The year is 1890. When a strange series of deaths leads Giselle and Alisa to the Way brothers, two businessmen living in a small New England township, they uncover a past of murder, mystery, and in...
New Orleans, Bourbon Street.
"How much do you charge, miss?"
Giselle gave the man her best seductive grin and moved closer to him.
"Oh, surely a man such as yourself can afford my services, monsieur," she made sure to lay her French accent on extra thick, knowing that it drew in customers.
He smirked. "I most certainly can. But do tell me anyway."
"Oh, for someone as 'andsome as you, seventy five." The price wasn't any lower than what she gave all the other men,but she always pretended to be giving them a better deal than what everyone else got. Most of her clients liked that, for whatever reason.
"I think I can agree to that," he said, offering his arm, which she took, smiling coyly. Lifting the hem of her revealing blue dress so that she could walk, she lead her newest customer into the dark alleyway.
The sound rung out through the house as Nikolai Korokova slapped his wife's face for a fourth time. He'd come home drunk again.
When doesn't he? Alisa, the wife in question thought bitterly.
"Are you even listening to a damn word I say? Are you?!"
She nodded. There was a time when she'd have mouthed off, given him some witty remark, but she knew better than that now.
"No, you aren't! You're worthless, you bitch!" He screamed, hitting her yet again.
Upon impact, Alisa slid down the wall, not stopping until her rear hit the floor of their small sitting room. He gave a sharp kick to her leg, and then, to her disgust,he spat on her.That was new.Satisified, Nikolai staggered off to their bedroom, where he would no doubt pass out.
After a few moments, Alisa got up, letting out a grunt of pain as she did. She was thankful, however. This beating wasn't nearly as bad as others she'd recieved. At least he hadn't hit her with a bottle this time.
The first thing she did was wipe his saliva off of her face with a rag, wanting nothing more than to get the substance off of her.
She hated it. In fact, it would be more than suffice to say that she hated it more than anything she's ever hated in the twenty three years she'd been alive. She hated the things he called her, hated being cornered like a frightened dog, all of it. But most of all, she hated him. Nikolai. Alisa wanted him to die, and painfully at that.
You could make that happen.
Could she? She didn't think so. While she may have hated her husband, she didn't think she was capable of taking a life. The very thought of the farmer next door slaughtering one of his cows almost made her want to cry.
But think of all the times he's hurt you.
The voice did have a point. The fact that she was agreeing with a voice in her head was somewhat concerning to Alisa, but that wasn't what she was worried about at that moment.
The bastard deserves to die!
No, he didn't. He may have been a bad man, but death? That was too harsh.
She couldn't. Despite how much she wanted the beatings to end, she just couldn't kill someone.
Yes you can, Alisa. You can end him. Don't you want that?
What had she done to have such dark thoughts?
You have done nothing, darling. You don't deserve to be treated the way he treats you.
No, she didn't deserve it. And everything the voice was telling her was starting to sound more and more tempting.
Do it! You know you want to!
Gingerly, she snuck into the kitchen. There was a knife, one that Nikolai had sharpened recently. It was one of the few kind things he had done for her. After a moment of searching, she found it. It was so... pretty. The was the metal glinted in the light, the sharpness of the blade. The knife was the most stunning thing she'd ever held.
Alisa gripped the handle tightly and crept to their bedroom. Sure enough, he was unconscious and sprawled out on their bed, lying on his back. She edged closer to him, her palms sweating and her heart beating at an erratic pace. If she did this, her life would never be the same. She'd have to flee the village for sure. Was she willing to deal with the reprocussions?
Yes! Now get it over with before he hears you and wakes up!
Taking a deep breath, she raised the knife up high.
And then, to her horror, Nikolai's eyes shot open.
Too scared to think, she lowered the blade in one swift motion, piercing his heart. Blood splattered everywhere, covering her face and her clothes. She raised the knife again and brought it down.
Up and down.
Up and down.
Up and down.
She wasn't sure how long she kept it up, though she continued to stab him even after he'd died. And the voice was there the whole time, encouraging her.
Yes, make him suffer!
He deserves every bit of this!
You should have done this a long time ago!
Eventually, her arms grew tired, and she made herself stop. It seemed as though the whole room had been painted red.
Alisa rather liked it.
So, is this worth continuing, or should I scrap it? Leave me a review with your opinion, and thanks for reading!