Master Class: The Hunt Begins

I took a little break from my normal White Wolves responses for Master Class this week because the prompt furthered a scene in a short story I'm working on so well.  I do have to give a quick warning here.  While the scene is totally PG, there is an oblique reference to child abuse.  Just don't want anyone to get caught off guard.  And, please, let me know if the way it is handled in this piece is problematic.  I am hoping I've addressed it in a respectful and appropriate way, but it is a rough draft and I am certainly not perfect.

Anyways, the one piece of background you need to know for this scene is that "She" is Juno/Demeter/Rhiannon.  In other words, she who is known to be the protector of children.  And my working title for the short story is "Karma Incarnate".  Let me know what you think and be sure to check out other great responses over at Our Write Side via the button below.

                Perfect, she thought.  That was the chance she needed.  Her work could truly begin.  She insinuated herself utterly into his body, her cells paired with his, her heart beat in perfect synchrony with his, her mind enmeshed with his.  His thoughts made her furious and ill.  That part always did.

                In the basement, he sat down and buried his head in his hands.  Thoughts, memories, feeling, and more exploded chaotically.  Regret, fear, satisfaction.  His own childhood memories.  Good and bad.  Pictures.  Films.  They paraded around his mind until he was physically ill.  He sobbed.  He laughed.  He screamed into a pillow.  He punched a hole in the wall without noticing the cuts streaming blood down his arm as a result.

                There was a small part of her that wanted to feel sorry for him.  She saw those memories, too.  There was only one of her and so many more evil-doers that chose to harm children in the world now.  She got there and put a stop to it as quickly as she could.  Just like tonight.  But it didn’t excuse what he did tonight, and the much larger part of her felt no remorse for him.  He had another choice.  He chose wrong.

                All the while she hid in the back of his mind, in the deep recesses of his body, pulling strings and pushing buttons.  Watching while all of his witty untruths crumbled into the blackened detritus they were.

                She backed off and surrendered her influence when she sensed he was at his tipping point.  She didn’t want him to lose it.  That was the easy way out and he didn’t deserve that.  Not even close.  He could have chosen another way.

And you still have a few more days to link up with the Don't Panic Picture Prompt if you haven't yet!  I dare ya to give it a try!