She walked on the side-walk, without cover, irrespective of the fact that it was pouring down. Her thin lavender frock stuck to her slender frame highlighting her curves. It was a deserted street except for one or two souls running across the street for shelter. But Darla was in no hurry. She walked with her arms folded across her chest and her head bent low. Locks of her red shoulder-length hair stuck to the nape of her neck looking like blood trickling down from her head.
It was 18:23 and the clouds were a dark grey making it look like it was late at night already. The rain had caused a power-cut and the only sources of light in that neighborhood were the sporadic flashes of bright lightening followed by loud thunders. She walked on, her shoes making a light clicking sound on the stone pavement, thinking. She wasn’t thinking about the fight she had had with Gordon or how she had stormed out of the house without thinking twice. Instead she was thinking of what lay ahead of her; of what was to become of her.
“Things can’t go on like this!” she moaned.
Gordon Vaughan was her live-in partner. She had moved in with him seven months ago when things were happy. But from a past few weeks, Gordon had become possessive, very possessive. He wanted to know where Darla went, with whom and why. Darla was an independent woman who enjoyed her freedom. Holding her back with questions was not the best move Gordon had made and Darla had made that very clear to him,
“Gordon, you can’t be like this! Things cannot be like this! I won’t be able to function with your doubts shadowing me everywhere!”
“Well then go on! Why are you dragging this on? If you don’t like it, end it!” Gordon had roared.
“Oh you’d love that now, won’t you?!” Although Darla had replied back in a temper, Gordon’s reaction had shocked her. All the love, all the things they had gone through together, to come to this? “Don’t be like this…” Darla had begged, not wanting to let go yet. She loved Gordon, had always. And didn’t Gordon feel for her too?
She kept walking straight ahead, not really realising where she was going. Suddenly, she stopped; stopped right in front of a man. She tried to see his face but it was quite hidden by the collar of his coat and the brim of his hat which sat low on his head.
“Sorry,” she muttered and started walking past him, when he grabbed her by the hand and pulled her towards him.
She turned sharply and looked at the man with wide eyes now brimming with fear.
[Continued in LAVENDER BLOOD (Part II)]