We have come to the end of our COMO Cocoa Island Honeymoon.
Arthur drops Bethany down gently on the bed, her back up but her butt down.“It may have seemed nothing like these few days but I have been waiting so damn long for this moment.” Arthur whispers as he playfully rubs his lips on her, just touching them to one another and moving from side to side with his eyes wide open and staring at Bethany. “You have no idea just how many times I regretted promising to be a gentleman at the start. You drive me so damn crazy.”“I wanted you to stop too, to stop being a gentleman, even felt a bit bad about it at some point.” She whsipers, her voice raspy against his body.He raises his head and smiles before leaning back to her slowly, his gaze never leaving hers. He reached out and gently pulls her to her feet, his hands resting on her hips. He leans in and kisses her deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth. Bethany melts into his embrace, her hands reaching up to tangle in his hair.Arthur's hands began to wander, exploring the curves of Bethany's bod
It is the day they retur back home, to the reality waiting that they had left behind the week before.Bethany pulls the sheer white curtain aside and stares out at the ocean one last time, the pretty blue will stay completely ingrained into her head for a million years to come… If she lives that long. The beautiful island sprawls before her like a promise of peace they’re about to break by leaving.She sighs, a soft sound swallowed by the sound of waves crashing gently on the shore, maybe not so much the contented sigh as before.Arthur appears behind her, towel slung over one shoulder, suitcase in hand. “You sure you don’t want to fake a tropical illness and stay here forever? We could say the doctors asked you stay and work from here as taking a flight might be fatal for your tropical illness?” He teases.“I already tried faking food poisoning this morning,” she murmurs. “You made me take a ginger shot and pack anyway.”Arthur laughs, stepping beside her. “I’m heartless like that bu
“Thank you Doctor, can you please give us some time with him? I am not sure you’ll be able to enter right now. We are all running on emotions right now.”“Sure sir. We’ll be back in an hour or so.”Arthur stands outside the hospital room just a little longer, with a weight in his chest that no amount of deep breathing can loosen.Two months.That’s all the time Mason has left, eight weeks, possibly even less. And not because of an accident or premediated illness.No… it’s glioblastoma. Silent, vicious, and final. No cures, only… this.Arthur’s jaw clenches and unclenches as he pushes the door open.The room is dim, humming with machines and smelling faintly of antiseptic. Bethany and Martha sit close together now, their silence sitting heavily in the room. Martha’s tears have slowed to soft sniffles, her body slumped like it had aged decades in the span of an hour.Bethany looks just as drained, her eyes red and heavy. Looks like Martha has told her what is going on with Mason, she lo
The day began with yells, cackles of laughter within a small family and small children, all laughing toothily around the large house. Scattered around were pink balloons and a particular glittery plastic tiara that didn’t quite fit on Bethany’s tiny head.She was three years old at the time, full of toothy grins and sticky fingers and loved pancakes with a lot of syrup, and today, today was her birthday.“Mommy,” she said, swinging her legs beneath the kitchen table that was considerably ten times her total weight, “I want McDonald’s burger for my birthday.”Martha, standing by the counter with a juice box in one hand and her purse in the other, gave her daughter a bemused look. “Are you sure? We can make you anything you want. Pancakes? Spaghetti? A cake shaped like a pony? Where did you even hear about that?”Bethany shook her small curls. “You got Mason one, I want my own too today. McDonald’s and the park. I wanna ride the horsies! They are cuteeee.”Beside her, Seven year old Mas
The holding cell stinks terribly of sweat and urnine and not so well taken care of body discharges.Smells disgusting in there.And it is not just the stink of sweat or urine, like the average downtown drunk tank, no. This one also reeks of guilty men dressed up in expensive cologne. Designer jeans and loafers scuffed on concrete, the exact dressings that they had all been arrested in though they do stink now from not having baths for days.Five men, once golden boys in nightclubs and boardrooms, now sit on cracked terrazzo floors under extremely dim bulb lights.Trevor sits with his legs crossed, perfectly calm for someone in such a situation.The others? Not so much, they are relying on him and for someone they are leaning on, he seems a little too calm for their liking.“Trevor, man,” hisses Logan, slick back that is not so slick now, pacing the cell like a caged animal. “You said your dad would never let this happen, you said you’ll never spill our names now look at all of us, sitt
The morning sun filters through the trees in the large, green park that overlooks the pretty lake ahead.It’s warm. Peaceful. A soft breeze rolls across the lake, lifting the petals from scattered white roses and tugging at the corner of the prettily covered altar. Everything looks like it was summoned out of thin air, a lakeside setup, simple chairs, a path of white laid across green grass, and yet it all feels perfectly right.They didn’t plan it. Not really. They did not have the time to do so anyway, because every minute now counts.Every. Single. Minute.But love doesn’t always need a plan. Sometimes, it just needs now and that’s how everything was planned overnight, some people who still haven’t slept yet are in the congregation.By the water’s edge, rows of white wooden chairs are arranged in quiet perfection. A floral arch leans over a makeshift altar, the blooms fresh, delicate, almost too pretty to touch. There are photographers present, it is a memorable one, everyone wants
Detective Reynolds has never hated walking down this damned hallway more than he actually does now, with what he knows his mission it, he does not look forward to the next few minutes since he’ll be walking down the same hall again.The keys jingle in his hand, cold metal biting into his palm as he squeezes it more than he should, causing himself pain. He passes the front desk, the vending machines, the bulletin board with the crooked missing persons flyer... all of it feeling a little more annoying than usual.For the first time in a very long time, he regrets his job and for once wishes that he was in a position of power to refute the corrupt order that he is about to go ahead and act out. He had spoken to Daisy Worth just some minutes ago before he decided to accept his fate and do as ordered unless he wanted to risk his job, and even if he does risk his job for the sake of his integrity, the five bastards will still get released anyway so there is basically no point dragging out t
The courtroom is brightly lit, smells like polished wood and paper and different, different smells of perfumes and cologne.It's still early in the morning, the sun barely slanting through the tall and somewhat dusty windows, but the room is already full, a lot of people seem to be quite interested in the case and other than that, there are also students who have come to just witness one and some other purposeful individuals, albeit, the courtroom is filled. The silence is thick, every cough or chair scrape feeling louder than it should because every sound that is not inevitable is not allowed in the court, it should always be bone silent and they all try to keep to the rule, although the silence can feel a bit suffocating but they can’t help it.At the defense table, John Worth stands stiffly, his head cast downwards staring at his feet or at the floor, either, wearing the same annoyingly orange jumper he has worn to every hearing in the past week.His hands rest by his sides, fisted
Time slows.Bethany’s fingers brush the handle of the driver’s side door just as the second beep-beep fades into the air. A bird chirps from the lamp post above the lot. The wheels of a nearby shopping cart squeal as someone exits the pharmacy across the road. Arthur opens his mouth to say something…And the world erupts.BOOM.It’s not just a noise., it’s a force. A living, monstrous thing that tears through air, glass, and metal like paper. The car explodes in a big explosion of fire and shrapnel, its roof splitting, hurling into the sky. The windshield vaporizes in a white hot flash and for the person standing right next to the explosion...Bethany is thrown violently backward. Not a stumble. Not a fall. She is launched into the air like a ragdoll and what goes up, always comes down.Her body hits the ground very hard. The sound is sickening, skin on pavement, ribs crunching, skull cracking and the audible sound of all of it.Then stillness.Alarms scream in every direction. The
The man walks in front of the station like he’s trying not to walk into a landmine, slow, tentative steps. He stops at the top of the stairs, takes one deep sigh, rubs his weak looking eyes and takes the few more steps into the building.He does not take big strides and no waving hands. Just quiet, precise steps through the front doors of the Precinct, wearing a weather beaten hoodie and jeans that have seen better years. His eyes are the kind that don’t blink enough, too haunted to remember how.Or at least that is what it looks like to whoever cares to give him a glance.At the front desk, Officer Laney gives him the once over. She’s halfway through sipping her third iced latte when she asks, “Can I help you sir?”The man doesn’t answer at first, first choosing to check if she is a police officer since she is in civilian clothes, then seeing her badge in her hands, he sighs audibly before responding, saying…“I need to talk to someone. Someone in charge of a particular case here.”L
Rumors begin less than three days later.Apparently, grabbing a cup of coffee with a beautiful female Major is grounds for rumors, and even people whom you don’t know who begin to study your every move. The rumors, with truths in them however, rage on the barracks.They spread like heat on dry bush. Fast, wild and pretty much unstoppable. A Major seen sneaking smiles at a Lieutenant during drills, the same Lieutenant caught slipping out of the officer's quarters too early in the morning.Chara doesn’t as much as flinch when she hears then, she’s pretty much used to the weight of judgment.Chara doesn’t pretend to care, not at all.She keeps her chin high, her stride sharp like the boss lady that she is, like no one dares say it to her face, because they really do not dare say it to her face.But Mason hears it.He hears them and unlike Chara with her own steely indifference, he is not indifferent to it.And it gets harder to ignore, mostly because it is not all about him but her.Mason
It is a new day on the barracks, the morning frills are done and so are evening ones, it’s just past the time for everyone to have dinner but someone is not headed to the cafeteria for food.The knock on the door announces his arrival to his caller.Major Chara’s office is dimly lit but bright enough fir the time of the day, considering she is in the male fields, she knows just how to be careful enough to not have too much light on, not too much to help the stalkers peek through the window at her perfectly figured body. She’s currently halfway through dressing, uniform pants already snug around her waist, boots laced to perfection, but her shirt still hanging on the back of a chair.“Come in,” Chara calls, her voice calm.She doesn’t bother rushing. She knows exactly who it is and why she has sent for him.The door opens, and then nothing.No footsteps. No greeting.Just silence from who it is that stands at the door.Private First Lieutenant Mason Campbell.She turns slightly, still
The courtroom is brightly lit, smells like polished wood and paper and different, different smells of perfumes and cologne.It's still early in the morning, the sun barely slanting through the tall and somewhat dusty windows, but the room is already full, a lot of people seem to be quite interested in the case and other than that, there are also students who have come to just witness one and some other purposeful individuals, albeit, the courtroom is filled. The silence is thick, every cough or chair scrape feeling louder than it should because every sound that is not inevitable is not allowed in the court, it should always be bone silent and they all try to keep to the rule, although the silence can feel a bit suffocating but they can’t help it.At the defense table, John Worth stands stiffly, his head cast downwards staring at his feet or at the floor, either, wearing the same annoyingly orange jumper he has worn to every hearing in the past week.His hands rest by his sides, fisted
Detective Reynolds has never hated walking down this damned hallway more than he actually does now, with what he knows his mission it, he does not look forward to the next few minutes since he’ll be walking down the same hall again.The keys jingle in his hand, cold metal biting into his palm as he squeezes it more than he should, causing himself pain. He passes the front desk, the vending machines, the bulletin board with the crooked missing persons flyer... all of it feeling a little more annoying than usual.For the first time in a very long time, he regrets his job and for once wishes that he was in a position of power to refute the corrupt order that he is about to go ahead and act out. He had spoken to Daisy Worth just some minutes ago before he decided to accept his fate and do as ordered unless he wanted to risk his job, and even if he does risk his job for the sake of his integrity, the five bastards will still get released anyway so there is basically no point dragging out t
The morning sun filters through the trees in the large, green park that overlooks the pretty lake ahead.It’s warm. Peaceful. A soft breeze rolls across the lake, lifting the petals from scattered white roses and tugging at the corner of the prettily covered altar. Everything looks like it was summoned out of thin air, a lakeside setup, simple chairs, a path of white laid across green grass, and yet it all feels perfectly right.They didn’t plan it. Not really. They did not have the time to do so anyway, because every minute now counts.Every. Single. Minute.But love doesn’t always need a plan. Sometimes, it just needs now and that’s how everything was planned overnight, some people who still haven’t slept yet are in the congregation.By the water’s edge, rows of white wooden chairs are arranged in quiet perfection. A floral arch leans over a makeshift altar, the blooms fresh, delicate, almost too pretty to touch. There are photographers present, it is a memorable one, everyone wants
The holding cell stinks terribly of sweat and urnine and not so well taken care of body discharges.Smells disgusting in there.And it is not just the stink of sweat or urine, like the average downtown drunk tank, no. This one also reeks of guilty men dressed up in expensive cologne. Designer jeans and loafers scuffed on concrete, the exact dressings that they had all been arrested in though they do stink now from not having baths for days.Five men, once golden boys in nightclubs and boardrooms, now sit on cracked terrazzo floors under extremely dim bulb lights.Trevor sits with his legs crossed, perfectly calm for someone in such a situation.The others? Not so much, they are relying on him and for someone they are leaning on, he seems a little too calm for their liking.“Trevor, man,” hisses Logan, slick back that is not so slick now, pacing the cell like a caged animal. “You said your dad would never let this happen, you said you’ll never spill our names now look at all of us, sitt
The day began with yells, cackles of laughter within a small family and small children, all laughing toothily around the large house. Scattered around were pink balloons and a particular glittery plastic tiara that didn’t quite fit on Bethany’s tiny head.She was three years old at the time, full of toothy grins and sticky fingers and loved pancakes with a lot of syrup, and today, today was her birthday.“Mommy,” she said, swinging her legs beneath the kitchen table that was considerably ten times her total weight, “I want McDonald’s burger for my birthday.”Martha, standing by the counter with a juice box in one hand and her purse in the other, gave her daughter a bemused look. “Are you sure? We can make you anything you want. Pancakes? Spaghetti? A cake shaped like a pony? Where did you even hear about that?”Bethany shook her small curls. “You got Mason one, I want my own too today. McDonald’s and the park. I wanna ride the horsies! They are cuteeee.”Beside her, Seven year old Mas