Ooh, man, really nervous…. Okay, first story ever for me on this place, so pleeeeease be nice. I'll be your friend and everything, which is good, since one day I'll rule the world…
My little sis is a big fan, so I promised her a holiday story. She reads everything I write and really likes it. So yay.
It's five years after the group has disbanded, and they all live on the West Coast. I read all y'all's stories to help me with names and such. A whole bunch of you have got some real talent, so my hat's off to you.
Also, I've always loved the name 'James'. Sadly, it is the name of my antagonist. It's quite a shame, because now that I've made him a jerk, I don't like his name anymore. Now if I ever have a son, it'll have to be something ridiculous and foreign, like Mumbo.
P.S: British people, don't hate me. I love your accent. Be my friend?
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own insanity
Anyhoo, here goes:
Chapter 1: The Backstabbing Brit
Mr. James Ethridge was a prominent, British doctor in Oregon. Over the years in the practice he had saved many countless lives. His co-workers and nurses appreciated his optimism and skill. Women wanted him and men wanted to be him. With his wavy, blonde locks, dazzling smile, and sensuous voice, all knew he was the perfect catch. The woman who would snag his heart would be the luckiest woman in all of Oregon.
Only she thought differently.
Her name was Vesper Crow. No one really knew much about her. She had moved to town a few years ago, settled into the psychiatric ward, and was hired as a therapist. Well, technically she was a psychiatrist, but the word sounded too harsh for her. She preferred 'therapist'. It was more inviting.
The odd, silent woman had caught James' attention immediately. She was the first who had never fawned over his brilliant intellect and charming visage (A/N: cocky, no?) and didn't even seem fazed when she saw him. It intrigued him. She intrigued him.
I mean, she was no average-looking girl. Her hair, which reached down past her shoulder blades, and her eyes were both deep shades of purple. Her skin was pallid and a chakra rested on her forehead. People assumed it was a glue-on.
It didn't matter to James. He pressed constantly for Vesper's fancy. Although she didn't let it show, he knew he was breaking her slowly. She was a hard one to crack, though. Her reserved, silently mocking personality tended to backfire whatever plans he concocted in order woo her. After a long while of courting her he learned that it was the fact that she was a challenge to tame that kept their relationship entertaining.
In the end, after much pushing, Vesper agreed to a date. He followed every date procedure by the book, and at the end of the day, James knew he had won her over. Finally he worked up the nerve to propose marriage. Vesper was hesitant at first, but accepted. Everyone was proud of their good, little, golden boy.
But boredom struck a chord within him, and Vesper soon was unable to satisfy his needs. Almost immediately following his proposal he began to stray. In his office one afternoon, in between surgeries, he received a shocking phone call. Putting down the phone, he sighed, preparing for another insipid operation. At the end of the day he drove to his home where Vesper would be waiting. What he had to tell her at dinner was certainly not the best of news.
Vesper looked heartbroken. "But I thought we had something!"
James shifted in his seat. "Well, we did – I mean, we do – it's just that I've been thinking about it and –"
"You're canceling the wedding." She stated flatly.
There. It was out in the open. She couldn't contain her fury and grief long enough for him to say it instead.
"Yes, Vesper," he looked at his hands. "I'm backing out."
"But why? I need a reason!" Vesper felt tears clouding her view and gathering on her lower eyelid. "You can't just leave me! I thought you loved me."
"I do love you," He reached across the table to take her hand. "But I… love someone else."
She pulled back. "What?"
James sighed impatiently. "I've met another woman, Vesper."
"But, James, I…" now she could barely see at all. "I don't want to see you." She stood abruptly. "I don't want to see you, you bastard."
He quickly reached out and snared her hand again as she passed him. "Honestly, darling, I'm so sorry. If she wasn't bearing my child I would still marry you!"
She froze. Her hand went dead still in his. "You're fathering another woman's child?" She couldn't take it. If she didn't get out of the house soon, she'd collapse.
"Vesper, I –"
"Let go of my hand, James," she said grimly, but her voice was tinted with pent-up danger. She had to get out before she lost control.
"Hey, I said I was sorry!"
She jerked back, pulling herself from his strong grip. "I don't want your apologies, you monster!"
James, in unexpected rage, flew from his chair and stood towering before her, as she was so tiny. He glared at her threateningly. "You don't call me a monster, you half-demon witch!"
In shock, Vesper backed all the way up to the kitchen counter. "How – how do you know?" She didn't like where this was going at all.
"What; know that you've been lying to me all this time? That you're really Raven?" He came closer to her. "You've lied to me. But I accepted it. Now I let your heart get a little bruised because it's my turn to lie. What's the difference?"
Her hands gripped the counter. This strange turn of events was getting out of hand. She felt the items in the room escaping her mental grip. She knew they had the potential to break within seconds. "The difference is that you cheated on me. I kept my secret to protect you."
"Oh, pish-posh, Vesper –" James took another menacing step. Vesper reached for a cutting knife and pointed it threateningly at him.
"Another step," she hissed, "and I'll make you a eunuch."
He paused. "Kelly's coming over as we speak. I suggest you leave."
Another burst of fury burst through her body. Several dishes shattered loudly all around the kitchen. Porcelain scattered on the floor and counters. She sneered as he gawked at the new mess. "Consider that my parting gift to you. Goodbye, James."
And she left him to his lonely house.
That's the first chapter. It gets better. Promise. I don't ask for flames; they burn me. But I do appreciate constructive criticism. I'm a grammatical perfectionist. If I find any misspellings or incorrect punctuation in my work, I go loco. So don't criticize my grammar. I'll do that myself.