She was too stunned to move. After what seemed like minutes, she did, tripping over herself and her dress. She crawled, tumbling, scrambling, and staring at him, mouth agape, just trying to …go. Her brain couldn’t process the actions of fleeing and questioning him at the same time. It hadn’t had time to sink in. She had felt fear with him before, but fear was coming to the forefront as her main emotion.
She ran, tripping over that huge, beautiful dress, the bottom of which was being torn to rags and covered in filth, despite her gathering and grasping at it during the chase. Her hair had fallen from its long, perfect braid. Now coils of it stuck to her dewy neck, face, and breasts. She was unable to brush back her hair and hold the bondage which was her dress while she ran.
Stopping now, here, in the open like this, even just to catch her breath, and she’d be his. She had to keep going. She could feel him. Could she smell him, too? She didn’t even know why he’d let her go in the first place.
In the nose and out the mouth, right? Her hands tangled in and lifted up the expensive and damaged fabric. Her bare feet and legs were dirty and scratched. One last look around, revealing nothing but a calm, quiet forest made her only slightly less anxious. It was foggy and the farther she went inside, the darker it got. She also didn’t know exactly what she was running from.
Quickly and easily, he was up and over the wooden rails, and her cheek was on its way to the earth’s floor. He clawed down her back and the dress she’d worn shredded away, flippantly into the wind. Tiny dots of blood rose to the surface of her tenderized flesh. She let out a scream that frightened everything that heard it, except him; it excited him. He buried his face at her neck, slowly and fully taking in the scent of her. He lifted his face to the heavens and exhaled slowly.
She was His.