[Lost]

[sl4irl.livejournal.com]

( Which concentration camp were you guarding when you were Taken? )

Heartbreaker (October Writing Challenge)

[rebel-wulf.livejournal.com]

God, did it feel good to be him right now.
Come to think of it, God had nothing to do with it.
It just felt good to be him right now.
It might have been something to do with the girl underneath him, though.
Yes, that was probably it.

Her name was Maria, and she wanted to be in the music industry. She was a singer (and really, wasnt everyone these days?) and was trying to make the big time, Live the life. She had dreams and aspirations of a future that meant she would be remembered forever. And right now, she was in love with a man called Blake, who was going to bring her with him on his way up to superstar. He was a small guy but larger then life, with a kind of magnetism that just drew people in wether he was on the stage or not. A shock of red hair in a mohican, which was right now drooping a bit from their sweaty exhertions. There was a certain pleasant coolness to his skin against hers which she wa enjoying, and she wondered if he had felt the same. That thought came to an abrupt end as a door was opened by another woman, and there was a scream of anger and disbeleif, and there was a fight.
     Blake sighed, watched the fight carry on without him. Screaming and tears before bedtime. Two broken hearts at the same time, two wonderfully young and innocent hearts peirced with sharp and cold hooks with strings attached to them. He made himself a glass of water to drink as the fight was winding down and, one girl left shortly followed by another. Both had been crying. He smiled slightly to himself and wondered if they would ever know what he had done for them, that they were now safe. Then Blake made a little note of their names in a little black book with their phone numbers in it and pulled on his jeans. The dim electronic lights outsight made his metallic skin shine as he picked up his guitar and set himself down slowly on the sofa, pulling at the strings in a sad, and haunting melody. He'd written it just for them.