(no subject)

Shelley is shivering in the cold air even as she runs into her room, bare feet feeling like ice on the cool stone floor. She pulls the door shut behind her, wishing irrationally it had a lock - though she knows if he wanted to get in nothing she could do would stop him.

In spite of the cold, she sits on the floor, back against the door, hugging her knees.

She can still feel him.

(Let me hold you)

She breathes raggedly, fighting down panic. He can't twist her mind to this. Not to take comfort with the man who is the reason she wants to cry and hide away from the world.

(Is this not wanted?)

No. Oh, no.

She has to get out.

The Eastern Cliffs

Silence, apart from the gentle rush of the tide in the early morning.

The beach is a pale empty stretch as far as the eye can see, smooth as the tide recedes. All that mars it are the few cliff parts that have crumbled from the cliffside over the months, in storms or other disturbances. A larger part has broken away, recently, it seems. Grass and earth still clings to the side of one oversized boulder resting half-buried in sand and the shallow lagoon.

On approaching, it obscures the small figure that lies half-submerged in the peaceful water. Soft red hair floats slowly around the pale, still face. On first glance the brighter tendrils of red spreading through the clear green-gold of the water from the side of the girl's head could be her hair.

Too-white arms rest against the sand under the undisturbed surface that shines brighter as the morning sun continues to rise.