Dynamics ( George Chervil ). - Tumblr Posts
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Send 🎬 for a random scene in my muse's life.
Annelise gripped the bars of the ferry, a feeble attempt to steady the trembling in her hands. The boat hadn't departed from the dock yet, but she already felt a thousand miles away from the girl she was this morning. The night air was cold, unreasonably so, and yet she couldn't seem to feel anything but terror and regret surging through her veins, flooding her with a heated ire she couldn't quite describe.
For what felt like the millionth time that night, Annelise felt a sense of dread swell in her chest. In the span of a few hours, everything she'd ever known had shattered to pieces and she'd ruined more than just her own life in the process. She'd been so sure that George would've proposed. He'd been stringing her along for a month, and she couldn't imagine that meant anything other than intent. But his words stuck into her flesh like barbs, each syllable dripping in venom.
Oh my God, he'd spat between curved lips. You thought I would marry you.
It hadn't even been a question, just a fact, plain and true and blindingly clear in retrospect. George had never intended to propose to Annelise. She had merely been an outlet to relieve himself of his manly needs, his toy to play with and cast aside when he was done. It all seemed so painfully obvious now, and Annie had never felt so stupid.
You're beautiful, I'll grant you that. And I had a fine time between your thighs.
The memory of his words is sour and bile rises in her throat at the thought. How had she let him tarnish her in such a way? How stupid had she truly been to believe someone like George Chervil would be capable of anything other than lust?
You have no money to speak of, and your family certainly will not enhance my own.
Anne shook her head, willing the echoes of his words to leave her alone. Even with the deafening crash of the tides below her, all Annelise could hear were his words on repeat, growing louder and more saturated with poison each time around.
She tries to redirect her own thoughts, to anything other than George, but the feat is near impossible. She manages to switch her train of thought to Fiona Beckwith, his supposed fiancée. An unassuming girl, really, but one that had somehow managed to steal Annie's life from her without even trying. George did not love Fiona. But he didn't love Annelise, either. The only thing he loved was the feeling of a woman's mind and body wrapped around his finger.
Before she can allow her mind to spiral even further into despair, the ferry's horn blew, signalling the departure of the vessel. The sound was loud, loud enough to drown out the voices in her head for at least a moment. Other passengers flooded to the bars around her, eager to wave goodbye to their loved ones. But Annelise remained frozen, tears rising in her eyes as she searched for faces that weren't there.
Annelise Shawcross had died, hours ago. The life she had always known was a distant memory now and the path forward was foggy. Who was she supposed to be now that she could not be herself? She had spent sixteen years of her life molding herself into the Annelise that the world expected her to be. And now she was left raw and naked, without a single idea of how to begin again.
"Goodbye." Her voice isn't audible over the cacophony of waves and chatter and machinery. But it's for the best, she thinks. No one would've heard her words anyhow. There was no one left to say goodbye to, no one left to mourn her as she began her life. The noises also help to drown out the awful sound of her sniffling and the rattling in her chest as a sob escapes her lips, her grief and despair falling into the dark, choppy waters below.