March 31st, 2010
|09:03 pm - Love Never Dies|
So I actually won a contest. First Place in the Mentalward contest. I have removed this from my FFn account, because I received some pretty nasty personal attacks via PM and reviews. But if you like the horror genre, this might be for you.
That being said, here it is. Heed the warnings below.
“Mentalward” Contest Winner
Pen Name: jjuliebee
Title: Love Never Dies
Summary: Edward and Bella Cullen have the perfect marriage, and nothing will ever tear them apart. Edward has made sure of it. E/B, AH, OOC. Rated M for lemons and extremely graphic and disturbing subject matter. No rape or abuse, but very twisted nonetheless. A “Mentalward” contest entry.
Word Count: 5,250
WARNING WARNING WARNING DANGER DANGER DANGER
THIS IS A CONTEST ENTRY FOR THE MENTALWARD CONTEST. It is gross, horrifying, and graphic. If you are someone who reads Meant to Be, please note that this is NOT my usual fluffy genre.
PLEASE, DO NOT READ THIS if you’re offended, upset, or triggered by anything graphic, gory, or by reading or thinking about nightmarish subject matter.
In my opinion, it’s quite sick and twisted, but there is no rape, murder, or abuse in it. Believe it or not, some things can be almost as bad. You’ve been warned.
S Meyer owns all. No copyright infringement is intended; I'm just borrowing her characters and twisting them horribly.
I removed this from FFn after some really nasty flames. Be warned, this is awful stuff.
I love my life.
I have a beautiful wife, a wonderful home, a fantastic job. My existence would be meaningless without my Bella; my love, my life, my soul mate. We met in our sophomore year of high school. It was love at first sight and we’ve been together ever since. I was her first lover; she mine. She was the first woman who touched me below the waist; her sweet lips the first and only to kiss and caress every part of my body. I love knowing that my hands, my tongue, my cock are the only that have ever touched her beautiful pussy. Her innocence captured my heart, and we have spent the past twenty-nine years loving each other unconditionally.
She has stood by me and supported me, both financially and emotionally, as I worked my way through undergraduate school. She took care of everything when I delved head first into medical school. While I spent countless hours in labs and libraries, as the lowest level grunt resident working 35 hour shifts, she was the glue that held us together. Because she was selfless and driven enough to work full time through college, our student loans have been minimal, and we’ve been able to enjoy a relatively prosperous life.
She was patient as I worked my way through the hospital hierarchy, enabling me to be the youngest person ever to be named Chief of Staff at the hospital where I have spent my entire career. She put my professional needs first, being the perfect hostess to staff parties, being a charming and delightful companion to me through countless banquets, dinners, and professional conferences. Without her, I would never have reached such levels.
No marriages are perfect, but ours has been pretty close to it. We have really only had one rough patch; some time ago, Bella gave birth to our only child, a stillborn daughter we named Anna. We were both devastated – as only parents that have lost a child can know, our grief was palpable and all-consuming. Through our mutual sorrow we became closer than ever, concluding together that our lives were meant to be shared with only each other. We’ll see our beautiful Anna again in heaven; of this we’re both sure. But for now, it’s just the two of us, together, ready to take on the world and doing anything our minds set out to do.
We’ve been married for many years and often tease each other about middle age sneaking up on us. But I find that my libido is just as strong, if not stronger, as it was the day that I first laid eyes on Bella. Our lovemaking is more intense now than it ever was. My wife is a wonderful, patient lover – she adores the fact that I’m insatiable, and she goes out of her way to please me in all of the ways that I love. But my pleasure is not one-sided; sex with Bella is not complete for me unless I have brought her to orgasm multiple times. Her pleasure is my pleasure, and feeling her come around me is a drug that I crave; a high that I chase.
And I want to chase it with her, right here, right now. Just the thought of her naked and moaning beneath me has made my cock as hard as a rock. We’re in bed now, and I reach over tentatively, gently caressing her naked back, trailing my hands down her sides and ghosting over her breasts in a way that I know that she loves. I move my fingers over her nipples, squeezing them gently and increasing the pressure as she writhes against me.
I know that I’ve got her right where I want her when she sighs quietly, telling me not to stop. My wife always responds to my needs and desires; I sometimes think that she loves to fuck more when I wake her up in the middle of the night than when we’re both wide awake. There is something about taking her when she is just swimming back to consciousness that I find wildly erotic. We’ve discussed this in quite a lot of detail as of late, and it turns her on as much as it does me.
Right now I’m behind her in the spoon position, the way we both often love to join together. I hitch her leg up and reach around her, lightly flicking her pussy and softly fingering her clit. She moans and tells me not to ever stop because my hand feels so good. Her sweet voice is like an aphrodisiac to me and I can no longer contain myself. Gently, I guide myself inside. I can’t hold back a moan as I slide myself in and out of her. Our hands clasp as we marvel at the way our bodies join together like two missing puzzle pieces.
Deeper and deeper, harder and harder I take my wife, as my breathing speeds up and she cries out in the darkness of our bedroom. I can’t hold back as I hear her tell me that she loves my cock, that she loves me, that only I have ever made her feel this good.
Her dirty talking brings me closer and closer to the edge, and as she begs me to fuck her harder I come hard inside of her, feeling her pussy contract as she milks my cock with her orgasm. My Bella screams out her pleasure as I let go, sucking and licking her neck and moaning into her long, silky hair.
And this is just round one.
I drift off to sleep until I see the slight glow of dawn peeking in through the window. Although my wife is lying silently next to me, my urge to love her, to please her, is as intense now as is was seven hours ago when we last made love.
Bella has become more adventurous over the past few months. I’m not quite sure what’s gotten into her, but she has been much more open to trying things that had, up until recently, been off limits.
Throughout our marriage, we’ve been able to talk openly about our needs and wants and fantasies, and for the most part, we’ve fulfilled them all. For over twenty years, we have toyed around with the idea of exploring anal sex, but for reasons that I’ve never really been able to ascertain, my wife has been frightened to try it. Since I have nothing but the utmost love and respect for Bella, I put the thought of it out of my head, because our sex life really is quite fulfilling. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t fantasize about having her that way from time to time, but it’s never really been a huge issue.
Until recently, when she suddenly decided that she wanted me to take her from behind. Suddenly, she is a demanding vixen, begging me to take her ass almost daily. God, I love this woman. As I think of the last time I had her this way, my dick becomes rock hard once again. After generously applying lube to myself, I push my arousal into her and she arches back into me, moaning as she wakes up just as I slide into her tight behind. We rock back and forth, and as I reach around and stroke her clit I hear her moan out the words that get me every time. Oh Edward, you feel so good. Fuck me, Edward. I love you , Edward.
Somehow, this time when she declares her love and lust I feel inexplicably sad, and as my orgasm rips through me I feel an unwelcome pain in my chest that I can’t explain. I shake off this sense of foreboding and I turn my wife around to face me, kissing her deeply and exploring her sweet mouth with my tongue.
I can never get enough of Bella - my sweet, insatiable lover. My life. The woman of my dreams and the best wife in the world. There is no doubt in my mind that I wouldn’t – couldn’t - live in a world where this beautiful creature didn’t exist.
I think back to a time, many many years ago, the first time that we made love in our meadow. We used to return to that same meadow every year, but it’s long since been covered over by urban sprawl. I still mourn the loss of that special place; that innocent time in our lives when love was new and the thought of us being apart had never crossed either of our minds.
Why was I suddenly thinking of us being apart? My lover was right here beside me, sleeping peacefully once again, completely sated from our lovemaking. Perhaps it was the loss of our daughter that was putting me in such an increasingly pained frame of mind. My breath begins to hitch as I feel the beginnings of an anxiety swelling within my chest.
I jump as incessant banging on my front door startles me. Thank goodness Bella is such a sound sleeper, as I won’t tolerate anyone disturbing my love.
“Edward! Edward, come to the door!” I hear the sound of my brother Jasper’s voice. He sounds worried. Is something wrong with Alice? Has something happened to one of their children? Why does he sound so upset?
“Listen bro, we’re worried about you. Edward, come on, man! Are you alive in there?” Emmett this time. My bear of a brother never sounds like this – tentative, frightened.
Rustling. Panicked voices. Locks and door knobs clicking back and forth as they try to make their way into my house.
“I don’t like this, Jazz. It smells like something’s dead in there.”
“Oh, God. Emmett, I think he’s committed suicide.”
BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG.
“Don’t even think it, Jasper. It’s a sewer blockage or something. He’s fine. He’s fine.”
“We never should have left him alone.”
“It’s what he wanted, Jasper. He insisted on it.”
Pounding. Banging. What the fuck? What the hell are these two clowns rambling about? They need to get the hell out of here before Bella gets upset.
I feel dread settling into my bones. Bella does not wish to be disturbed. She’s been through a terrible trauma. Why won’t they leave us alone? We’re enjoying some much-needed time alone together. For nearly three decades, we’ve been there for everybody in the family; through weddings, new babies, birthdays. We are the godparents to one of Emmett’s children and two of Jasper’s. Bella was the rock of the family when my parents died. She was there for everyone: for me, my brothers, my sisters-in-law. How dare they invade our home?
I bolt from the bed before Bella wakes up. I will not have her disturbed after all she’s been through, after all she’s done for our family. This is our home, our private sanctuary. I won’t have it desecrated by my brothers, well meaning or not.
As I look around the room to find some clothes to wear, I’m realizing something peculiar. Our bedroom is normally immaculate. Bella insists that we not have a housekeeper, instead doing most of the chores herself, while assigning me the few tasks that she doesn’t enjoy. But why, then, is the bedroom in such disarray?
There are dirty garments strewn everywhere. Mountainous piles of unwashed clothing are scattered all over the floor. There are dirty dishes piled up on the nightstand and papers strewn about. I’m becoming more and more confused. I trip over my shoes, falling to the floor. The knocking and pounding on the door continues. I need them to be quiet. My Bella needs her rest. Before I shout at them, my wife wakes up, finally at the end of her rope.
She screams at the top of her lungs for them to get the hell out of here. My Bella rarely gets angry, but clearly, she is upset with the offending noise coming from the front of our home. I go to her, stroking her hair, and soothe her gently.
“Don’t worry, love, I’ll make them go away,” I croon softly. “I’ll send them back where they came from.” She thanks me as I give her a light kiss on the lips and pull on an old pair of scrubs as I move swiftly out of the bedroom and towards the front door.
The banging gets louder as I move toward the front of the house. As I look around, I’m again struck by the fact that the rooms that I walk through are in complete disarray. Bella prides herself on our immaculate home, and I’m suddenly confused. I can hear the pounding on the door, and my head is beginning to pound as well – sharp pains are emanating from my temples, shooting across my skull, and I suddenly feel like screaming.
I don’t want to answer the door. I’m suddenly shaking uncontrollably. My brothers are here to take my wife away from me; without a doubt, I know it. They’re jealous; they don’t want us to be happy. They want what we have. I won’t let it happen. They can’t have my Bella. The clanging in my head is now deafening, only this time, it doesn’t sound like knocking. It sounds like a jackhammer pounding into my skull and I can’t stop it. I clap my hands over my ears and shut my eyes tightly, but the sound just keeps growing louder and louder.
“Go away!” I yell through the door.
“Edward!” It’s Jasper, my little brother. “Edward, are you okay, buddy? Can you let us in? We miss you, man!”
I want to tell him that we’re fine, that Bella and I were just taking a nap, but suddenly I’m bewildered. The house, the sounds, the smells. What is going on around me? I’m dizzy. I don’t know where the door is. I can’t find my way out of this room.
“Edward, please,” Emmett pleads. “Can you just come to the door for a minute?”
My brothers won’t hurt me. I mean, I don’t think they’ll hurt me. Will they hurt Bella? I’m not sure anymore. I’ll kill them if they try to touch her.
Reluctantly, I go to the door. If I tell them what they want to hear, they’ll go away.
“What is it, Emmett,” I attempt to croak. My throat is dry, sore. Why am I having trouble speaking? Bella and I talk for hours, yet somehow it feels right now as though I haven’t uttered a sound in months. My throat constricts as I try again. This time, I swallow first, the corners of my dry lips cracking as I open my mouth to speak. “What do you want, Emmett?”
“We just want to check on you to make sure that you’re okay. We miss you, man.”
Again, I’m confused. Why wouldn’t I be okay? He’s making no sense. He’s obviously looking to cause trouble, otherwise, he wouldn’t be here first thing in the morning, disturbing my Bella and making me angrier by the minute. I take in a deep breath.
We’re fine, I begin to say, but I stop myself quickly. For some reason, I’m hesitant to use that word. We.
“Everything’s fine,” I amend, relieved that I’ve stopped myself from saying something incriminating. Yet again, my mind is clouded with confusion. What is so incriminating about assuring them that my wife and I are fine?
I shake my head, trying to clear it, as I listen for Emmett’s response. It’s hard to hear it through the noise in my head, which has now reached an unbearably painful crescendo.
“Just open the door,” Jasper pleads. I’m having a hard time with their whining and screeching; their voices sound like fingernails furiously scratching down a chalk board. I just want them to go away. Bella won’t be happy if we’re disturbed.
I try to speak, but it’s of no use. Words are forming behind my lips, but nothing comes out but a harsh outtake of breath. I try again.
“If I open the door quickly, will you leave?”
“We just want to check on you, bro. Will that be alright?”
Against my better judgment, I move my hand to the door. Before I can unclasp the dead bolt, Bella voices her displeasure. She tells me not to let them in, that they’re only here to cause trouble. My wife would never lie, and of course I always defer to her wishes.
“I’m not letting you in.” Once again, I refrain from mentioning Bella, from telling them that she doesn’t want them here. I don’t want to mention my wife’s name at all, actually. Her thoughts and wishes are none of their concern and of no consequence to either of them. It’s up to me, as her husband, to ensure that all of her wishes are met.
Suddenly, the door rattles on its frame and I hear Emmett yelling at Jasper that they’re coming in.
A million thoughts flash across my mind as I frantically decide what I should do. Should I stay? Should I go? Should I run away? I need to get Bella; we need to get out of here. Before I can come to any reasonable conclusion, the door crashes in, and my brothers stare at me, both with looks of utter shock and confusion on their faces.
Jasper sobs. Covers his mouth. Suddenly, he turns his head and vomits. He’s doubled over, clenching onto his stomach and moaning.
Emmett ‘s face is ashen, his eyes like saucers.
“Edward?” He reaches out to touch me, as if he doesn’t believe that it’s me standing here. I’m not sure if it’s me either.
All of the sudden, everything hits me like a freight train. They’re coming for me. It’s true. I turn and run, run as fast as I can, back to our bedroom, to the safety of my bed and into the arms of Bella. I know that she’ll protect me.
As I race through the house, Emmett cries after me, begging me to stop. I yell and cry for him to leave me alone. I’m terrified and I just need to sink into the bed with Bella. I need to feel the warmth of her skin, the heat of her embrace.
“Go away!” I scream, scream louder than I thought was possible, as my head pounds and the screaming pain rips through my brain yet again.
Bella is crying, screaming for me to protect her, and I jump back into bed, covering up and cuddling up beside her, closing my eyes tightly and willing for everyone to just go away, just as I hear Emmett enter our room, uninvited and unwelcomed.
The smell. Oh dear God, the smell.
We never should have left Edward alone after the funeral.
I knew that he was devastated; for God’s sake, he and Bella had been inseparable since we were teenagers. But he had been so eerily calm … I figured that he was handling things as well as could be expected. He had dealt with the loss of both his wife and his stillborn daughter, he was stoic and strong. He was the brother that both Jasper and I had come to depend on over the years. A cream puff on the outside, but tough as nails on the inside.
He had the fortitude to help the family through tragedy after tragedy. The loss of our mother from breast cancer. My father’s suicide the year after. He had handled all of the affairs – the estate, the funeral arrangements, the harsh, cold bureaucracy of death. I had thought that it was the physician in him – he was able to compartmentalize his emotions from the harsh reality of death. He had done it before, and he seemed to be handling the death of his wife and infant daughter as best as anyone could.
Rosalie and I had begged him to come and stay with us. Rose was sure that with time, Edward would be able to get past his grief and loss and go on with his life. But I knew my brother. He lived and breathed for Bella, as she did for him, and when she died, I was terrified that he might take his own life. No one was more surprised than I when he gave a loving, touching eulogy that was thoughtful, articulate, and calm. So very calm.
“Although my Bella and Anna have left this world,” he began, his voice echoing strong and clear through the church, “I know that I will see them again in heaven. I know that my wife would never forgive me if I didn’t move on with my life. She was tough; a fighter, my strength and my hope. I will forever long for her, and my heart will forever be broken, but I know that she and my baby await me, and when God decides that it’s my time, I will join them in His everlasting arms.”
He was clearly devastated, but he was rational and cogent and I felt certain that his request for privacy was for the best.
But now, the smell. Dear sweet Jesus. I’ve been a police officer in Port Angeles for twenty two years. I’ve worked homicide cases more times than I cared to count, and although I am trying to reassure Jasper that there’s a sewer backup, my heart knows the truth. I smell death. The sickly sweet smell is one that cannot ever be forgotten. And it’s not the smell of a dead mouse, or a raccoon, or a cat. This is the permeating stench of a large animal, something that is at least a hundred pounds.
Or a human.
As I knock on the door over and over I become increasingly more panicked. How the fuck had we ever thought that it would be okay to leave Edward, on his own and out of touch, for two months? He made it clear that he wanted to spend the holidays in isolation. He said that he would feel “closer to Bella and Anna” during this first holiday season without them.
I look over at Jasper. The fear emanating off of him in waves is palpable, and I need to calm him down. It’s not just the stench that is terrifying; it’s the look of the house. It looks abandoned, as though not a living soul has lived here in months. If something has happened to Edward, I’ll never forgive myself. We should have known that he’d kill himself. What the fuck were we thinking?
Suddenly I hear the most horrendous, blood-curdling scream imaginable. I nearly jump out of my skin as I look over at Jasper, who looks as though he’s seen a ghost.
“What the fuck was that, Emmett?” He looks horrified. I don’t really know what to say. It sounded like a screeching, animalistic, keening wail, yet somehow oddly familiar.
I don’t want to go into that house. I’m terrified of what I’ll find.
The cop in me takes over, and I leave my emotions behind. I continue to knock, frantically and with increasing strength, as the deafening silence behind that door screams out at me to do something, to make a move, to see what’s wrong.
I hear a sound from the other side of that door; a quiet, pathetic sound that vaguely resembles that of my brother. I still can not identify the horrific screech that emanated from the area which I think was the master bedroom when we first arrived. It sounded vaguely human, but I’m not sure if it was a man, woman, or animal. I try to put it out of my mind as I try to coax Edward to open up.
We go back and forth, Jasper and I, trying to convince him to let us in, and I attempt to ascertain from his voice what condition he’s in. He sounds weak, barely alive, and terribly, terribly frightened.
What the hell has happened to him in this house? And again, why the fuck did I allow myself to abandon my brother when he needed me most?
We’ve almost got him convinced to open the door when he suddenly does a one eighty and demands that we leave. I look at Jasper. He nods slightly and hands me the device that I’ve given him to hold, the battering ram that we use during drug raids. I hoist it to my shoulder and begin to pound into the door, bracing myself from the pain in my upper body.
As soon as the door crashes open, I realize that I had no idea just what kind of hell is waiting for us within these walls. The stench pours out as if we’re standing at the gates of hell, the filth of the air thick and cloying. I reflexively hold my breath, realizing that if I take any sort of deep breath I’m going to faint. Even breathing through my mouth won’t help to alleviate the foul odor that is assaulting us. I know that I have to breathe, and I don’t want that rotten stench polluting my lungs.
The stench is overpowering, but the sight of my brother is what completely floors me and nearly brings me to my knees in a weeping, shivering puddle. I know that I need to man up; I hear Jasper behind me, whimpering and crying, and I have to pretend like I’m in control of the situation.
But there is absolutely nothing remotely under control about this nightmare.
Edward looks at me, his eyes wide, huge, puffy, purple bags beneath his eyes. His face is gray, nearly white, his sunken cheeks accentuating his gaunt face. At six feet two, Edward usually goes around one eighty. Right now I’d be surprised if he weighs in at a buck twenty five soaking wet. He’s wearing a pair of torn, filthy surgical scrubs and nothing else. His chest is sunken, his greasy hair is stuck to his head.
And the stink coming from him is unbearable. It’s a combination of body odor, filth, and death. It is the same smell that is swirling in the atmosphere around us, the same stench that was outside, but it’s much more concentrated, more vile, and I feel the bile rising in my throat. I swallow it down, close my eyes, and try to collect my thoughts.
I hear Jasper moan behind me as he projectile vomits.
I’m afraid now; I feel like I’m looking at a dead man, a ghost. I reach out to him, to see if he’s really real.
“Edward?” I say it gently, tentatively. I need to feel him, to make sure that he’s not a figment of my imagination, that this isn’t all some horrible nightmare from which I’ll wake up. He turns, slowly, feebly, and lurches back through the living room. I’m too startled to move; too frightened to follow as I fear the source of the foulness in the air, but as Jasper cries again behind me, I start after him.
“Go away!” He cries. It’s a thin, keening wail, and I realize it’s what we heard earlier. Edward had been warning us to stay away. God help me, I wish that I had listened. I’ve never been so afraid in my entire life. Dealing with rapists, murderers, the lowest of society has hardened me, yet I’m not prepared for what awaits me as I move farther and farther into this abyss, this pit of misery that I used to know as my brother’s house.
As I reach the bedroom door, I stop cold as I see Edward leap into the bed. This time, I have to put my head between my legs as spots form before my eyes. I’m fainting and I need to stop myself as I look in revulsion at the unspeakable sight before me.
My brother is lying in the bed. But it’s not my brother that I can’t take my eyes from. Oh dear God, I need to look away from this horror, but I can’t. I’ll never be able to see anything else ever again. It will be etched into my psyche and my soul forever, and I don’t believe that I can live with this memory burned into my brain.
Edward is curled up like a shrimp, clutching onto the dead, rotting remains of what once was my beautiful sister-in-law. What is left of her face is partially skeletal, some flaps of flesh clinging to the bones and what appears to be a wax-like mask covering up the rest. The body is without clothing, and I can see large, mottled brown patches of doughy flesh. The skin is glistening with unspeakable fluids and I turn my eyes away before my mind snaps and I become as insane as my brother.
I hear Jasper crying and Edward screaming, and the last thing I remember as I mercifully sink like a stone to the ground is the sound of an ambulance, as the backup that I called for an hour ago finally arrives.
From The Seattle Times; January 10, 2008
Prominent Surgeon Held in Psychiatric Ward
FORKS – Dr. Edward A. Cullen, 45, former Chief of Staff at Seattle Children’s Hospital, is being held at the Washington State Psychiatric Hospital pending a competency hearing scheduled for February 15. The Forks Police Department has declined to comment on the case, but anonymous sources report that a sealed indictment has charged Cullen with grave robbing and desecration of a corpse.
Cullen, recently widowed, was discovered at his Forks estate by his two brothers with the body of his dead wife, Bella Swan-Cullen, in his bed. Swan-Cullen died in childbirth in early November. The child was stillborn.
“It was the most horrific thing I have ever seen,” said one anonymous source close to the investigation. “The body was basically decomposed, and he was lying in bed next to it, curled up into a fetal position, clinging to it for dear life. I’ll have nightmares about it for as long as I live.”
According to sources, Cullen had preserved the body with a combination of paraffin wax, embalming fluid, and formaldehyde. A recent investigation by The Times uncovered details that indicated he had been seen at a local sex shop purchasing lubrication lotion and a prosthetic vagina and rectum, which he inserted into the body in order to have intercourse with the corpse. “It was weird,” said an employee of the local shop on condition of anonymity, “he was a classy looking dude with a wedding ring and a suit on. He came in on a mission, knew exactly what he wanted, with this strange, glazed look in his eyes. It scared me.”
All evidence points to Cullen exhuming the body of his wife, who was his high school sweetheart, from the family plot within hours of the November funeral. Sources close to the family state that he was grief stricken and insisted on being left alone until further notice. In addition to keeping his wife’s body, it is reported that Cullen had become delusional, hearing voices and suffering hallucinations that his wife was still living.
Dr. Cullen requested an indefinite leave of absence immediately after the death of his wife. The request was granted.
Both the Cullen family and the Seattle Children’s Hospital have declined comment in the matter.
Current Mood: anxious
This fic was so sad... i felt so bad for Edward :( the poor guy. I will admit.. kinda gross but tbh the sadness was the more powerful thing here :( My friend recc'd this to me and I'm glad she did because it's well written and powerful. It came up in convo because im contemplating writing a one shot where Jasper is a bit of a Dennis Nilsen/ Jeffery Dahmer type character... except i don't have the guts to include any post death sex or canibalism (I don't know if you've heard of those serial killers though so if not ignore most of this lmao) but yeah this fic came up in the convo and i couldn't help but feel i had to read it and i'm glad i did :)
|Date:||September 21st, 2010 03:56 pm (UTC)|| |
Screw those who couldn't take it!
Hey, I read this during the Mentalward contest and when I saw that it won I thought, "Fuck Yea! well deserved.." This story fitted the bill of Mentalward to the 't' Nothing else came close to me.
While reading I sympathized and cringed like Emmett when they found him.
It left me speechless and still I re-read it.
Because I couldn't get over how good it was and still is..