THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM [RP]
Benjamin Lloyd was a man that was rarely pleased nor interested in a given party; with intelligence that could astound some of the most famous geniuses of history, he was a psychiatrist's dream. Gifted with a fast analytical mind that fuelled the darker secret he kept locked away from the sights of society, Benjamin found himself adept at transitioning between the two variations of civilization: the sophisticated upper class that held themselves with poise and grace, and the shadowy undergrounds of the violent gang life that had suddenly swept through the islands of Hawaii like a biblical plague sent to seek and destroy all that lay within its path. However, this often left him with a certain distaste for what he witnessed within an "acceptable" society; bumbling buffoons that had no real ambition, no goals in life, these were the individuals that initiated the cold glare of the young professor. On so many occasions, he had seen the life of an adolescent waste away, falling victim to a society which seemed devoid of the mystical, enchanting glamour that it once held. Yet, he had seen something that had astounded even himself; a spark that flickered to life within the dullness of a simple-minded youth. His interest perked when a young man had entered into his lecture room, a boy in his early twenties by the looks of it; and it was within this jubilant knowledge-hungry mind that Benjamin Lloyd was able to take a glimpse at himself before his personalities had become distorted into one large mess swept beneath the carpet. He saw potential, intellect, a body with a thirst to prove himself worthy of his opportunity. It was a rare sight, within this day and age. And as the paternal figure in his misfit family, Benjamin could not help himself when it came to nurturing the orphan, feeding him the knowledge he so desired, holding his hand through the fires of stress and mental breakdowns. To him, Oliver Hart was but a seedling that needed to be tended to in order to grow into the handsome, strong birch that towered above all, able to withstand the howling winds of any storm that sought to wreak havoc upon the world. And with that interest, Benjamin took an active role in his life... He seemed to find those with a broken past the easiest to mold, and while Oliver Hart had spoken little of his origins, he could see it upon his face, within the very lines upon his forehead, that the young man had seen some unspeakable horrors...
A muffled cry emanated from the dark room in which only one flickering dull light was presented with the chore of illuminating the entire expanse of the derelict area. Aging dust had settled over the dilapidated building as years tore through the very foundation. And yet, life still stirred within this ancient crypt kept alive by the notorious gangs that spread their poisonous seeds across Hawaii... Tonight was going to send a dose of rejuvenation into the earth once again, refreshing the cold brick and rusted steel...
The hood was torn off of her head, sending an array of dark dazzling curls flopping about pale porcelain skin in a messy array. She was beautiful, like a little porcelain doll that had been carelessly tossed about. Her lip was busted open, tainting those rosy surfaces with a hint of crimson. Tears stained her cheeks; her eyes were swollen from crying. A silent sob escaped her quivering form, her bottom lip trembled pathetically. "Please..." She managed to whisper with bright blue eyes looking up towards the silhouetted figure that stood, observing, watching the master at work.
"Now now, m'dear." Benjamin's velvet smooth voice rang through the eerie silence; the same enthusiastic charm struck the heart of every syllable that left his lips. His fingers ran over her face, causing her to cringe away from his touch. "You were destined for eternal beauty..." His voice trailed off into the black pit of the room as those predacious silvery eyes fell upon the boyish figure of the young man whom stood in a stunned silence. Oliver could barely believe his eyes; it was as if an illusion had befallen over the wrecked, condemned building secretly stowing away the scent of murder behind its dusty walls. He had never seen the professor like this; he had never witnessed the transition into the homicidal maniac before him. And yet, there was still that suave appeal to him, as if the fact that he was a deranged killer meant nothing. Benjamin saw beauty in death; he viewed it as a piece of artwork sculpted by only the finest of hands; yet, what Oliver couldn't understand was why had this psychopathic individual chosen him as an audience for the havoc he was about to reap? The young law student took a deep breath as he braved a step closer toward the woman whom stank of fear and perfume, a sickening combination that only provoked a perverted sensation to ripple through his body, causing his hair to stand on end in the most envigorating manner. Oliver's pale sea-toned hues seemed drawn to the defenseless doll until Benjamin unsheathed his greatest trophy that glinted and glimmered viciously in the stammering faux light. A knife with a jagged edge seemed hungry for flesh.
"Wh-What are you going to do? Professor? I..." Oliver could barely managed the few words that left his lips as he observed the maniacal manner in which Benjamin seemed to circle the bound woman. He was a predator eyeing his prey. A crash of thunder spilled into the silence, a deafening roar that accompanied a vibrant flash of silver-blue. Oliver practically jumped out of his skin, stumbling backward with heart racing rapidly within his chest, as if he had just run a million miles.
But Benjamin only let a low, quiet chuckle slip from his lips the moment the rumbling thunder had ceased in its terrifying broadcast of its presence. He brought the blade up, close to the porcelain skin of the girl whose eyes found a fresh reserve of tears. She plead with him once again, yet, her cries fell upon deaf ears for the professor had but one thing on his mind.
"You are young, Mr. Hart" He started, allowing the flat edge of the knife to run along her cheeks with the sharp tip halting upon her trembling lips. "You've held a sheltered life; tragic yes... but sheltered..." His eyes flashed from the prize before him towards his student momentarily, before his focus fell upon the college girl again.
Oliver stood in a stunned silence interrupted only by the protesting storm that circled around the abandoned warehouse. Yet, his gaze was no longer drawn by the captivating illusion of his deranged professor, but more towards the young girl. He knew her from somewhere. That porcelain skin and dark locks; those unforgettable eyes... It was none other than Rachel Phelps, a young psychology student that had been besotted with Benjamin since their very first lecture together.
"... I know what you feel inside, my boy. You crave freedom where you had none. You seek a new lifestyle, to live up at the top of the world instead of in the dumps. You want to press forward with your life..." He paused, digging the knife skillfully into those plump lips causing a prickle of red to spring to life before dribbling down over the perfect curvature. "There is something about you that I saw in myself all those years ago when I had sat in the room with my professor." He removed the knife, smearing the blood over the woman's quivering lips with a gloved thumb, painting it on as if she were a doll in need of a few touch ups. "I can show you what it's like to be in control... to be alive." Benjamin's eyes flitted towards Oliver, that dazzling smile painting over his lips before he continued enthusiastically as if he were an artist promoted by insanity; and while he continued sculpting the young woman's body with quick strokes of his deadly brush, the storm raged ever onwards. His motions were precise and skilled, applying the perfect pressure where need be without causing too much damage to permit an untimely death; her moans, groans, and whimpers of pain only seemed to spur him on, as if it were part of the cocaine that injected energy into his body. Soon enough, he swept across the room in a sweeping movement, holding the knife high so that the blood that dripped along the edge was caught majestically within the electrifying streaks of lightning that illuminated the skies like great lines of fire drawn across a black canvas. He was insane. He was mad. Deranged. There was no other way to describe him in this instance; and yet, Oliver could only stand and watch with awe, a secretive longing igniting within the pits of his stomach. He yearned for such freedom, for a relief from the grief that he carried heavily within his heart.
The passing of his brother, Rocco, had not been an easy one to get past; and while his parents had continuously said that it was "God's wish", Oliver couldn't come to accept it. He wouldn't. His parents, the entire village, was blind to the corruption and elusive death that occurred so that some old bag could remain at the top of the food chain. He was weakened by the very thought, that last day he had seen him before they had dragged him away in the ceremonial garb that would spell out his doom. His hand curled into a fist as the thoughts came rushing into his mind, the re-enactment clear as day; for a brief second he was no longer in the dark hall surrounded by the metallic scent of blood that spilled through open flesh, but, instead, he was back at the compound. He was in front of the Elder with that same ravenous knife in his hand; and in one swift movement the Elder was sent to the floor, grasping at the open wound dug into his throat...
Oliver's eyes snapped open to the sound of the girl's blood-curdling screams of pain that were drowned out by the heavy down pour of rain that had followed the silencing of the storm above. Benjamin seemed to find pleasure in her squeals of agony, for he imitated her with his own outrageous shouts, driving the knife in deeper each time, twisting it, turning it, as he carved his own masterpiece about her skin. "Do you see it, Oliver?" He questioned, standing up straight before taking a few steps back to admire his work of art as an artist would. "Do you see the beauty captivated on her face? Over her body?" A sickening smirk licked his lips, causing Oliver's stomach to knot uncomfortably. The young law student took a few shivering breaths before he turned to his professor; yet Benjamin was not done with his interrogation. A blood stained glove latched onto Oliver's shoulder as he approached the young man with that deranged glint within his eye; his remaining hand grabbed a hold of Oliver's jaw, forcing the young man to gulp timidly. The scent of blood was unbearable; Oliver could feel the nausea rise within his bowls, and he was afraid that he would upchuck all over the professor. His heart beat had not slowed in the past hour that Benjamin had been hacking away at the poor, defenseless soul before him; instead, it only quickened now as he felt the cool of the bloodied blade press against his cheek, positioned snugly within Benjamin's fingers. "Do you smell it, my boy? Do you feel it?" With that, he released Oliver before disappearing into the shadows, leaving the unsettled young man nervously looking about, searching for an exit.
This was it, he thought to himself; his legs were like jelly, they refused to move. Oliver was sure his fate was to be sealed like poor Rachel's had. His breathing was shallow; his chest rose and fell with rapid succession until the time that Benjamin re-emerged. It was then that Oliver's heart leapt into his throat and practically ceased in its thumping rhythm. With his appearing figure, a dull scraping reverberated about the dusty room that constricted the throat with the violence that had occurred upon the eve. It's a chair for me, Oliver thought instinctively assuming the worst; yet, with that flickering fluorescent light to guide his gaze, Oliver felt a selfish wave of relief wash over him as his eyes spotted a pretty little blonde figure who wrestled against her restraints vigorously. Life still flowed in her veins, unlike the submissive sorrow that had embraced the porcelain doll before she met her demise. Benjamin kicked the other chair over, causing the lifeless, blood-drained body to flop pitifully into the dirt; sand and dust instantly retreated into those opened wounds. The young blonde screamed, her sapphire eyes quickly darting from the dead towards the living. Recognition lingered within her tear-filled eyes for a split second; Oliver felt the same wave smack him right in the face. He knew this girl. He knew her well. Her name was Emily. His Emily. The young temptress that had ripped his heart from his chest and run off into the dead of night with it. A loud thud announced Benjamin's final adjustments, before the brisk footfalls were noted as he approached Oliver. Blood was smeared across his pale skin; a few strands of dark hair danced about his face, only to be smoothed backward, spreading more blood over his visage in the process.
"Think of it as a 'coming of age' present." Benjamin said in a low velvety whisper; Oliver could feel the heat of his breath against his ear as he pressed the handle of the knife into his hand.
Oliver held it with a loose grip, disbelief and bewilderment rooted to him to the spot and stole the words from his very lips, until Benjamin nudged him forward. Oliver responded with a few stumbling steps before he turned around. His hands were trembling, his own eyes threatened to spill tears of suffering after witnessing this traumatic event. "For the love of God, professor, please don't make me do this... It is sin to take life..." He had to bite onto his lip to prevent him from breaking down into a heap of whimpering tears.
"God?" Benjamin let out a callous laugh that echoed about the derelict room. "There is no God, kid!" He exclaimed, throwing his hands up and twirling about in a tight circle, like a fool of a ballerina. This was briefly lived for a few seconds later he was striding closer to Oliver, closer than comfort would permit after witnessing such a spectacle. "Do you think God would have let your brother die in that hell hole? Oh, don't look shocked; you're a clever boy. I'm a clever man. I know things. I know everything..." Oliver could smell his cologne mingled with the heavy metallic odor that he wore with such pride. A tear slithered down Oliver's cheek. "There is no God, son. He is but an illusion we create for some comfort when things go wrong..."
"You're wrong..." Oliver yelled back, pushing Benjamin's shoulder's violently, sending the twisted gentleman staggering back slightly. "You're wrong..." He repeated in a whisper; and yet, he found no fault in the words that had been thrown about. His faith was dwindling before, so why shouldn't he? Why shouldn't he seek a different method of comfort? His eyes glanced from Benjamin's stern silvery glare toward the young blonde whose pretty tear stained face had been engraved into the mind of the rock star law student, and back again.
"She broke your heart, Mr. Hart. She stole it - and the only way you will find relief is if you obtain it for yourself..."
Oliver drew long, deep breaths. He searched for reason, for logic, for anything that would condemn the actions of murder; and yet, he could find none. He could find no solace in the whims of the fantasy that his 'God' was. He had been disappointed so many times; he had been on the brink of heresy for months since his brother's death. Why should he turn to the heavens when the temptations of hell were far sweeter? Silence fell upon the abandoned building in which this flurry of terrible events were occurring; it was an unnerving silence, like the calm before the storm. Not a breath of wind, nor trickle of rain. Just quiet.
"Oliver, please.... think..." Emily's small voice broke the silence, she broke the quiet in which Oliver was permitted sometime of reflection.
A crash of lightning struck, sending a surge through the electrical circuit; the flickering light above crackled and popped dousing the room in a threatening blackness that provided the perfect veil for the perfect crime. Another flash of lightning illuminated the sky, providing brief glimpses of Oliver as he prowled forward, stalking, just as Benjamin had as he approached the porcelain doll. "You were all I ever wanted, Em." He spoke softly as he reached her; the darkness fell over his shoulders once again, bathing him in its cold embrace. The wind howled its encouraging melancholic melody. He drew in a deep breath. "You broke my heart... And in God's name, I'm going to break yours."
A muffled cry emanated from the dark room in which only one flickering dull light was presented with the chore of illuminating the entire expanse of the derelict area. Aging dust had settled over the dilapidated building as years tore through the very foundation. And yet, life still stirred within this ancient crypt kept alive by the notorious gangs that spread their poisonous seeds across Hawaii... Tonight was going to send a dose of rejuvenation into the earth once again, refreshing the cold brick and rusted steel...
The hood was torn off of her head, sending an array of dark dazzling curls flopping about pale porcelain skin in a messy array. She was beautiful, like a little porcelain doll that had been carelessly tossed about. Her lip was busted open, tainting those rosy surfaces with a hint of crimson. Tears stained her cheeks; her eyes were swollen from crying. A silent sob escaped her quivering form, her bottom lip trembled pathetically. "Please..." She managed to whisper with bright blue eyes looking up towards the silhouetted figure that stood, observing, watching the master at work.
"Now now, m'dear." Benjamin's velvet smooth voice rang through the eerie silence; the same enthusiastic charm struck the heart of every syllable that left his lips. His fingers ran over her face, causing her to cringe away from his touch. "You were destined for eternal beauty..." His voice trailed off into the black pit of the room as those predacious silvery eyes fell upon the boyish figure of the young man whom stood in a stunned silence. Oliver could barely believe his eyes; it was as if an illusion had befallen over the wrecked, condemned building secretly stowing away the scent of murder behind its dusty walls. He had never seen the professor like this; he had never witnessed the transition into the homicidal maniac before him. And yet, there was still that suave appeal to him, as if the fact that he was a deranged killer meant nothing. Benjamin saw beauty in death; he viewed it as a piece of artwork sculpted by only the finest of hands; yet, what Oliver couldn't understand was why had this psychopathic individual chosen him as an audience for the havoc he was about to reap? The young law student took a deep breath as he braved a step closer toward the woman whom stank of fear and perfume, a sickening combination that only provoked a perverted sensation to ripple through his body, causing his hair to stand on end in the most envigorating manner. Oliver's pale sea-toned hues seemed drawn to the defenseless doll until Benjamin unsheathed his greatest trophy that glinted and glimmered viciously in the stammering faux light. A knife with a jagged edge seemed hungry for flesh.
"Wh-What are you going to do? Professor? I..." Oliver could barely managed the few words that left his lips as he observed the maniacal manner in which Benjamin seemed to circle the bound woman. He was a predator eyeing his prey. A crash of thunder spilled into the silence, a deafening roar that accompanied a vibrant flash of silver-blue. Oliver practically jumped out of his skin, stumbling backward with heart racing rapidly within his chest, as if he had just run a million miles.
But Benjamin only let a low, quiet chuckle slip from his lips the moment the rumbling thunder had ceased in its terrifying broadcast of its presence. He brought the blade up, close to the porcelain skin of the girl whose eyes found a fresh reserve of tears. She plead with him once again, yet, her cries fell upon deaf ears for the professor had but one thing on his mind.
"You are young, Mr. Hart" He started, allowing the flat edge of the knife to run along her cheeks with the sharp tip halting upon her trembling lips. "You've held a sheltered life; tragic yes... but sheltered..." His eyes flashed from the prize before him towards his student momentarily, before his focus fell upon the college girl again.
Oliver stood in a stunned silence interrupted only by the protesting storm that circled around the abandoned warehouse. Yet, his gaze was no longer drawn by the captivating illusion of his deranged professor, but more towards the young girl. He knew her from somewhere. That porcelain skin and dark locks; those unforgettable eyes... It was none other than Rachel Phelps, a young psychology student that had been besotted with Benjamin since their very first lecture together.
"... I know what you feel inside, my boy. You crave freedom where you had none. You seek a new lifestyle, to live up at the top of the world instead of in the dumps. You want to press forward with your life..." He paused, digging the knife skillfully into those plump lips causing a prickle of red to spring to life before dribbling down over the perfect curvature. "There is something about you that I saw in myself all those years ago when I had sat in the room with my professor." He removed the knife, smearing the blood over the woman's quivering lips with a gloved thumb, painting it on as if she were a doll in need of a few touch ups. "I can show you what it's like to be in control... to be alive." Benjamin's eyes flitted towards Oliver, that dazzling smile painting over his lips before he continued enthusiastically as if he were an artist promoted by insanity; and while he continued sculpting the young woman's body with quick strokes of his deadly brush, the storm raged ever onwards. His motions were precise and skilled, applying the perfect pressure where need be without causing too much damage to permit an untimely death; her moans, groans, and whimpers of pain only seemed to spur him on, as if it were part of the cocaine that injected energy into his body. Soon enough, he swept across the room in a sweeping movement, holding the knife high so that the blood that dripped along the edge was caught majestically within the electrifying streaks of lightning that illuminated the skies like great lines of fire drawn across a black canvas. He was insane. He was mad. Deranged. There was no other way to describe him in this instance; and yet, Oliver could only stand and watch with awe, a secretive longing igniting within the pits of his stomach. He yearned for such freedom, for a relief from the grief that he carried heavily within his heart.
The passing of his brother, Rocco, had not been an easy one to get past; and while his parents had continuously said that it was "God's wish", Oliver couldn't come to accept it. He wouldn't. His parents, the entire village, was blind to the corruption and elusive death that occurred so that some old bag could remain at the top of the food chain. He was weakened by the very thought, that last day he had seen him before they had dragged him away in the ceremonial garb that would spell out his doom. His hand curled into a fist as the thoughts came rushing into his mind, the re-enactment clear as day; for a brief second he was no longer in the dark hall surrounded by the metallic scent of blood that spilled through open flesh, but, instead, he was back at the compound. He was in front of the Elder with that same ravenous knife in his hand; and in one swift movement the Elder was sent to the floor, grasping at the open wound dug into his throat...
Oliver's eyes snapped open to the sound of the girl's blood-curdling screams of pain that were drowned out by the heavy down pour of rain that had followed the silencing of the storm above. Benjamin seemed to find pleasure in her squeals of agony, for he imitated her with his own outrageous shouts, driving the knife in deeper each time, twisting it, turning it, as he carved his own masterpiece about her skin. "Do you see it, Oliver?" He questioned, standing up straight before taking a few steps back to admire his work of art as an artist would. "Do you see the beauty captivated on her face? Over her body?" A sickening smirk licked his lips, causing Oliver's stomach to knot uncomfortably. The young law student took a few shivering breaths before he turned to his professor; yet Benjamin was not done with his interrogation. A blood stained glove latched onto Oliver's shoulder as he approached the young man with that deranged glint within his eye; his remaining hand grabbed a hold of Oliver's jaw, forcing the young man to gulp timidly. The scent of blood was unbearable; Oliver could feel the nausea rise within his bowls, and he was afraid that he would upchuck all over the professor. His heart beat had not slowed in the past hour that Benjamin had been hacking away at the poor, defenseless soul before him; instead, it only quickened now as he felt the cool of the bloodied blade press against his cheek, positioned snugly within Benjamin's fingers. "Do you smell it, my boy? Do you feel it?" With that, he released Oliver before disappearing into the shadows, leaving the unsettled young man nervously looking about, searching for an exit.
This was it, he thought to himself; his legs were like jelly, they refused to move. Oliver was sure his fate was to be sealed like poor Rachel's had. His breathing was shallow; his chest rose and fell with rapid succession until the time that Benjamin re-emerged. It was then that Oliver's heart leapt into his throat and practically ceased in its thumping rhythm. With his appearing figure, a dull scraping reverberated about the dusty room that constricted the throat with the violence that had occurred upon the eve. It's a chair for me, Oliver thought instinctively assuming the worst; yet, with that flickering fluorescent light to guide his gaze, Oliver felt a selfish wave of relief wash over him as his eyes spotted a pretty little blonde figure who wrestled against her restraints vigorously. Life still flowed in her veins, unlike the submissive sorrow that had embraced the porcelain doll before she met her demise. Benjamin kicked the other chair over, causing the lifeless, blood-drained body to flop pitifully into the dirt; sand and dust instantly retreated into those opened wounds. The young blonde screamed, her sapphire eyes quickly darting from the dead towards the living. Recognition lingered within her tear-filled eyes for a split second; Oliver felt the same wave smack him right in the face. He knew this girl. He knew her well. Her name was Emily. His Emily. The young temptress that had ripped his heart from his chest and run off into the dead of night with it. A loud thud announced Benjamin's final adjustments, before the brisk footfalls were noted as he approached Oliver. Blood was smeared across his pale skin; a few strands of dark hair danced about his face, only to be smoothed backward, spreading more blood over his visage in the process.
"Think of it as a 'coming of age' present." Benjamin said in a low velvety whisper; Oliver could feel the heat of his breath against his ear as he pressed the handle of the knife into his hand.
Oliver held it with a loose grip, disbelief and bewilderment rooted to him to the spot and stole the words from his very lips, until Benjamin nudged him forward. Oliver responded with a few stumbling steps before he turned around. His hands were trembling, his own eyes threatened to spill tears of suffering after witnessing this traumatic event. "For the love of God, professor, please don't make me do this... It is sin to take life..." He had to bite onto his lip to prevent him from breaking down into a heap of whimpering tears.
"God?" Benjamin let out a callous laugh that echoed about the derelict room. "There is no God, kid!" He exclaimed, throwing his hands up and twirling about in a tight circle, like a fool of a ballerina. This was briefly lived for a few seconds later he was striding closer to Oliver, closer than comfort would permit after witnessing such a spectacle. "Do you think God would have let your brother die in that hell hole? Oh, don't look shocked; you're a clever boy. I'm a clever man. I know things. I know everything..." Oliver could smell his cologne mingled with the heavy metallic odor that he wore with such pride. A tear slithered down Oliver's cheek. "There is no God, son. He is but an illusion we create for some comfort when things go wrong..."
"You're wrong..." Oliver yelled back, pushing Benjamin's shoulder's violently, sending the twisted gentleman staggering back slightly. "You're wrong..." He repeated in a whisper; and yet, he found no fault in the words that had been thrown about. His faith was dwindling before, so why shouldn't he? Why shouldn't he seek a different method of comfort? His eyes glanced from Benjamin's stern silvery glare toward the young blonde whose pretty tear stained face had been engraved into the mind of the rock star law student, and back again.
"She broke your heart, Mr. Hart. She stole it - and the only way you will find relief is if you obtain it for yourself..."
Oliver drew long, deep breaths. He searched for reason, for logic, for anything that would condemn the actions of murder; and yet, he could find none. He could find no solace in the whims of the fantasy that his 'God' was. He had been disappointed so many times; he had been on the brink of heresy for months since his brother's death. Why should he turn to the heavens when the temptations of hell were far sweeter? Silence fell upon the abandoned building in which this flurry of terrible events were occurring; it was an unnerving silence, like the calm before the storm. Not a breath of wind, nor trickle of rain. Just quiet.
"Oliver, please.... think..." Emily's small voice broke the silence, she broke the quiet in which Oliver was permitted sometime of reflection.
A crash of lightning struck, sending a surge through the electrical circuit; the flickering light above crackled and popped dousing the room in a threatening blackness that provided the perfect veil for the perfect crime. Another flash of lightning illuminated the sky, providing brief glimpses of Oliver as he prowled forward, stalking, just as Benjamin had as he approached the porcelain doll. "You were all I ever wanted, Em." He spoke softly as he reached her; the darkness fell over his shoulders once again, bathing him in its cold embrace. The wind howled its encouraging melancholic melody. He drew in a deep breath. "You broke my heart... And in God's name, I'm going to break yours."