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#Post#: 2925--------------------------------------------------
Run To You
DIR By: Maggie Flannery
Date: May 22, 2014, 12:30 am
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After lord knows how long the muse has struck. This is the
result of a rather steamy dream I awoke from this morning not
sure how long this one's going to be but Jackie's gunning for
this one. ;D *Warning for hints at spousal abuse and the death
of that jerk Frank Flannery* P.S. Borrowing your Maggie/Frank
plot line from Whistles the Wind a bit, I hope you don't mind.
I've also paired off Lottie with Terry. Couldn't help myself
there. They'd make an adorable couple I think.
HTML https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5558/14054910987_6c171b9a92.jpg
HTML https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2939/14054884727_364a139622_n.jpg
HTML https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5314/14055825958_8a9215b14b_n.jpg
Theme:
HTML https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gF5LaVkDhyk
Summary: Frank Flannery should have known that hell hath no fury
like a woman scorned. Especially when she's beaten on a regular
basis and sleeping with his brother.
Playlist :
HTML http://open.spotify.com/user/highlandfling22/playlist/4x0v1ipQ8E80f42gMhXJqb
Polyvore:
HTML http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/collection?id=3616405
Man did I have things plotted out, sorry for the overload but it
may help to visualize, I know it helped me plot things out.
#Post#: 2926--------------------------------------------------
Re: Run To You
DIR By: Wolfy
Date: May 22, 2014, 12:31 pm
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I am honoured you wanted to use that idea and I really do not
mind you using it at all! feel free to do with it as you please.
I can't really contain how excited I am for this piece. I just
have this massive smile on my face. Your banners are lovely and
the ladies' fashion, even more lovely. I love the couples'
homes, too. Now, your playlist is something to die for,
especially Bryan and Bruce; you can't beat that. Urgh.. I just..
everything about this, I love. I shall try to be as patient as I
possibly can, but I'm not promising anything ;)
#Post#: 2929--------------------------------------------------
Re: Run To You
DIR By: Maggie Flannery
Date: May 23, 2014, 2:28 am
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Oh thank you! I'm honored to have the privilege my dear. ;D I'm
so so happy you're excited! I've got to confess I had quite a
bit of fun coming up with their fashions and homes, almost a
little too much fun. I'm thrilled you like the play list, I've
been wanting to use Run To You and I'm On Fire as the basis for
a fic for ages now and it just seemed to click. I do have to
apologize for the graphic nature of the the first bit. The
steamier bits will come later, I promise! I'm so sorry this is
so short.
Mini Theme for this bit
HTML http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p5psCjIKw-Y
June Bay Terrace, Staten Island NY
The day started like any other. It was the start of the summer
and weather was absolutely beautiful, bright blue sky with
cotton like clouds and a warm breeze that just ruffled the
curtains in the living room. I dreaded perfect days like these
because they seemed to be a harbinger of pain, of bruises, and
strangled screams. Always my own. The more I'd beg him to stop
the harder he'd hit until he tired himself out and sank down
onto the sofa; crying into his balled up fists that were almost
always covered in my blood.
“Why'd you make me do it, Maggie? Why? If you'd just listen to
me, give me the respect I deserve I wouldn't have to do it.”
Frank would always say as he got up and looked at me as I lay
too dazed and punch drunk to move. Beautiful days always meant
I'd be seeing the world in a fog of misty red. I'd become a
professional at covering up the damage he'd done to me. Gone
were the days of short sleeves and bright colors. Now I shrouded
myself in beige, gray, and black. Long sleeves and scarves were
a savior for me as were sunglasses and heavy pancake makeup. If
someone did happen to notice a bruise or a swollen lip I played
it off as a trip or a fall.
“You know how she is. Always the first day with new legs, right,
hun?”
Frank would ask as he looked me with cold steely blue gray eyes.
Daring me to blurt out the truth and see where it got me. My
responses were automatic, almost robotic. After five years of
being utterly terrified of what the man I called my husband
could do I had no choice but to agree. No one dared disagree
with Frank Flannery. On the outside he looked like a well to do
business man, not an uncommon site here in New York. But like
everything else in the life I shared with him it was a front,
much like the gentle kisses he placed on my cheek when we had
company or were invited out with his “business associates” and
their wives. He was always Frankie to them, to family, but never
to me. To me he was and would always be Frank. Frank was not
only feared at home he was the terror of the Five Boroughs. Half
of the money that he deposited into our bank account was made by
either breaking someone's knees, removing an appendage or limb,
or his personal favorite; beating them to a bloody pulp before
splattering their brains where they stood. Although, Frank never
did get his hands dirty when it came to his work; he saved that
all for me. 'Giving me my medicine' he called it, and like a
pathetic excuse for a human being I took it. You see, when
you're married to the head of one of the largest organized crime
rings on the Eastern Seaboard there's nowhere for you to run. I
checked the clock on the wall, he'd be coming home any minute.
The knot in the pit of my stomach tightened and my heart was
hammering in a wild rhythm. I heard his car pull into the
driveway the gravel making a sickening crunching sound much like
my ribs had the last time he'd kicked me, must have been six
months ago. The keys jangling along as he slid them into his
pocket. Frozen in fear I sat on the settee too terrified to
move. Next came the sing song voice as he baited me out. That
saccharine sound I'd once fallen for when we were dating;
thinking he truly loved me. He was out in the foyer now, leafing
through the mail that was on the hall table by the stairs.
“Maggie baby come on out. I'm sorry about this morning, I just
woke up on the wrong side of the bed, hun.”
If I went to him I'd still get the beating, if I stayed it would
be worse. So, I went to him, shaking like a leaf tears welling
up in my eyes like they always did. I'd never wanted this, this
wasn't how people, especially married people were supposed to
treat one another. I saw him reach for me and flinched. Wrong
thing to do, especially today of all days. He spoke to me like I
was an untrained dog or an ill behaved child instead of his
wife.
“Stop it. Stop it right now, Maggie.”
His lips met mine and I fought back the urge to gag, making a
horrid sound in the back of my throat. He had that look in his
eye, that gleaming cold gaze that I'd come to recognize.
“One more chance to make nice or you'll have to get an extra
dose of your medicine.”
He whispered in my ear his voice like a cold October wind.
You'd think I would have learned how to “take my medicine.” What
with five years of practice but I never quite got the hang of
it. I looked at him with wide eyes as I backed away toward the
living room I'd just come from. My voice sounded strange even to
my own ears, more pathetic than usual, full of pleading that
fell on uncaring ears even when I used his long held nickname.
“Please, Frankie...please...don't.”
That was all it took. Two agonizing hours later I was sprawled
out in the corner of the living room by the fire place in a pool
of my own blood gasping for breath almost certain he'd punctured
a lung.
“Get up, you're bleeding on the carpet.”
Frank's voice came somewhere above me, I wasn't sure where my
head was still swimming from the lack of oxygen and twin shiners
I'd been gifted with for screaming too loud and Frank pulled me
around by the roots of my hair.
“Get. Up.”
My mind swam as I lay there totally dazed as Frank said
something about going upstairs to change. Oddly enough the voice
I heard in my head this time was my mother's.
Oh I envy you, Maggie. I really do. Frankie treats you like a
queen. See, I told you you'd be happier with a man five years
older.
Those were my Mother's exact words to me on my wedding day,
words she would choke on if she really knew what was going on
behind closed doors of the palace like structure I called home.
In a hazy flash I remembered an old PSA statistic from when I
was still in high school.
Every 9 seconds in the US a woman is assaulted or beaten by
their spouse or partner. Domestic abuse knows no color, creed,
or social class.
Don't you ever let a man break you, Maggie. Ever. Don't let him
break you...break you...break you.
My Father's voice commanded from deep within. Repeating louder
and louder until all I could make out what the last part.
Too late, Dad. He already broke me. I'm a statistic. A damn
statistic. Who'd a thunk it? Margaret O'Brien-Flannery was a
damn statistic.
I thought to myself as I got up on legs that felt like Jell-O. I
grabbed a tissue from the box on the side table and leaned
myself against the archway that separated the foyer from the
living room dabbing at my now furiously bleeding nose. I heard
the phone ring and Frank's foot steps coming down the stairs. He
leaned over the banister and answered.
“Flannery residence. Yes..yes. I'll be there.”
His voice dropped and he muttered something about telling
whoever it was on the other end to never call the home line. He
hung up, grabbed his keys and looked at me, challenging me to
say or do anything.
I knew where he was going and I didn't care. Better her than me,
in our five years together our time in the marriage bed was
brief and solely for his pleasure only never mine and it was
almost always against my will. I sometimes wondered if he liked
to watch her struggle as much as he enjoyed watching me, no men
like him treat their mistresses like queens while their wives
get treated like dogs.
“Don't wait up.”
With that I was left in the silent house with just the ticking
of the clock. I climbed the stairs and wobbled down the hall on
uneasy legs. My stomach clenching and unclenching as a red hot
heat burned through my core. My stomach rolled and then flopped.
I drew myself a hot bath and stripped out of my bloodied
clothes and tried to scrub myself clean of today's events. I sat
there in the now tepid water with my knees up to my chest and
sobbed. Sobbed for everything that had happened in the past five
years and everything that would come. I'd successfully cried
myself out as I got out of the now freezing water and toweled
myself off before wrapping myself in the silk robe I'd laid out
on the foot of the bed and resolved to make a change. Frank
Flannery was going to die.
#Post#: 2930--------------------------------------------------
Re: Run To You
DIR By: Wolfy
Date: May 23, 2014, 6:44 am
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No words for this first update.. urgh, I hate so much hatred for
Frank right now. You've written him well and I do still believe
he was that kind of man on some level, in the film. Might not
have appeared that way and the director might not have wanted it
that way, but with him being heartless enough to murder his
brother.. you know. I really do loathe him, a lot. Even more so
now with this fic; the last line is something I will be
repeating until he finally gets what he deserves. This is
wonderful — can't wait to see what happens next!
#Post#: 2931--------------------------------------------------
Re: Run To You
DIR By: Maggie Flannery
Date: May 24, 2014, 3:05 am
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Ahh! I'm over the moon that you enjoyed the first update! I
actually had a conversation with my mother about Frankie after
she finally watched the film and I can remember her saying "Well
if he can kill family you can bet he beats his wife." That
really stuck with me and I tried to make him as cold hearted as
possible. I couldn't agree more with you, I think the director
wanted to down play the fact that Frank truly was a monster
among men. To be quite honest it took me years to actually watch
another film that had Ed Harris in it, poor guy, I. Just
couldn't get over my red hot hatred for Frank.
#Post#: 2942--------------------------------------------------
Re: Run To You
DIR By: Maggie Flannery
Date: May 26, 2014, 5:04 am
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*A/N* In light of the sad and horrific things that occurred in
the shooting at the University of Santa Barbara I'm putting this
fic on hold for a bit. I beg forgiveness but this story was
going/ will contain flashbacks of further abuse and I don't
think I'm ready to write that at the moment.
#Post#: 2943--------------------------------------------------
Re: Run To You
DIR By: Wolfy
Date: May 27, 2014, 9:42 am
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Please, don't ever feel as though you have to apologise for
these things.
I understand completely and can wait patiently until you're
ready to start it up again; take your time.
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