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Disclaimer: I don't own the excerpts from "The Trial" or "The Thin Ice" by Pink Floyd.
Note: Finally I'm finished with the next part! I thought it was going to be the last but it didn't end up that way. I really want to thank everyone again for all the support I've been getting on this story! Sorry it took me so long to write. Let's guess what I gave up for Lent? (Although I did forget a couple times) Thanks again!
Distribution: Put it wherever you want. Just e-mail me.
The Thin Ice
Good morning worm your honour
The crown will plainly show
The prisoner who now stands before you
Was caught red handed showing feelings
Showing feelings of an almost human nature
This will not do
~ Pink Floyd
"Who the hell are you?" shouted Mr. Witter at Andie as Pacey slumped to the ground behind him. She just glared at him, the courage that had compelled her to act disappearing under Mr. Witter's angry gaze. "I should have known my son was running a regular whorehouse behind my back," he said, his voice dripping with disgust and contempt. He turned towards Pacey and kicked him, Pacey just gave out a loud moan and his eyes rolled up into the back of his head.
"What a wimp," Mr. Witter muttered darkly, "If there ever was a time I was proud of calling that sissy my son..." Andie just stood behind him, her arms slack at her side, and stared at Pacey with eyes full of uncomprehending horror. She gave out a painful gasp when Mr. Witter nails cruelly bit into the flesh of her forearm when he grabbed her. He pulled her face right in front of his, so close that she could smell his sour breath. Her noise wrinkled instinctively even as she began to shake with horrible terror. A small whimper escaped her throat as she looked in Mr. Witter's eyes. Those eyes were an impermeable black, the pupils dilated so that all that was left of the irises were thin rings of washed out blue. Then Andie's eyes flicked back to Pacey; back to his crumpled, vulnerable figure lying against the wall, a stream of blood slowly oozing out of his open mouth. She had to save him from his father otherwise who else would do it?
She spoke, her words held an underlying tremor despite the hate and contempt in them, "Get your filthy hands off me! You know you can't do anything so don't even try. The second I get out of here I'm going to call the police! It'll be worse for you if I have bruises all over me." Andie couldn't believe she was saying this to him, a man who could and possibly would tear her apart with his bare hands. She was supposed to be cowering and begging, not threatening this cruel man. Yet, even as she thought these things, the tone of her voice did not change and her eyes didn't again fill with that helpless light. If that had happened Sheriff Witter would have been on her like a wolf after a sheep. No, with this absurdly brave girl threatening him he regained a semblance of sanity. His eyes cleared of that mad light and became shifty as he seemed to search for some way to get out of this bind. For the first time someone had him pinned and he couldn't beat them into submission as he had done with Pacey or break their spirit as he had done with his wife. It was the literal end of the life he had made for himself and not with death but at the hands of a small, pathetic fifteen-year-old girl.
"I'll pay you," Mr. Witter spoke in a gruff voice, trying to hide his very real fear of losing everything. "Two hundred." He remembered that he was still holding her and quickly released her from his big arms, as if frantically trying to get rid of his undoing. She absently rubbed the indentations from his nails that were carved into her arms and seemed to be getting ready to speak. She stepped away from Mr. Witter and steadily looked into his eyes.
"No," the word was said shortly and finally, there was to be no changing of mind. Andie returned his gaze unflinchingly even as he began to impotently glare at her with frosty blue eyes.
"You stupid little bitch," he said in a soft, wondering voice.
Then he turned from her and left the room, slamming the door behind him as if trying to convey some final threat. Andie stared after him, and did not change her stance even as the sound of the front door slamming so hard that the windows rattled came to her ears. Several minutes later she shook herself, as if shaking off the final remnants of a bad dream, and came out her odd trance like a deep-ocean diver coming out the murky depths, but in her case depths of the mind. She let out a sigh of relief that was several minutes too late and slowly turned her head to look behind herself. Suddenly her eyes caught glimpse of Pacey's figure that still lay crumpled against the wall and she let out a soft sound. She had actually forgotten Pacey, the reason she had gotten into this mess. The fear and panic came rushing back into her so quickly that she seemed to stagger under their weight. Andie felt a need to hide herself in a dark corner and shake...and shake. The girl that had stood up to Pacey's father was gone and in her place was a small girl who wanted to hide from the world and all the dangers that lurked in it.
"Get a hold of yourself Andie," she murmured, "Pacey needs you and you're not going to be much help if you lose it." She let out a shrill laugh that was too harsh and brassy for her ears. She began to walk toward Pacey, steadying herself by putting a trembling hand on a chair as her knees threatened to give out. As she reached him she let herself fall to her knees next to him. Her eyes assessed the damage that had been done and briefly widened then became soft and distant. Pacey's face was covered with spilt blood from his broken nose, which looked broken and raw in the fading light of the afternoon. All she could see of his eyes were the whites, except for the half moons of blue that peeked from the top, because his eyelids had partly slipped over them, covering their vulnerability with black lashes. Her held breath let out with a hiss as she saw the knob of bone that stuck out unnaturally from his left arm. Blood had congealed under it in a sticky mess and the sight of it brought the acidic burn of bile into Andie's mouth. Gently she put his poor, bloody head into her lap and mumbled, "I'll protect you. Nobody's going to hurt you." And she began to slowly rock to calm her screaming nerves, the idea of calling for help never coming to mind. The whole ordeal had taken a toll on her vulnerable mind, she who took Prozac and various other drugs with long unpronounceable names had faced something so horrible for her that the scars, though none marked her body, would never fade. Her thoughts were incoherent and scattered as she continued rocking Pacey. Even as his pallor began to dim and his skin began to cool she did not make a move for the phone. His lips and nails began to take on a bluish hue yet she did not look up nor did she move...
If you should go skating
On the thin ice of modern life
Dragging behind you the silent reproach
Of a million tear stained eyes
Don't be surprised when a crack in the ice
Appears under your feet
You slip out of your depth and out of your mind
With your fear flowing out behind you
As you claw the ice.
"The Thin Ice"
~ Pink Floyd
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