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[–]justamedicine 0 points1 point  (1 child)


The sample was interesting this is what I would do. I don't have time for the whole thing right now hopefully I can look at it later. This is just my opinion of what I would do. Please don't take it as you should change your story just read it this way and see what you think. Revision is a grueling process and I only took about 8 minutes so don't take me super seriously. I enjoy the first person. The male character needs more development. we should get more insight into what he's thinking here. how is this power affecting him in the moment? Is it exciting? Is it terrifying that he can't seem to control himself?

I slap her hard across the face and firmly grab her wrist again. She starts crying. Her mascara runs down her face mixing with her blush. She's a clown or a Picasso. Lowering my face to hers, I kiss her.

She struggles.

I dig my nails deep into the flesh on her wrists, twisting hard.

She gasps.

Driving my tongue against hers.

I pull back, still gripping her wrists.

Spit on her.

She’s trying to squirm out of my grip, but she is weak. Looking at me through puffy, red eyes, I can see anger and fear behind the tears.

She’s pathetic.

“You thought you could humiliate me?!" I yelled. "When I’m done with you, no boyfriend, imaginary or not, will want anything to do with you!”

I pin her fragile thighs under my knees and start ripping at her halter top. The scent from her body sends me reeling. I pull at her clothes with an animal rage, slapping her face. A piano piece plays over the theater speakers, and the lights dim to black. My knees are still crushing her thighs against the wet sheets. My hands are still tearing at her shirt.

“Get off of me!” Maria yells in the darkness, her voice cracking. It echoes throughout the theater. The audience murmurs in wonderment, they think it’s still a part of the show.

One of the tech guys comes rushing on stage and grabs my shoulders, wrenching me off of her. He ushers me off stage left where the rest of our crew are whispering to each other, staring at me from under the pool of blue light. He lets me go, and goes back through the flapping black velvet curtain. He appears seconds later with Maria, who is rubbing her wrists and turning them slowly in their sockets. They’re covered in bruises. She’s crying real tears. Under the harsh heat of the stage lights I must have gone delirious.

It was for the show. It was Garrett. I would never intentionally hurt her. I try to tell her this, that I didn’t know what came over me, but she puts a finger to my lips.

“Too far,” she says sharply, looking at me through a stream of tears, her eyes blood shot and puffy, her makeup running down her face like Patty Duke in The Valley of The Dolls. “Just let me finish the final scene, Dylan. Do not speak to me again.” (Do not speak to me again? How about "I don't want to fucking talk to you." Why would she even bring up talking? I think if you stopped at "too far" or even had her just look at him a little scared and walk away it'd make more of an impression. unless she's a tough cookie, in which case she'd be trying to play it off and this part needs more work)

She shoves my chest, forcing me to lose my footing, and I stumble back a few steps. She pushes past me, and storms through the darkness towards the blue lights of the green room doors. She has seven minutes to change before she goes back on stage through a spiraling depression and suicide. (Got confused here) This should fuel her performance.

[–]justlikezeus[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)


Thanks for taking the time! No need to explain your suggestions, and I do take you seriously; criticism is what I came for. I definitely agree with you about developing his character. It's been a few months since I touched the story so I feel like I have enough distance to do some rewrites now. Some very helpful questions too.