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The art and writing of starchildemt
Mourning Innocence Part 1 - The Art and Writing of starchildemt
If I'm going Down then I'm Going Down Good

October 2007


Laura Virginia
Mourning Innocence Part 1

Okay, this one is set in the timeline before I-95 South. Deals with Hagan. There is violence and an attack. Let me know what you think.

Mourning Innocence

And she takes another step
Slowly she opens the door
Check that he is sleeping
Pick up all the broken glass and furniture on the floor
Been up half the night screaming now it's time to get away
Pack up the kids in the car

The thought that was first and foremost in her mind was how incredibly happy she was that her brothers were no longer affected by anything that happened. Her father was in Miami; she was the only one that could be hurt by his actions now. And if she was hurt, she rationalized, no one she loved would be.

Another bruise to try and hide
Another alibi to write
Another ditch in the road
You keep moving
Another stop sign
You keep moving on
And the years go by so fast
Wonder how I ever made it through

Since everyone had found out about her and Hagan despite her best efforts to the contrary, she hoped they would chalk the heavier-than-usual makeup up to an attempt to hide a night’s worth of tears. Maybe they’d even forget that not a soul ever saw Calleigh Duquesne cry. Tears invited harder beatings. It must have been the years of reprieve that had allowed the tears to take the throne in the center of the evening’s equation. Perhaps it was the stab of fear she felt when her father had ripped off the belt she was wearing, her favorite wide belt with the gorgeous rectangular tooled silver buckle and her badge clipped next to it. So many lovely sharp edges eager to take out their frustrations on Calleigh’s bare back. Some things didn’t ever change, like the strength of her father’s swing, or the fact that she completely deserved it. She had screwed up her father’s first case as a public defender. She had encouraged him when he had been fine without her two cents. And she had gone up against Hagan. Guilty on all counts, and the sentencing phase of a bench trial is swift. She should have checked to see if there was alcohol in his bedroom before she sent him to change while she made coffee. She should have recognized the look in his eyes immediately without trying to rationalize that it couldn’t happen again. She should never have interfered in the case in the first place. Guilty on all counts. Guilty. The word reverberated through her tortured soul like the bang of a gavel in a courtroom. Like the sound of leather and metal on bare skin.

And there are children to think of
Babies asleep in the backseat
Wonder how they'll ever make it through this living nightmare
But the mind is an amazing thing
Full of candy dreams and new toys and another cheap hotel
Two beds and a coffee machine
But there are groceries to buy
And she knows she'll have to go home

Old patterns were a cruel joke, really. Here she was on her hands and knees cleaning up everything that had been thrown or knocked during the struggle even while trails of blood oozed from more places than she could think to count. Just like she had done for so many years after stealing her brothers away for a car ride, wincing as the bumps in the dirt road mauled her already battered body. All that had mattered then was that she get the little ones as far as possible from the madness in the tiny house by the lake. Drawing fire from their parents, stealing them away, all of it came down to the simple fact that if she was the one hurt, then no one she loved would be. If just once she hadn’t had to bring them back, she often wondered, where would she be now? Where would any of them be?

Another ditch in the road
You keep moving
Another stop sign
You keep moving on
And the years go by so fast
Wonder how I ever made it through

*”You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes I did.”*

*”You did this, Calleigh! It’s all” *SMACK* “Your” *SMACK* “FAULT!” *THWACK*

“Noo Daddy please, no please I’m sorry I didn’t mean to ruin your case please no please stop Daddy I’ll be good I promise no Daddy please!”

There were times that being small was a curse, and facing a drunken Kenwall Duquesne was most definitely one of them. Duquesne. The name that had meant a fresh start for Calleigh so many years ago, one that now carried the weight of her professionalism and expertise, now taken by a man who wanted a reputation he hadn’t earned to prop up the new leaf that he could never get turned quite far enough over. He got chance after chance in Miami, without fully earning any of them, out of respect for her. And there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.*

She finally finished her cleanup and got ready to leave, hoping the man passed out on the couch in a drunken stupor was really out this time. Carrying her boots in one hand and her bloody belt in the other, she headed for her Jeep. There was a fuzzy blanket in the back that she could use to cover her tattered clothes, and if she left her belt back there she wouldn’t have to deal with it yet. Some level of her mind was screaming that at her age she shouldn’t still be getting punished by Daddy, but she knew she deserved it with every repentant fiber of her being. Her shield gave her the power to protect others, but she didn’t deserve its protection for herself. She avoided her reflection; it was obvious without looking how swollen the left side of her face was. Long sleeves, loose pants, and heavy foundation would be the next day’s armor, if only she could get home. Somehow getting home would make everything okay.

Another bruise to try and hide
Another alibi to write
Another lonely highway in the black of night

She made it to her street without issue, breathing a sigh of relief that froze in its tracks when she spotted Hagan’s car in her driveway and the man himself leaning against the garage door. Trapped twice in one day was far too much to handle, but Mother Earth doesn’t swallow Jeeps and their occupants on command, so she hit the button on the garage door opener and prayed for an easy way out, though she knew full well that Hagan had never given her one before.

Hagan came to stand by her door when the car was turned off. “Calleigh, I wanted to ap…” He was unable to hide his shock as he took in her appearance, but when he sniffed the air, Calleigh realized that she was in for it again, and resigned herself to round two. One of the things her father had thrown at her was a bottle of cologne.

“John, please, I-“

“Where the FUCK have you been, Calleigh?” His smoldering fury cut her off as it always did. “Out with someone else?” A glint of silver caught his eye, and he picked up her belt as she shrank back against the seat. “I guess you like it even rougher than I thought. Didn’t think I could give it to you like you want? You had to go and cheat on me? Baby, all you had to do was ask.” With a casual flick of his wrist, the belt leapt forward as if eager to continue the job and let the edge of her badge open a gash over her eye. The blood flowed freely, obscuring her vision. There were no mistakes this time; she recognized the look in Hagan’s eyes to be the one that heralded his worst for her, and before she could be dragged out of the car, she dropped her hand to the cupholder, triple tapping the alert button on her phone in the mayday sequence a firefighter friend had taught her, and then quickly turning it off before anyone had time to respond, not even realizing that she had no idea who she had alerted. When Hagan opened the door she went limp, years of practice in the fine art of trying to avoid serious injury kicking in, though not in time to prevent the sickening crunch of the bones in her wrist. Her tiny frame was no match for him, and she idly wondered how she had ever thought she could cut it. *Not only did I graduate from the same academy as you, but I am a Southern woman and all that implies and I don’t know why you have so little confidence in my ability to protect myself.* At the time she had been flattered by his attention, emotionally spent and wanting to be protected at the same time she proved that she didn’t need it. He protected her, all right. Protected her from thinking too highly of herself, from getting too confident or thinking that she didn’t deserve what he had for her on an almost daily basis. Bad girls never stop being bad; she had been taught this for as long as she could remember. Hagan gave her the punishment she deserved for ever entertaining the thought that she could truly leave her past behind and make a difference. The thought made her giggle for some reason, and she was rewarded with a backhand across the mouth and a fist slamming into her stomach for the third time. She curled into a ball, losing her battle with dinner as he picked her up, dropping her across the coffee table on her stomach and ripping off what little remained of her clothes, then trapping her hands behind her back with her own cuffs. “Frigid bitch like you needs to be owned. I apologize; I should have realized that you needed a firmer hand than you’ve been getting from me. If I had, you wouldn’t have had to cheat to get what you want. I’ll prove I can do it like you want, you little whore.” Calleigh knew she should be grateful to be disciplined by two people in one day, happy that two people could love someone as horrible as her so much, but as he unbuckled his belt, Calleigh couldn’t help the tears that came to her eyes again.

But there's hope in the darkness
You know you're going to make it

Horatio was in his office with the omnipresent paperwork when his cell surprised him with the sequence he recognized as the fire department’s mayday call. He was even more surprised to see Calleigh’s name attached to that particular signal, and briefly wondered if he was possibly not the intended recipient. He hit the button to ask her, but was unable to. Calling, he found that her phone was off. When running through every number he had for her produced no response, he abandoned his work without a second thought and bolted for the Hummer.

location: bed
What's Up: apathetic apathetic
What's Playing: Apathy- Drive it Like I Stole It