A Fragile Life

Authors Note: this is my first story on this site and I'd love to get some feedback on it. Hate it? Love it? Let me know either way! I'm not sure if I want to continue, and reviews keep me going!



“P-Please just... just let me go, fuck please, I just want to go home. Please I wont tell anyone, just untie me and... fuck please, please!”

“I’m afraid that’s really not an option Elle.”


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But I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? Coming into the story right in the middle of it all. I suppose I should backtrack a little, take you back, all the way to when this whole thing started.


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Considering how fast things went wrong, the day had started out pretty normally for Elle. As usual, she’d slept through her alarm’s incessant buzzing and woken up late. The rest of the morning was a race to get to work on time. Toothbrush clenched between her teeth as she rummaged through her underwear drawer, she pulled out and discarded panties, bras and thongs before she found what she wanted, a plain pair of black boy short panties and a matching bra. She carried these back with her to the bathroom, spitting her toothbrush and toothpaste into the basin as she stepped into the panties and latched the clasp of her bra. She swiped a line of black eyeliner across the top lid of her eyes and ran her fingers through the messy strands of her long chestnut hair. Shit brown, she privately thought of it, though if her mother was still alive to hear it, she’d die all over again.

This thought stopped her in her tracks, and she shut her eyes and took a deep breath as a pang of sadness washed through her curvy body. ‘Buck it up, it’s been three months,’ she reprimanded herself as she forced herself to keep moving. Grabbing a pair of black tights that only had three runs in them, she tugged them on and slipped a long, red and black tartan men’s shirt that hung down to her knees. Cinching it at the waist with a thick black belt, Elle toed on a pair of black ballet flats and grabbed her messenger bag as she hurried out the room.

A quick hello to her flatmate and a banana in hand, and Elle was out the door, only running five minutes late. She didn’t stop to eat the banana until she was sitting safely on the bus on her way to work, taking the time to savour it, it’d likely be the only food she got until closing. Elle was the only assistant at a vintage book store run by her beloved old boss, Edgar. Edgar had opened ‘A Fragile Thought’ a few years ago, and had hired Elle on about eight months ago, just after she’d lost her job at the tattoo parlour. Or had it been the waitressing job? She never stayed in one place for too long, but she was hoping the bookstore job was the one that was going to stick. It was honestly one of her favourite places to be in the world, the angles of the store seeming completely random, slanting off into tiny corners and high peeks, steps that led to nowhere and little secret hiding holes hidden away from the rest of the world. It was like a wonderland for book lovers. Unfortunately, Edgar was getting on in years now and so it was left to Elle to do most of the day to day running of the store. The bookshop took in a good trade, and Elle spent most of her day rummaging around the deep catacombs and crannies or climbing up into the attic with the regulars to look through even more boxes of dusty books donated by well meaning families or cynical sons selling off their dead grandparent’s possessions.

Stepping off the bus with a quick ‘thank you!’ to the driver, Elle walked the two blocks to the store, fishing the keys to the place out of the pocket of her shirt dress. Unlocking it and switching on the flickering light, Elle flopped down on one of the plump, stuffed chairs and took a breath for herself for the first time that morning. She knew she should be setting up the cash register and cleaning up the books that had wandered astray, but even while she was telling herself this she was pulling out a hand mirror to check her appearance. It was the same as ever, wide-set charcoal eyes, the naked, full lips, and single freckle that sat high on her cheek and that no one but her ever noticed. And Elle knew that if the mirror was big enough she’d see reflected there a curvy body, not fat, but more solid than today’s fashion magazines dictated was suitable.

She’d never be classically beautiful, she was sure of that. All through high school the ‘popular’ kids had made sure she knew that she would never be one of them, one of the beautiful kids. No, they made sure she knew that she’d always be a freak, one of the art kids that dressed in thrift store clothes and wasn’t invited to their awesome house parties. But she was out of high school now, she reminded herself, she was twenty one, and she was perfectly happy with her life. Sighing she stood, and got to her work.
‘As usual, this is as good as it gets.’ She grimly reflected as she tucked a book away in its appropriate shelf.

The day went as normal, customers coming in asking for book orders, children eager for story time, each shouting out their own ideas for what books they wanted to hear today, parents milling like cattle, anxious but relieved to have a moment for themselves. It was at about three that he walked through the doors. They were in the middle of a lull, and Elle was in the back of the store, supposedly restocking the shelves with a shipment of books that had just come in. Edgar had for once let her be in charge of the music that played through subtly hidden speakers throughout the store, and so she was ignoring the dusty box of books by her feet and dancing to one of her favourite songs, ‘Let Go’, by her the band Frou Frou when she heard a clearing of a deep manly voice. She stopped stock still, her face turning a bright tomato red at the thought of being caught dancing by any of her regulars. Turning, she stumbled over the box at her feet and would have fallen if not for the strong arms that snapped out lightening fast and caught her around the waist. The arms lifted her upright again and Elle was about to thank them, and the person attached to them, when her breath caught in her throat.

He was fucking scary, was her first thought. And beautiful, was her second. Taller than her, so he must have been at least 6ft, the man had the kind of coffee coloured tan that you only got from spending many hours out in a hot sun somewhere. He stared down at her with intensely, ice blue eyes that were almost translucent they were so pale. A myriad of tattoos wrapped around strongly muscled arms, the man was seriously built. He was like a solid wall of muscle, though not in that over obvious body builder way. His hair was cut short, close to the head in what was almost a buzz cut and he radiated a scary sense of power, not just from the fact that his neatly pressed clothes that seemed so at odds with his rugged face were obviously expensive. A pair of black dress slacks and a plain white t-shirt that fit him in the way that only quality fabric could. No, it was the nose that had obviously been broken once before and a tiny scar that licked at his bottom lip that really did it. This is a man you don’t fuck with, they said. Her mother had always told her when she was young and had fallen and hurt herself somehow that scars weren’t evidence of your weakness, but evidence of your strength.

Realizing she’d been staring, Elle’s face flamed up once more to a bright shiny red.

“Umm, thanks, oh man that was embarrassing. C-Can I help you?” She blurted out her words, mentally cursing the stutter that only ever seemed to rear its ugly head when she was nervous.

“Yes. I’m looking for something.” His voice was deep, and his words were unrushed as if he had all the time in the world. He did, but there was no way that Elle could have possibly known that yet.

“Maybe... some sort of book? We’ve got a lot of those in here. It’s a bookshop. So... we’ve... got books. Mostly books.”

‘Oh god. Word vomit. Why do I even talk? Of course it’s a bookshop. Maybe I should solve some other mysteries for him like that the sky is blue.’

“Yes, I see that. No, I’m not looking for a book. I think I might have found what I’m after though.”

“Oh, umm, are you sure you don’t want books? ‘Cause... we’ve got books.”

“No, I’m afraid books aren’t what I’m looking for at all. I’ll be seeing you soon Elle.”

With that he gave her a grim little smile that was more a baring of teeth than anything else and turned and walked out of the store.

“Well that was weird.” She muttered to herself as she once more turned to shelving the books lying at her feet, not really registering that he’d called her by name, even though she hadn’t told him it.

Finally the clock hit 5pm and Elle packed up her things to go home. Edgar was still working, counting up the days earnings to put in the vault, and Elle gave him a fond kiss on the cheek as she set off towards home. It was a Friday, so Elle knew that by the time she got home her flatmate Casey would have the bottle of vodka chilling in the freezer already for them before they went out. Casey was more than a flatmate really, she was her best friend. Their parents had met in prenatal classes and had become fast friends, so Elle and Casey had known each other since birth. Literally, they were born within a week of each other. Casey came first and she liked to joke that it’d set the standard for the rest of their lives, Casey was always in a hurry to be the first to do something, while Elle was happy to take her own sweet time.

They were complete opposites really, Casey was outgoing and just a little bit flighty where Elle was more subdued and stubborn. Casey had always been the more popular one, her big blue eyes and curly blonde hair seeming to draw people, especially boys, to her. She loved to sing, while drawing was Elle’s passion. But even so, they’d still managed to stay best friends and they’d always done everything together, from the innocent; their first birthday party, their first day of school, to the not so innocent; the first time they got drunk, their first piercings (Casey got her nose, Elle got her belly button).

“Lucy, I’m home!” Elle shouted over the loud thrashing of punk music. No one ever guessed to look at her, but Casey loved all things punk. The Sex Pistols, The Vandels and The Pukes were among her favourite bands, and she played them all the time when she was at home. They weren’t exactly to Elle’s taste, but she didn’t care really.

“Hey Missy! I’ve got drinks!”

Casey danced into the room carrying two large glasses full of what Elle was pretty sure would be some very generous vodka and tonics. Elle took one as Casey danced away from her and took a sip, coughing slightly as the vodka burned its way down her throat.

“Casey, remember, it’s a vodka and tonic, not a vodka or tonic.”

She’d always called Elle ‘missy’, for as long as Elle could remember. Neither of them remembered why anymore, but she’d been doing it for so long it was like second nature now. Dumping her bag on the tattered couch, Elle made her way to the kitchen and pulled out three of the many containers of Chinese food that made up the bulk of the fridge’s contents. Two forks, three vodka and tonics and an hour later, and Casey threw her fork across the room.

“Okay, I’m done. Come on, get your ass up, we’re going out. But first! You are getting changed missy.”

“What? No... I just want to stay home tonight. Family guy’s on and I made a complete ass of myself in front of this guy at work today and I just want to watch TV and be lazy.”

“You met a guy!?”

“No, I made a complete ass of myself in front of a guy, and I so don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine, but you are coming out tonight missy whether you like it or not. And I am playing dress up Elle. You always dress like you hate your body. But not tonight. Tonight we are getting you laid.”

She may have been a bit flaky, but when Casey got an idea into her head to do something, she did it. Elle weighed up her options. She could either listen to Casey’s nagging for an hour or two before she finally gave in and let her do what she wanted, or she could just give in gracefully now.

“Fine. But I hate you.”

“I think I can deal with that. Now... come this way.”


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“There is no way I am wearing this out. I look like a complete slut.”

Elle frowned as she looked at herself in the mirror. Casey had dressed herself up in a ruffled little white nothing of a skirt that sat low on her hips and barely reached to halfway down her thighs, and a singlet top that did something to her breasts that was making them look like puppies squirming to get out.

“No you look great! No boy is going to be able to take their eyes off you.”

“Yeah, they’ll all be taking bets on when the twins finally break free from my shirt.”

“Okay, the shirt is maybe a little bit much. But you’re wearing the skirt. You’ve got great legs and you always hide them underneath those awful mans shirts you wear. If you want to wear a dress, lets go out and buy you a dress, until then, stop pretending you’re a lumberjack.”

Casey put her finger to her lips, chewing on her nails as she decided what to put her in to replace the shirt. Finally inspiration hit. She practically ran over to her closet and pulled a grey singlet top off the hanger. Elle shrugged and pulled it on over her head, having already removed the offensive top she had been wearing. It was pretty much the same as before except it had a slightly higher neckline and was just that little bit looser. Casey gave her nod of approval and then sent Elle off to go get some shoes from her room while she herself got changed.

By 11pm they’d made it to the first stop of the night, the club where Casey’s boyfriend worked. He was the DJ and so they made a beeline for the dance floor, waiting for their song to come on. They knew that he’d spotted their arrival because he’d waved while they were depositing their bags at the coat check. He played a few more songs, wordless trance beats that anyone could grind to, and then finally their song came on. Casey and Elle always made Shaun (the boyfriend) play them Dirrty by Christina Aguilera when they were at his club, both of them loving to dance to it even though they’d never admit it to anyone else. They started dancing with abandon, shaking their hips and grinding against each other, all the while making silly faces and trying not to laugh. After it had ended, Elle shouted that she was going to get a drink. Casey nodded her head and kept dancing while Elle made her way through the crowd over to the bar. She had just finished paying for her vodka and red bull and had turned around to rest against it while she surveyed the dance floor below when a man came up to her.

“So, honey, how do you like your eggs in the morning?” Oh god, she could see where this was going. Everything from his obnoxious Hawaiian shirt to his slicked back hair screamed out ‘Creep!’. Rolling her eyes she turned to him and geastured for him to come closer. When he was practically pressed against her, Elle leaned forward and whispered in his ear.

“Unfertilized.”

With that Elle pulled away, turning and focusing her attention once more on the throbbing crowd of dancers below, dismissing him.

“Oh come on now honey, don’t be like that. Let me buy you a drink.”

“I already have a drink.”

To emphasise her point she took a large sip from the straw, still not looking at him. He continued to pester her with questions which she largely ignored, staring intently at the crowd and focusing on finishing her drink as fast as she could so that she could get back to Casey. Just as she was about to snap and scream something inappropriate like ‘I need an adult!’ like she’d been taught to in primary school when faced with a creep, Elle felt an arm slip over her shoulder.

“Sorry I’m late Angel. Hey thanks for keeping my girl company while she waited for me.”

The creep stuttered his apologies and backed away. The authoritarian voice was familiar and had made his warning clear. When Elle turned to see who her saviour was she realised why it sounded so familiar.

It was the man from the bookstore.