Willowing October

this is a story I'm writing. Its still in progress. Enjoy.

She walked along the tattered trail as the thorns from the lush bushes slit her skin. Anastasia stared forward with an outlying gaze as the malice trickled through her veins and threatened to consume her. Barefoot she slipped through the tousled woods as her naked and threadbare feet benevolently swept against the cold October ground. She slowed as she came into the narrow aperture in the trees where she stepped quietly to the tattered corpse of the beaten and barley breathing young man she had bound to a aged willow tree just days before. She ran her elegant fingers through his hair arching his head back and as she put the edge of the ridged blade to his throat, she leaned to his ear and delicately whispered “This sorrow’s heavenly, it strikes where it doth love; but sleep will find you soon, beneath the shining stars, lay the with thy gleaming moon. ” He drew in his last breath as she pressed the blade into his skin and with one poised motion, let it sashay across his throat. She arose slowly as his limp body lay delicately against the willow tree. She took a step back and observed him lying with a bittersweet glaze of crimson silk slowly soaking his frayed white shirt. It was then that the images of their past came seeping into her mind only to fill her with the same malice she had felt walking through the forest. Anastasia’s porcelain white skin rose as the chills of the night crept upon her. She turned to the path and started to walk away glancing only momentarily back to the Willow.
His name was Craven Alexander, the next in line to inherit his family’s fortune and in the public eye he was poised, charismatic and compassionate but behind closed doors he was astringent, arrogant and narcissistic. No matter what Alexander was or pretended to be one thing never changed, he got whatever and whoever he wanted, and he wanted Anastasia Chambers. It was that day that would forever haunt her, forever contravene her soul and refuse to be forgotten that he gave the order to his servants to have her dragged from her home and brought to him in the middle of the night against her will.
Anastasia stops walking, closes her eyes and tries to shake off the memories of being carted from her bed, hands tied and gagged as she was taken from her home. Her last feelings of a perfect life shattered in that moment. She tries gathering her thoughts but the images are pushing, they keep pouring into her mind, refusing to be forgotten. She remembers every detail about that night. The way Craven smirked at her when they brought her through the door, they way the room smelled, the ticking of the clock, the way he sat there calmly staring at her as she kneel on here knees in front of him, and the way his mere smirk made her feel desecrated and exposed. All the noble traits she had always believed he possessed vanished. “That’s enough” she says out loud as if to banish the memories with the shear spike in her voice….