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A spark of panic hit me, thrusting into the agony and disturbing it enough for my disjointed thoughts to feel. I retched repeatedly, issuing the last plane meal and the rest of my stomach contents onto the patch of blood and broken teeth soaking into this foreign soil. I retched until my stomach muscles cramped with the pain, and still it continued, trying vainly to expel the hard cold metal bloating my straining mouth.They moved me again, clasping my septum bone with the hateful puncher. My hands were already under control enough to be flapping at the tube gag, their chain far too short for me to even touch my chin with these cold buzzing fingers, now they tried to move the punching tool. My legs were kicking with the same uselessness, and it was then that I saw the woman with the camera that was filming this whole horrible situation. My mind came together enough to realise how amusing my uncontrollable and pointless thrashing was to her before my vision was expunged by the closing. Normally she wouldn’t wear this, but the place was pretty strict when it came down to the way people dressed and this would do perfectly. After applying makeup and setting her hair the way she wanted it, she took a silver chain with a silver heart shaped locket on it and placed it around her neck. The locket never got opened because all that was in it was a bit of a crumpled rose petal from roses that she had sent him along time ago. For all of his flaws, she thought he was extremely sweet and extremely sentimental. Of course not being around on a time she had off lacked tact, that bastard. She entered the restaurant, telling the host whom she was waiting for, and went to the bar. ‘Yes, Miss Markem,’ the man said with a big grin on his face, ‘I’ve been told to bring you to the table she had reserved.’ Christina was lead through the restaurant to a table that was far enough away from the dance floor not to get distracted by people waltzing into your table, but close enough to the band.
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