OPHELIA – CHAPTER ONE

Synopsis:

She showed up at his doorstep at sun down.
Her hair was disheveled, her clothes torn and stained with blood.

During the late summer storm, they were helpless against the passion they were forbidden to feel.

She couldn’t leave and he couldn’t let her. All through the night she enticed him with her words. He should not have been enticed. He should not have touched his claimed lips onto her sweet, innocent ones.

He woke to the sun on his face, the screams of his wife, no recollection of the night after that kiss, and a dead girl next to him.

He knew her story, he knew her body, and he even knew her name.

Ophelia

Please note that this book is not suitable for those under 18 as it contains explicit situations. Sex, Rape and Abuse are all present in this book.

Fireworks

Mitchell Livingston paced around the fancy car he had been given when he struck it as a promising reporter. His first article about a runaway from a small town reached people around the world with his touching and in depth analysis.

He watched the drunken elite and the elite hopefuls milling about the docks. He chuckled to himself. He used to be one of those hopefuls. The one-horse-town he came from, suffocated him. He had absolutely no remorse for the things he had done to get out.

Power and money was a tricky bitch that drove many a man to do the unspeakable.

He had no idea what he hoped to find, but the anonymous call intrigued him.

You would find an interesting story… something you have written about years ago.

What story it was, he did not know, but the very inkling of having to rise to fame by bringing up an old headline called to him in ways that only a true reporter would understand.

He finally decided to head over to the café that had a clear view of his car. Sitting at one of the small round tables, he ordered coffee and kept watch. As the waitress arranged his coffee on a napkin and laid a croissant next to it, Mitchell caught a glimpse of a beautiful woman dressed in a form fitting black dress.

Her large eyes glanced up as if she felt his gaze staring.

He nodded at her. “Celebrating the Fourth of July?”

She chuckled, the sound husky and dick hardening. “Is that the only reason people come to the Hamptons?”

He shrugged. “It’s why I would come here, if not for business.”

“And what business are you here on?” she frowned.

“I’m a reporter,” he said.

She grimaced. “Not such a fan of them, honestly.”

“And why is that?” he also frowned. “Do you also believe we pry and endanger people’s lives? Because all we try to do is get the news out there, to warn others.”

She leaned back in her chair, and pushed her long dark tresses away from her face. “No, what I don’t like is the need you all have to make the truth, tragedies, and real life occurrences into a sensationalized story.”

“But—”

She waved her hand in the air. “Forget it. I just see it too often to actually have any like for you people.”

“You say that as if we are scum,” Mitchell spat, clearly put off with the woman he thought was beautiful.

He watched as she hurriedly gathered her things while she waited for her waitress to bring the check. He shook his head and moved to stand.

“Listen, I should not have said that. Someone I cared about was hurt and shamed by a reporter. A reporter who cared nothing about telling the story yet enjoyed making them look like heroes and making her look like she was nothing but a troublemaker.”

Mitchell knew reporters like that. In fact, he started out the same way. Sensationalizing news to get the front page headlines and garner attention in order to get to where he was today was a necessary evil.

“I understand and I apologize,” he said genuinely.

“Why are you apologizing?” she frowned, genuinely interested. “Have you ever done that to someone before?”

“Done what?” he asked, a tad distracted.

“Manipulate a person or the truth for the sake of a story?”

Mitchell shrugged. “Yes.”

She raised her brows. “Do you regret it?”

“Honestly?” he sighed. “I should. Looking back at where I am today, I don’t regret it one bit.”

He watched as the woman’s eyes narrowed in anger and disgust.

“Happy Fourth.”

She said nothing as he left, just continued staring at him in distaste.”

He moved to leave, it seemed whoever the source was, wasn’t going to show up. He walked along the cobbled path and towards his car. He opened the driver’s side door, and had one leg in the car when the fireworks began.

He stood to watch the red, blue and white colors light up the sky marking America’s independence. He felt a gaze on him and looked down to see the woman with the dress watching him. He smiled almost sadly.

If only she hadn’t spoken about reporters that way, he would have probably taken her back to his hotel and fucked her.

He closed the car door, gave the woman one last smile and turned on his ignition.

Darkness took over… for good.

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copyright@2015yajnaramnath

 

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