“Upon my soul, I do fear I would,” Said Curval, as he did I know not what to Adelaide that brought a loud scream from her lips.

“And who the devil do you think you are dealing with ?” Curval demanded of his daughter. “What are these chirpings and squalling all about? Remember the company you are in. Can’t you see that the Duc’s trying to talk to me of burning, provoking, instilling good manners into hatched , and what are you, pray tell me, but a little something hatched out of my balls ? Duclos, I say, continue, if you please,” Carval added, “For I have the feeling this ’s tears might make me discharge. And I’d perfer not to.”
 

 Carly Lovevine sighed and shut the book, no matter how many times she reads Marquis De Sade, those same bubbles boil in the pits of her stomach, slithering up to . She closes her eyes and rubs her temples, wondering as to why she spends her time inside her library instead in bed with her husband. Carly winced—having moved her leg slightly so they were parted, she could clearly see as well as feel bruise’s in the shape of hands, turning into an ugly mixture of blue and purple. She groaned, leaning her back against her old, wooden chair. She would surly feel that tomorrow morning if not by night.

Still with her head back, her eyes turned into slits and looked at the closed double doors to her right. The library was a present from her husband’s mother, knowing that Carly likes to read, she bought her shelves and shelves chuckled full of books. Most held no interests to Carly, for all of them told the same story. The damsel in distress, the wicked men who’s somehow a prince saves her and they live happily ever after.  Only happily ever after includes being a canvas to multiple scars and lacerations; but nobody tells that part, do they?

“Honey?”

A grumbling voice broke through her peaceful daze, as she answered back just has grumble, “Yes?”

“Don’t speak in that tone with me,” the double doors opened to revile a man, much older then twenty-eight year old Carly herself. He has black hair slicked upward and into spikes; he wore no shirt, which showed his non-existing abs however she could see a curved “s” line. He had long, tight fitted white slacks with polished black shoes.

“Don’t speak in that tone with me!”

“It’s morning darling, you know how I hate waking up in the cold without you.” he stalked closer to her, Carly swallowed and unconsciously gripped the arms of the chair. He gripped her chin with rough fingers, nails poking dangerously underneath her chin, close to  her veins.

She took a pause, “I wanted some fresh air,” she bluntly lied, fully well knowing he could tell she was lying through her teeth, but it didn’t matter to her. She hated him, she utterly despised his every worth.  He narrowed her eyes, pulled her head up and tilted it to the right side, before swinging his arm back and striking her across the face. Carly never once let up her glare, even when her head swunged and she tasted the cooper filling inside . In fact it only carved deeper, so much that her nails left scratches upon the fine, golden brown wood.

"Why isn't breakfast served?" He asked, as if nothing had happened, as if Carly--his own wife he sworn to love and protect was not just stricken across the face.

"The maids are preparing  it," she spit out, smirking in satisfactory when her blood stained his black shoes. Her husband sneered, gripped her tightly by the hair, twisting it between his fingers and harshly pulled her up and off the chair. "The ?" His mouth right next to her ear, "Did you forget your place?"

"No, I just don't give a damn," she answered simply, picking invisible dirt under her finger nails. Now anyone who would sneak a peek at the situation would assume Carly was crazy. Either: one for bluntly disrespecting her husband;  or two--having her hair ripped nearly out of her roots, and her face sporting a red mark  soon turning into an ugly, misshaped blue color, and all she was doing was smiling crazily while picking her nails. It didn't matter to her, she was used to it, hell she learned a long time ago if she didn't care, he'll most of the time leave her alone.

He let go of her hair, not before swiftly sending a punch to her already bruised cheek, causing her to trample over onto her knees. Never once did her glare lessen, nor did she rub her bruises--no never, she would never ever give him the satisfaction, she had too much pride. And he knew it too. With a sharp turn of the heel, he stomped out.
   Carly Lovevine is an aristocrat, born under the Lovevine family, nortorisly known for being Marie Antoinette friends, or “lackeys” as Carly would call them. Carly had read diaries by her grand parents and great grand parents of how they would lounge in the royal garden, laughing their troubles away as the poor starved. She was read how much they hated Marie, for Marie never failed to state the fact that she was queen, though holding smiles and biting tongues, they showed their grace to Marie. Carly? Hell she barely shows her grace to Queen Victoria. That woman is like Marie Antoinette, everybody dry, except for the rich. Though she had to pity the Queen, her husband died shortly a while ago and she went just a tad bit crazy; though don’t they always?

  Being an aristocrat, Carly was already engaged long before she was born, as if her parents were already expecting a girl, Carly would of smirked if she would have been born a boy “Carl.” At least then she wont be stuck here. She was to be married to Gackt (Such a strange name she thought) Camui. The name sounded more Asian, then again “Carly” was more American then anything, so what right did she have to judge? Other then laugh insanely. Carly was only thirteen when she wed, having to feel this old man--a twenty year old--shoving his tongue down , feeling his fingers claw at her sides sent her to a frenzy. She screeched and yelled during the ceremony, brought shame upon her family, and she must admit--she must of looked like a fool flinging her arms around like an idiot while wearing a wedding dress. Though hell, she’ll be damned if she went down without a fight.

  Now at twenty-eight, fifteen years being with the same abusive man had left her bitter and dry. Carly picked herself up, sighing, running her fingers through her hair. She had spent all morning perfecting her make-up matching her skin perfectly so the bruises wont show, holding her hair in the correct position where it would cover markings from the bed when she would take off her dress. Now, she had to hall herself back to the bathroom, and do it all over again.

  As she walked, her eyes went to the golden brand around her ring finger, she lightly traced the designs engraved with sliver, smiling sadly how utterly pathetic she felt, bound to this by a simple, golden ring.
 

   “It seems there’s another one Mr. Lee.”

 Mutilation laid out in all her glory, not only skin was shown but orangs plastered around sidewalks, streets and all.  “Mr. Lee” crouched down, taking out his magnifying glass, sighing as he stared into a dead girls eyes--it was a different girl, but to him it all seemed the same. “Liver gone,  s cut, eyes gauged, fingers torn.”

 “The queen wont be please,” His partner sighed, writing down what he saw onto a note-pad.

“I know Mr. Kim.” Mr. Lee stood up, dusting off the magnifying class, “where is the corner? The body needs to moved.”

“Taemin,” Mr. Kim placed his hand on Mr.Lee or ‘taemin’s ‘shoulder, raising an eyebrow, “we can’t just leave her.”

Taemin glared, roughly shaking off the hand, “Why do I care? It’s just another e”

“It’s a dead person, a woman.”

“Woman are only good for one thing Kibum,” Taemin sneered, turning around, “Call the corner, get that body away from the publics eyes.”

“Yeah, yeah, and it’s Key!” The man snapped, only to fall upon deaf ears.

Taemin groaned as he made his way down the alley, they had been too rough, and he was the cause of it. Although, could he really blame himself? He is Lee Taemin, the gorgeous number one detective, how could anyone resist him? Though, now he had messes to clean up and sweep under the covers. Making a sharp turn near a gate, he walked down in a straight line, then turned a right and came to another gate.  This gate was ragged, old, rusted, barely holding up. He snapped it open, the gate screeched, fell down with a loud ping.

“Well someone’s pissed,” Chuckling came out of the shadows, Taemin rolled his eyes stepping further in, the shadows shrouding him, for that’s how he felt; like a shadow. The alley was narrow, with absolutely no light at all, you know where to go through experience, Taemin once spent a whole month lost, once he reached the gate his body was already slowly starting to eat itself away. Though with that experience, he knew this place as the back of his hand.

“Don’t you have some deasise to obtain?”

“Don’t you?”

Taemin stopped, turned to look in the direction where the voice came from, “No I don’t, go back to .” With that he went off on his way, the man crossed his arms, grumbling curses under his breath.

“Hmm someone’s pissed, did you hear that?” Jewell flicking  the girl underneath her turning it a bit red.  Jewell had finished her thirst for the day, now she was at her oasis.

“Meh, like I really care,” The girl--Jessica underneath sneaked her fingers through Jewell’s hair, noticing how tangled it is.

“Girls!” Taemin shouted, narrowing his eyes at the people around him; they all knew who he was angry at. “Not now,” He said when he felt an arm sneak around his waist, and up his chest, close to his .

The girl pouted, and nuzzled his back, “But it’s been so long.”

“So damn long?” He whipped around, causing her to wobble and wiggle before she gained her balance, “Do you know what you did?” He hissed, “you and your little posse.”  

“What?” Reneey shrugged, as if she didn’t know.

“You almost got caught.”

“But we didn’t.”

“You. Almost. Did.” He went into his pocket, taking out a small pin, carved into it was the invitational’s R. U

“O that’s where that went,” She muttered, looking down.

Taemin glared, throwing the pin at her--

“what’s he ing about now?” Jewell had gotten off of Jessica, now both were walking towards the scene.

“O I guess he saw our work?” Jessica grinned, her breath hinting the stench of blood.

“You could of done a cleaner job, what made this so different?” Taemin gently rubbed Reneey’s head, she smirked and nipped at his neck. Taemin in his breath, tugged at her hair as a warning.

“I liked her hair--she’s a red head, I like red heads,” Jessica shrugged, picking her gums with her nails.  

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she kept a whole underground zoo of the people she likes,” Ruki chuckled, pulling her to his chest, “You’re not wearing a shirt.” He mumbled into her ear.


“Well no , someone ing ripped it off,” Jessica nipped into Ruki’s cheek, leaving a pinkish mark upon dirty skin.

“Can’t help it, it was in the way,” Jewell pushed away from the couple, frowning, “you’re teeth are going to get rotten--or more so that way.”

Taemin sighed, pushing Reneey away, “Just be careful next time, you’re already getting a name.”

“Why do you care if we get caught?” Jewell snapped, narrowing her eyes, “honestly you come here to us es that you hate so much and then stalk out there as if you didn’t ed us.”

Taemin shrugged, turning his heal to walk back, not before looking back;

“Like you said, we’re like broken pieces glued into a vase, an ugly magnificent vase.”

“Well you too.”