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by Faith Fanon on Thu Nov 21, 2013 3:46 pm
After the events of 'Scrubs' and 'Big Brother/Sea King Down': 7
After their argument, after the sudden change of mood, Laney was in foul humour when she went looking for Kiera. Ben had wanted her to take the test straight away but Laney, after reading the instruction leaflet, had insisted on waiting a couple of days. The later you were, the more accurate it was, she reasoned. Besides - and this was something she'd kept from Ben as she scowled at him - if she was pregnant, not knowing for one or two more days was a brief respite. She'd laid her old life to rest, and was beginning to find self-worth in her role as a Scav; being consigned to Haven and caring for herself and an unborn child meant the end of her contribution to the survival of what was now her home.
So she thumped Kiera's door a little harder than necessary, the temper she'd vowed to keep when confronting the American girl threatening to boil over already. Even so, it was a while until the door opened a crack, revealing one of Kiera's bleary eyes. Not pausing to wonder why she was asleep already, Laney pushed the door wider and leant on the jamb.
'Girl, we need to talk.'
Kiera blinked twice, and her eyes slowly focused.
'Don't come to me like that,' Laney said sharply. 'You got something to say to me?'
Kiera shook her head slowly, peering quizzically out from under heavy lashes. Laney breathed out heavily. The girl's refusal to engage with her was infuriating.
'I'm not playing this game. You kissed Ben.'
A look of recognition snapped across Kiera's face, and her brow creased. Her lip trembled a little; in fact, she looked hurt. Laney stared at her defiantly.
Finally Kiera responded: 'Oh, you mean when Ben kissed me?'
This time it was Laney's turn to be silent. Perhaps she'd been naive in expecting the American girl to simply crumble and apologise. Perhaps she was going to have to fight for Ben.
But then Laney rallied. She wasn't going to doubt what had happened between her and Ben, especially over the word of someone who'd thought they could have walked to Edinburgh. It occurred to Laney, perhaps Kiera wasn't all there. She wouldn't be the first person damaged mentally by the end of the world. With society so disodered, maybe she just had no sense of boundaries any more. That was no reason, though, to go easier on her, Laney reasoned as she glowered back at Kiera's inplaccable expression. In fact, she should probably keep her guard up around the American girl.
Narrowing her eyes, she leant forward. Used to being a couple of inches taller than most women, Laney found her temper frayed even further by the fact that Kiera matched her for height. Nonetheless, she was confident she would come out on top if it came to a fight. Her muscles tensed involuntarily and her pulse quickened.
'Ben is mine,' she muttered between clenched teeth. 'I don't blame you, having a go, but he is mine.'
Kiera was fighting to stay mentally present; her thoughts crawled by as Laney stared her down.
Somewhere inside Kiera felt angry and hurt, but for now those emotions were smothered and locked away. She actually felt like hugging Laney and petting the woman’s hair while telling her everything would be alright, though common sense ultimately dissuaded her.
'I don’t blame you for wanting to think the best of Ben and the worst of me,' she replied eventually. 'Trust is a terrible thing to lose. Anyone would cling it, no matter what the truth might actually be. I would draw my own conclusions before relying on blind faith.' Kiera watched with a neutral expression as Laney took in her words. The American's detatched monotone enraged her. She clenched a fist as if to strike her, then redirected her anger.
'Ya think? Well listen, Skimmed Milk. He is giving it to this' - she gestured to herself, from head to toe and back, tossing her hair - 'two times a night. He does not need' - she pushed a sharp finger into Kiera's sternum - 'this.' She pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow at Kiera. 'You get me?'
Laney turned on her heel, flicked her hair once more, and strutted away, adreneline coursing through her veins.
Ben looked up sullenly when she skipped back into their room. She fixed him with a wicked grin and straddled him, kissed him passionately and whispered: 'Sorry I'm such a moody cow.' Ben's resentment at their argument ebbed away.
Moments later, Laney yelped and swore as Ben peeled her tight jeans down her legs, ripping off the scab and dried blood from the shrapnel wound she'd suffered at the helicoptor crash site; she'd forgotten about it until now.
'Woah, woah, what happened?' cried Ben, springing back. 'Did you get that out on your mission?'
Images of Benson's leering, panting face closed in on Laney. Somehow he was dripping in the blood she knew an unseen marksman would soon spill. She covered her eyes to shut him out, to no avail; Benson loomed closer, blood rimming his teeth and gums. Laney buried her head in her arms, whispering 'No, no, no'. He was mumbling, mocking, indistinguishable. Flecks of bloodly spittle from Benson's heavy breathing splattered her cheeks. She was trembling, her heart felt like it would burst out of her chest.
Beside her, a voice gradually filtered through the static of her panic attack. It couldn't be Benson, she reasoned. The accent was different, the pitch was different. It was soft, almost pleading, rather than sneering and brutal.
'Laney, what the hell happened? Who did this to you?' Ben sat close, but wisely not close enough to crowd her. Concern filled his eyes; there was a glint, too, of the rage he'd struggled with in recent times.
She covered herself with a blanket. Damn, it was cold.
'I just need to sleep, Ben, I'm exhausted. Can you be close but not too close? Sorry.'
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