhood torturing her with his mere presence. the memory of what he has done to her. because he hit her. and joe knows this. is he not the vigilante that she explains him to be? the white knight who saves little girls from demonous men?

“ i do hurt men who hurt little girls. he hurt you! ” and was she not a little girl back then? perhaps not in terms of age nor physical appearance, but she had been seemingly just as innocent. just as defenceless and that’s why she had been an easy target for men like james. men who only know how to exploit people. and he had looked after her now as he always would. stood there, covered in a man’s blood of whom he has brutally murdered. cold and calculated but there was more emotion from him in this beating. more realisation that this man has hurt someone he loves. but she’s crying. not relieved. not happy. he’s no saint in all of this. perhaps he’s just one of the line of men who have hurt her. and although this is not directly hurting willow with his own hands, it’s an indirect assault.

“i-I didnt-” he is stuttering and falling over the words he speaks as if he is just a little boy. a little boy being scolded for an action he had not realised would have such consequences. “ i did this so you’d be happy. so…he won’t haunt you anymore” but maybe this is worse than that. now joe moves away, and he goes to clean up. he goes to freshen up if only so he can shower. if only so he can run his hands against his face with the inability to acknowledge the weight of his actions until now.

james has hurt her. this is true, it’s all true. but willow has never meant to be just another helpless victim to him. it is why she struggles so when he questions the way she feels for him. when he tells her that she is just a woman suffering and falling in love with her captor. “ i’m not a victim, joe. ” she’s only a victim when he makes her out to be such a thing. willow thought she could have reshaped her life after leaving the brothel — that she could ignore the thoughts and memories that have kept her entrapped for most of her life. but joe has brought them to the forefront. he has allowed the darkness to infiltrate these four walls, once a paradise to her. the little canary bird that has now been forced against the bar of the cages. “ it happened to me, yes. ” she nods her head, brows furrowed as she looks towards him with saddened eyes. “ and i wasn’t like those little girls. no one came to save me, ” and she squeezes her eyes shut, forcing herself to acknowledge a painful truth. how she has thought of it time and time again. how different her life would have been if a man like joe would have spared her of a decade’s worth of pain. “ but it’s okay. it’s ... it’s life. ”

it’s okay because she doesn’t feel so sad anymore. at least, she didn’t. joe saved her anyhow. he came to her rescue just when she had come to accept the idea that her life would forever be riddled of random men and time spent alone. but he had swept her up into his arm’s grasp and he has kept her safe there. and she has accepted it without thought. a sigh falls past her lips as he turns away and heads into the bathroom. and willow is quiet as she folds his clothes over the surface of the mattress. she loves him anyhow and she won’t leave him for this. 

her footsteps are light as she treads towards the bathroom. her fingertips slide over the expanse of the door before lowering to the knob. and she’s slow as she turns it. willow has only interrupted joe once while in the shower. an avid attempt on her part to seduce him like the women do in the movies. a quiet and sultry, ‘ can i join you? ’ before letting the robe she wore over her body fall to the ground. it has now been replaced with the sound of willow’s sniffles drowned out by the running showerhead. “ joe, ” she calls out. she can never stay away. she’ll learn to live with this as she’s learned to live with the rest. it isn’t the worst thing in the world to be thought a helpless victim. “ do you need help cleaning up? ”

[darksct]

flcksin‌:

“ perhaps ” next time. next time he allows her to have a break. next time she is within his presence, reading to him on the couch. perhaps it would be he who stares at her as her lips move with each word that flows from her lips. and he would sit there, listening quietly, as if he is being schooled on a great many things. he would be patient as he listens and irritated at any noise outside or inside the apartment block that may invade the softness of her voice when it speaks to him. “ i have charles dickens novels, jane austen novels, charlotte bronte…” he trails off listing some of the novels he has upon the shelf within his room. novels by female authors. a perspective of a woman. it’s progressive for a man to keep such literature and yet, he does. perhaps because bruno is progressive, or perhaps he is simply progressive in how he uses such literature to his advantage. to be able to see the world from a woman’s perspective so it may be advantageous to him.

he listens as she explains herself. the men say funny things. and he supposes that they do. he imagines that she will be the most beautiful woman they’ll ever lay in bed with. albeit bruno has always made it so that they do not kiss her. but most never do anyhow, he suspects. kissing is intimate. these men are young and youthful. some older than she. all of whom still fall into the same category of simply wanting intimacy. fast. for sex is a delectable thing. they do not want to have to earn it but rather to buy it. “ im glad they amuse you, willow ” his voice is light as if this is something more to be pleased of. and he supposed he should be pleased. she does not cry in front of him. she does not beg to stop working. she continues to do so and finds entertainment within it. perhaps this is enough.

and now he watches her. how she stands close to his door, as if she is to leave but uncertain of it. his gaze taken by her when she speaks his name as if it is so natural from her mouth. and he hears her words, causing lines to show across his brow. confused. but also concerned. “ what do the girls say? ” he asks, and now it is his turn to be naive. to guess what the other girls may say of the two of them. what gossip they share. mothers tales. just gossip, he would think. but he looks upon willow now as if anticipating a response. “ i don’t know what they say, willow ” he lifts himself from his position on the couch. he can feel his back click slightly by the movement, slightly stretching himself before he would retire to his own room. close the door and occupy himself with books or daydreams until he fell asleep. “ but the girls don’t often lie, if that gives you an answer ”

“ perhaps we are to read bronte in that case. jane eyre. a narrative of romance and equality between a husband and wife. ” romance. she loves the romance, to place herself in a state of mind that is unlike any aspects of her life. the closest thing she has ever had to a lover happened to be a man who sold her body off for those who would pay a miserable price. a man who would hit her more than he would kiss her. and so it pleases her to read about these women, noble and beautiful and dismissing the suitors that attempt to woo her. and she does not yield to their incessant ways, instead, choosing the man best suited to her liking. and perhaps willow attempts to live through these women — to imagine herself in such a state that men would cower with the wave of her hand. and they will call her a goddess outside of the confines of a bedroom. she will not have to be atop a man that writhes and groans beneath her just to hear these words. 

she turns, leaning against the door to rest her weight upon it. willow debates whether she should tell him what the girls speak of him. what they would say in the bathhouses. the woman doesn’t know why she worries for his response — why she wonders with great curiosity whether he will laugh in her face over such a notion. but then she hears his words. the girls don’t often lie. they have been conditioned to speak truths. “ they say that i am favored by you. ” she begins with this, a way to ease them both to what she truly means to say. “ they say that you favor me because you like me. ” she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip in deep thought over this. she has promised to silence her words. to suppress them because she has had too much gin. but willow feels that if she has any rapid-fire slip of the tongue, he will quickly disregard this because of the drink he has prepped for her. “ and they believe that i have seduced you in some way but i cannot think ... ” she pauses. she cannot think of a moment that she has ever thrown herself in his direction. has she batted her lashes at him? or spoken of him in such a way that would warrant such feelings? it does not occur to her that bruno may like her simply because of who she is. willow, the incessant woman who may have fallen silent in submissiveness, but always grimaces when someone says something that she does not like. who makes faces and utters jokes underneath her breath. 

“ i wish to hear it from you. ” this may be one of many things that should remain unspoken between them. because it is willow, also, who finds herself conflicted with feelings of longing towards him. feelings that she cannot deny on nights such as these where it is just the two of them. 

[darksct]

❛ i handled it — because you couldn’t. ❜ / @flcksin​ ( choosing bb joe bc why not )

“ you didn’t — ” she cuts herself off. she’s at a loss of breath just as she is of words. her hands are pressed to her chest trying to steady the rapid beating of her heart. and she tries to do those whacky breathing exercises she’s seen on youtube. a natural alternative to handling panic attacks. and only because she’s run out of her little rectangular pills. the ones she takes when she feels particularly on edge. why does she feel like this? like something is eating away at her brain. she thinks of her brother david. how he’d tightly grasp her neck in his hands, tears rolling down his cheeks. there is something wrong with me, he’d say through gritted teeth. and willow would be speechless, breathlessly fighting against his assault. her fingernails digging into his skin but he would not relent. i have bugs inside of my head. i can feel them scratching. 

that’s how she feels now. like there’s something inside of her that shouldn’t be there. like she’s done something to warrant joe stumbling into their apartment, bloodied at the hands and neck. “ this isn’t you. ” and she doesn’t even realize that she’s been crying until she looks up, feeling the wetness of tears on her neck. “ you don’t kill just anyone. you hurt the bad guys that attack those little girls. ” but he’s killed james instead. a man she had seen for the first time in years. a man responsible for the scars, small and big, scattered across her skin. and maybe that’s the problem. willow has always been just another wounded girl to joe. it’s why he buys her candy bars when she’s sad — why he lets her get away with doing the things she does. it’s why her tears sway him when he says things that hurt her. 

but maybe it’s all warranted. she remembers last week when she’d stumbled out to pick up candy at tiger’s convenient store. joe had been out running errands and she wanted to surprise him with a shit ton of snacks. he always gives her money to buy things of necessity and willow ends updoing just the opposite. but she’d seen him there. james. and he had followed her down three blocks before she had pushed her way into a crowded bus that would take her to the other side of the city. it had taken her two hours just to get back home to joe. the first time she had been gone longer than twenty-three minutes. and maybe that’s what hurts her the most. he credits his involvement to her lack of action in the matter. he had handled it because she couldn’t. because she’s too weak to fight back. 

and so she rises from her spot on the floor, fighting through the rippling feeling of her chest being torn apart just so she can set aside clean clothes for joe. a dutiful girlfriend she is. “ go get cleaned up, ” she sniffles. “ i don’t want to see all that blood. ”

[darksct]

flcksin‌:

“ no i have not ” she is beautiful and intelligent. most of the girls he works with cannot read. perhaps this is why he is able to take such advantage. to allow them to believe certain things because he misconstrues the truth. with her it may have been a little more challenging if he was not experienced enough within this game, but he is. he knows how to get what he wants for the sake of his livelihood. he knows what women fear and he can use this to his benefit. “ do you like to read? i have plenty of books you could borrow ” kindness, he plays it well. but it feels somewhat more sincere when he speaks to her. this woman who looks different to the other girls he looks after. they’re all brunettes, dark haired, except for one red haired girl. it seems men have a preference, and they only go for the girl with red hair out of intrigue. because it is something new. because all of them have assets that make them worthy. that make them appealing to the kinds of men who will be seeking their companionship. men who are inexperienced or advised to sleep with a prostitute because they are not manly. a term used to describe men who seek the company of other men. something bruno specialises in, outsourcing men who are willing to sleep with another for a higher price. but this is not often a case he is encouraged to deal with.

“ you should not confuse work with pleasure ” but is this not what bruno should want? his women to enjoy their work so they continue to do so. so that he needn’t be exasperated by his valiant attempts to convince them over and over again to continue objectifying their bodies. perhaps there is a sense of jealousy in his tone. that he should keep to himself. he cannot be withholding of the girls who work for him. they are merely assets. machinery upon a finely tuned assembly line that work efficiently and productively so that he may make enough money to save him as well as themselves from falling into an abyss of desperation. from falling down a hole that they cannot get out of despite how their nails will dig against the stone and bleed, they will be stuck there. but he likes her. perhaps he liked her from the very beginning and this is why he picked her out to prey upon. because he would have no other way of getting a woman like hers attention other than this. believe him, he has sought after more elegant, clean girls before. he liked one so much that he courted her but as soon as she discovered his occupation, something he had tried to keep hidden, she left. fast.

“ you are covered in too many bruises lately ” his voice is more serious now and his concern can be confused for her wellbeing. as though he does not wish to see her pained. hurt. “ are the men not gentle? ” bruno tries to be a man of his word, if that. he had convinced her to work for him to begin with, and he had promised her he would only allow men who are gentle to be within her bed. men who are inexperienced and who she will lead. not men who are rough and violent. he wishes her not to handle such individuals. he does not like the idea that once they leave her room, he will hear tears from her bed. “ your interruptions are never silly. our time together, i enjoy ” an admittance as he takes a deep, shallow exhale. as if the words hold weight for him to say. a man who is forced to be open if only because it will benefit him. but is that not only how words are used? to be said so he may get a reward or to be said so that they may be responded by a woman to his advantage.

“ you have drunk too much for your small frame. perhaps it will be orange juice for you from now on ” he teases her but his voice sounds so smooth and compelling still, as if he is simply making a wager. “ count sheep, not men, as you sleep, my willow tree. you know where i stay if you need me ” down the hall of the apartment. his own small room where theater posters lay upon the walls. where he sits on his bed and stares at the city rushing past outside.

“ i can pick up a copy at the bookstore. perhaps next time it will be i who reads to you. ” and she will do so in a slow manner. sometimes willow takes a minute or two just to make out words that she can’t remember. intelligently written words. language has changed some in the last ten years. newspapers are riddled with words she has never heard before. the news in the city is only meant for fancy business men. the wall street brokers and the factory owners. what an interesting thing it is for a woman of her kind to pick up the paper each day. but now it is only the words that bruno reads which rekindle her love of reading novels. she supposes she has just found a new way to pass the time. but she speaks of next time, as though anticipating more time with bruno. such a cruel man he is and yet willow cannot help but find something soothing about his company. something that feels natural. “ what do you have? ” she suddenly asks, intrigued to know what novels he reads in his free time. perhaps it is true what bruno says of her. of himself. they are alike in many ways. 

“ i thought you would be happy to know that i have begun to ... ” another pause. “ enjoy my work. ” she doesn’t. not always. there are still nights where she trembles in her bed — where her mind goes blank and she can only cry out in agony like a wounded woman. and she is left only to clasp her hand over her mouth to silence the sound of her own sobbing. a truly pitiful sound it is. but willow does not know what she means to tell him with these words. does she mean to tell him that he need not pay attention to her as he has? it’s okay, bruno. do not worry for me. it will all be as you wish. i will not leave. but she wonders if this is the truth — if she should not focus so on the idea of her duties bringing her an unexpected kind of pleasure. because of she doesn’t, then all she will think of is how all of this hurts her. how it takes a toll on her body as it does her mind. “ i mean to say that i, ” she huffs out. willow has spoken too much. she could blame the drinks she’s tended to. one and a half glasses of bee’s knees. “ i just like when they say things to me. it ... it’s funny. ” funny. nice. it makes her feel warm inside that men think her a goddess. that she isn’t a bug to be crushed under a polished shoe. 

“ they are gentle, ” she confirms in a soft voice. “ i simply bruise easily. ” she remembers when bruno had grasped her hand too tightly. his fingers had remained imprinted upon her skin in purple for days. “ they just ... they are men, ” and this is her excuse for everything she has found herself in. the manipulation, the charming words. it is the way of man to say all of the things that a woman would like to hear. “ they do not realize what they do until they can see the consequences for themselves. ” and surely, her clientele never does. willow steps towards his door now, looking over her shoulder once with a small smile on her face. and she stands by the door, perhaps too long for her own liking. because she’s hesitant. she doesn’t know if she would truly like to leave — if she is done with this break. a daunting moment it is. “ bruno, ” she breathes his name out, as though it has always been such a natural thing for her to say. “ is it true what the other girls say? about you ... and me? ”

[darksct]

flcksin‌:

bruno smiles ever-so-slightly at her interruption. they sit in a way of domesticity. she has become part of the furniture, and with that, it seems that she is also being used as an object too. but she makes money of course. discreet are they all in this industry. bruno providing her with the money when she asks for it - her share of the profit. and when exchanging such money, he would tell her that she can have a break. that she need not rehearse like the other girls for one night. one day. and perhaps this is because he has grown accustomed to her. fond if anything. but his fondness, or romantic interest in her means very little. he still takes advantage of those he cares for, and this seems to always be the case. if bruno knew how the other girls spoke, he would raise his voice at them. he would tell them to apologise, and they would, in a way they have been taught to do so. and she would accept, in a way he has taught to do so. confess, then you are to forgive by kissing her cheek. go! and this is an instruction each time. because sometimes the girls steal from one another - but if bruno finds out, they are so fearful of being cast away, desperate to keep working and work harder, that they oblige by any of his words.

“ anna karina,” he tells her when he finishes the verse. he watches her sip her drink. glad she enjoys it if only because it in itself is part of her break. another reward for doing well. for having to bed clumsy men. some innocent who scratch at her with their paws by accident. “ a story of a woman trapped by the institution of family ” he says, placing the book down for a moment onto the arm of the couch so he can rub his fingers against his clean-shaven cheek. his jaw, razor sharp. “ there are some fairly romantic parts within it. as there are in life ” even the most miserable of lives have romance within them. romanticist thoughts and feelings. perhaps this is why he likes the book so much. a story of a woman - a high socialite, who falls in love with the wrong man, before her life comes crumbling down. she becomes a changed woman. and is that not how his girls are? they have all hit rock bottom until bruno has helped to slowly build them up. he helps them to get enough money to free their brothers, fathers, sisters, and mothers from quarantine or incarceration. they all thank him for this. there is happiness on their faces when this is the case.

and bruno has noticed the bruises on willow’s skin. sometimes he thinks about telling the men who wish to sleep with her beforehand that she is as delicate as a flower. if they are too invasive, if they cause bruises once the job is done, then he will charge them for each bruise covering their body. he wonders how much extra profit he would make then. but even this thought is an act of his protectiveness of her. “ you should have an early night, willow. and wake up to go to the bath house ” he instructs, closing the book temporarily as he leans into the couch, slightly stretching his legs out against the floor. “ you should enjoy your time ” but this is inclusive of not wandering out into the dark alone. a thought he dislikes, if only because it means she will be hurt by men who are greedy. by men who violate and do not pay. “ perhaps reading a book with me, is too much of a reminder of the daily gruel hm? ”

humiliation by way of shaming — of forcing the women to get along when they do not. they already think willow a woman of bruno’s favor and she does not intend to further this by speaking of the complexities of her relationship with those who utter envious words under their breaths. the way they have turned a running joke into something serious. he likes you, willow. he can’t stop looking at you! trust us, we have been working with him for years. such a thing beyond her control has rendered willow, ignored when the other girls gather together to eat after a long night of work. she is left only to stand and watch them banter together, others comforting the girls that cry out of desperation. she doesn’t try to join in anymore — to earn their graces. it is not her duty to make friends with women who have no interest in her. it is her duty to serve the men that choose her to be with. to please the man that sits at her side now, reading a novel with such eloquence that she cannot help but stare.

anna karina. willow cannot say she has ever heard of such a novel. then again, this is only because willow has a fascination for fantasy and otherworldly subjects. as a teenager, she would sneak copies of books from her father’s library. she has read just about every novel written by a woman. the mary wollstonecrafts and jane austens. they were novels unturned by their father as he had no interest in the womanly word. willow reckons he has kept them there if only to appear scholarly and open-minded. the facade of a progressive man of reason and thought. the kind that speaks of the right of the female vote with great admiration. fabrication of the truth. for it is he, who is the reason that is daughter had left home. a daughter who he wished only see married with children. “ have you ever read the mysteries of udolpho? it is an interesting tale. gothic in nature with hints of romance as well. ” and perhaps he is correct. there is romance in everything. with every turn of the head, every flicker of gazes from one object to the next. romance is beauty and beauty can be found in almost anything.

is it not the ugliest parts of life that are also the most poetic and beautiful? and perhaps she thinks someday someone should write poems about bruno. of the way he blends the cruel and exquisite so well. a man of emerald hues and golden skin who speaks so softly. a trickster who preys upon the weak. but he advises her to retire — to enjoy her time. and she slouches in a state that would suggest how embarrassed she feels. if this does not suffice, then perhaps the sheepish smile on her face when she murmurs a quiet, “ i wouldn’t know how. ” willow only ever ventures off to the city to purchase candies and fabrics. she likes to sew — to create gowns that mirror the social elite. but she is too tired now, too sullen by the drink in her hand to bother with needlepoint. “ it is not so bad, ” a truth that she is sure he would be pleased to hear. “ the men are nice. they ... satisfy me. ” but not in the way he would think. it is not physical pleasure that she feels, but rather an emotional sense of belonging. she likes the sound of their breathless groans — the way they praise her as though she is a goddess. as though she is something. someone. “ the young men enthuse with their inexperience. ” but she rises to her feet, dizzied by the gin she’s consumed. willow is not a heavy drinker. she usually opts for something lighter. she straightens her posture with a short and nervous laugh. “ i shall leave you to your reading then. i am sure you can do without my silly interruptions. ”

[darksct]

“ you just wanted my attention. ” / @flcksin​

when he shifts like this, she knows something is wrong. he’s thinking again. about her, about everything. and joe always has these moments. moments where his rhetoric only exudes doubt in himself and in her. and these words, you just wanted my attention, might as well translate into ‘ you don’t want anything with me. this is just another game of yours, willow. ’ because he doesn’t believe her. she can rip her heart right out of her chest and place in his hands and he will still look at her as though she has gone mad. a real case of stockholm syndrome where he thinks willow a fragile bird that he has scooped from the ground. and now she perches upon his window pane despite the fact that he has let her go time and time again to fly about freely with her newly repaired wings. she always returns because he has offered her the warmth and comfort that no one else has provided her. and maybe it’s true. maybe willow is just some lost soul with no where better to turn. maybe she should just stop kidding herself. she and joe are bound to crash and burn. they aren’t good for each other. 

so why does she stand before him, fists enclosed as though she is ready to punch these thoughts out of his head? “ why do you always have to do this? ” a genuine question that she can’t help but ask. everytime they’re both in a good place, it feels like it’s just too much for joe. too good to be true so he does whatever he can to knock them both down to reality. but is this not real? is it too much for a pair like them — a prostitute and hitman — to find themselves enclosed within four walls where nothing but happiness exists? “ why can’t you just accept that you and i are together and that i love you? ” she loves him. it’s the third time she says these words but the first she does so in a sober state of mind. there’s no glass of wine in her hand, an easy way for her lover to dismiss her claims. she says it out of a drunken stupor. she doesn’t really love me. and she wonders what excuse he might use to explain why she speaks the way she does. “ you’re insecure, joe. ” an observation. a conclusion she has drawn after many discussions just like this because joe only gives in to his desires when she ignores him. when they both least expect it. “ and so am i. but we don’t have to act like that’s a good reason not to be together. ”

but maybe he doesn’t want her. maybe he just says the things he says because he’s trying to give her an excuse to leave first. maybe he wants to get rid of her. “ and it isn’t a good reason for you to treat me like i ... ” she pauses, swallowing down the lump that has fomed in her throat. her cheeks are hot, flustered if only because moments such as these make her second guess everything. “ like i can’t have feelings just because i’m a prostitute. ” she speaks in present tense, as though she still yet parts her legs for men who pay for it. “ like everything i feel isn’t real just because i’ve had guys hit me in the past. ” an admittance of her abuse. a confirmation that there’s always been something beyond the job that has contributed to her unwavering sadness.

willow’s gaze flickers elsewhere, eyes glossing over as she raises her hand to trace over her blonde tresses. desperation, agony. it’s what she feels in these moments. “ just tell me if you want me to leave, joe. man up and tell me that you want me gone and i’ll go. ”

[darksct]

Imagine finding both love and friendship in one person

[darksct]

flcksin‌:

reading a book together / @darksct​

protective of her. this is what he has become and perhaps this is why he allows her to have more breaks than the other girls. more rewards for working. rewards that go beyond just money but rather bruno asks time and time again if she wants to spend some time with him. it’ll be just the two of us. just you and i. he’d say and this would be met with a mixture of responses - sometimes what he assumes to be feigned eagerness and other times, clear hesistance. for is she not an actress? this path in life seemingly teaching her to be the greatest actress of all. and he should not complain about this. no. she has become the greatest asset. sure, the other girls bring in good money - but she brings in better money for him. men who ask bruno whether they can have her company. whether they can be shown around the neighborhood by her. and he obliges each time with a yes. of course. before speaking with willow privately, telling her that a man wishes to sleep with her. the least he can do is confere with her before the transaction goes ahead. half before, half after.

and whilst the other girls are out at the theater, working hard and being seen to by men - bruno is here. sat in his apartment with her, upon his couch, reading to her from his book. a book he had begun reading by himself but upon sitting closely to her, he would feel the intensity of prying, curious eyes, and he had began to read outloud instead. his voice smooth and warm - charming as it always is. as if he is any man other than himself. perhaps a highly educated man who has a respectable business. instead of one whom encourages and benefits from women using their bodies for profit. “ he stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking,” he breathes the words from the pages in the book, his fingertip carefully flickering the page to the next. “ all the variety, all of the charm, all of the beauty of life is made up of light and shadow ” and he speaks these words as if they inhibit him. as if they are apart of the blood that moves through his veins.

she is warm against him. sat so closely in the room where the record player plays a crooning song gently in the background. light and airy. it is calm in the apartment. not full of noise as it often can be when bruno returns with some of the girls who embrace him, thanking him for providing them with such opportunities. for helping them during desperate times. it is not full of noise at all, but rather only the sound of his voice, and the rhythm of them breathing between words. his hair slicked back, and he sits in a creased white shirt from where he is lounging, with only his black waistcoat as a reminder of the suit he wore earlier in its three-piece entirety.

a break. she figures bruno has learned to word it in such a way that will garner her interest. because when he uses alternative modes to refer to these moments, she is more likely to decline. and perhaps they bother her so because they are more fitting, as these moments lounged in her boss’s apartment are not quite breaks as they are rewards. a reward for her compliance, perhaps. her perseverance despite the way her eyes carry such pain and sadness within them. perhaps it is best that no one notices the way cerulean hues gloss over the moment she steps into the bathhouse to clean herself of the sweat on her body. to purge herself of the physical remnants of her moments with these men. oh, but she bruises so easily. and each day she is left with a new bruise to replace the last one that healed over. fingertips varying in size are scattered across her skin, telling the story of a woman who weeps like a child in the darkness of the night. or perhaps they say nothing beyond the fact that the men like her more than she would have expected. they like the words she speaks as they do the body that hovers atop, sinking over them and bouncing with great vigor. they like that she is not afraid to humor them with words. silly slips of the tongue that prompt laughter instead of the slaps upon her cheeks that she had endured before. 

the other girls have stopped speaking to her if only because their boss shows her unwarranted favoritism. all except one have turned their backs to her, often leaving willow in complete solitude. she is sleeping with him. why else would he invite her to his apartment? it is a complete lie, a fabrication of what truly takes place when he hopes to allow her some down time. she had read this word on the paper a few days ago. the rewards are an incentive for her to continue to behave. good behavior warrants one night of the week off of work. one night where she is not to feel hands upon her waist, or the taste of her own lipstick on her tongue smudged by the eager mouth of a young man. those come to the theatre often. boys in their early twenties hoping to practice on one of the girls. and bruno always welcomes them with open arms. please, he says with kind eyes. a facade. choose anyone you’d like. and she wishes now that she wouldn’t notice certain things about bruno during their time together. but she has come to learn so much that she can visualize nearly all of his little quirks in her head. and now she listens to him as he reads, her chin perched atop her enclosed hand as she pays close attention. and she does not mean to interrupt but does so if only with the soft whisper of a single word. “ beautiful. ”

she falls silent again, looking to the small coffee table before them and she reaches out, taking her glass with both hands and holding it up to her lips. a bees knees cocktail. her favorite. and she’s almost sure that the girls would narrow their eyes in envy at the sight. “ bruno, ” she hums. “ what book is this? it is so lovely and romantic. ” and she tilts the glass upon her lips taking a small sip.  

[darksct]

flcksin‌:

he goes to turn his back to her. to shun her out alike the rest of the world has done and will do. but she grasps his hand again - his larger, rougher hand. a hand that is met by her smaller one. petite and soft. warm. and he should not be as touch-starved as he is for a man in his position. a man who has girls all around him who he could beckon to his room if he so wished. but he doesn’t. they are to work for him, and he is to go after a clean - elegant woman. albeit this is not as achievable as one may think, if only because women such as those in his imagination do not go for men who have occupations such as his. is he not just another bug to be crushed beneath a shoe, such as she? are they not just two silent shadows on the walls, trying to get by in life. and when she looks at him with her ocean eyes, he falls weak if only because his assertiveness dies down slightly. weakened by touch and by the sight of her looking at him. but he knows what she thinks, and what she will think. i hate you, bruno. he has heard it many a time before. it will come as no surprise when she finally admits such a thing.

“ how will you make it up to me? ” and his other hand raises, if only to move to touch her cheek. his fingertips plant across the soft skin of her face, and he grazes against each part as if he is finding each vein, each bone that makes up her skull. as if he explores intimately, without being intimate in the typical sense of the word. “ i don’t want you to do this either, willow ” he whispers to her, alone in his home. his apartment. an apartment that is filled with other girls who work for him in other apartments in the block. but she resides with him - in his spare bed. he likes you, i know when he likes someone, willow. one of the girls had whispered in the bath houses across the street. and maybe he did. he’d been telling ellen, the theatre owner that willow is special. insisting it in fact. “ but it’s not my decision. the truth is, we both know that you’re going to see these men because for you, survival is more important than pride ” his voice is a continuous whisper, as if he is to speak as a lover, but the words are more haunting than that. “ these men will be very gentle. and no one will ever know. so tell me now if you do not wish to see them, and i’ll send them all away. but you must tell me now ”

and it pains him slightly to say such a thing. but she would not know this. she would not know his struggles and how his manipulation hurts him too. this life. but he cannot blame her for it. after all, it would be she parting her legs, not him. “ you and i are alike, willow. and you may hate me, but i am the only one who sees your worth. you are not nothing ”

her brows are furrowed as she tries to make out what he is thinking right now. should she cower away to avoid the swift motion of his roughened hand against her cheek? this has happened to her before. because willow can fall quiet by some modes and become extremely vocal about her displeasures by others. a range far too vast for anyone’s liking. and james would hit her because of this. he would grab a fistful of her hair and force her neck to jut forward against a sharpened blade that he would hold to it. he would threaten her life for begging to stay home for just one day. please, james. i ache all over. and she wonders whether bruno can pick it out through her words — can sift through the allusions she makes. she has done this before and she speaks only from experience. her soul will feel blackened by what she does and her heart ripped from the cages of her chest. “ i’m sorry, bruno. ” she repeats this again, her other arm that is bruised of his touch is raised to her chest as though to stop the rapid thump of her heart. 

he likes you, willow. i can see it in the way he looks at you. but she does not know what look that is, for it is only when they are within inches of one another that she can see the cruelty of his being. the way he means only to manipulate her. ‘ he doesn’t like me. i’m just new. ’ she’d mumble this back as though to dismiss all claims and she firmly believes this. he must keep a careful watch upon his new prize. his blonde moneymaker. “ i will do anything. ask me of it and it shall be yours. ” and willow doesn’t quite know what she is offering now. her body or perhaps something as mundane as a favor that he needs to be completed. she words them in the same way. as though to relinquish her body is the same as offering to pick up his mail from the post office every day. and is it not? is this not how he wishes for her to behave with him? her eyes are bright, widened as he begins to touch across her face. and it is soft and delicate despite the way his tough fingers scratch against her pale skin. her mouth is parted, so many words hanging from the tip of her tongue. words that she cannot bring her mind to string together in a coherent sentence. 

“ there is only one man i hate in this world and it is not you. ” but he may be added to the list if he so gives her a reason. not that it would mean much. willow is not a woman of wrath. she cannot fight, nor can she readily conspire. and he is right when he says there is nothing that this world can give her that is better than this. that is more sustainable. “ this is your business and i am an ...asset. ” she clears her throat, wondering if she is speaking in correct business terms. she has heard her brother speak of such things when they were still living in their family home in scarsdale. “ this renders me worthy to you. ” he likes you, willow. she ignores this sentiment. “ i will stay here and i ... yes. i wish to see the men. ” she can feel a painful lump forming in her throat. but she does her best to smile. an actress, she is. “ i will learn to enjoy their company. ” but she hadn’t learned the first time and perhaps it is true. she is not nothing. for a woman who truly thinks this would allow herself to fall limp and careless.