Decathect

[Ruggahissy]

((Amaranta "Mara" Montalvo continued from There ain't no more cowboys, only men with violent hearts))

Mara flew into the lighthouse, threw the door open which slammed shut behind her, ran into a pantry cupboard and closed the door behind her.

She started hyperventilating, gasping for breath inside the dark of the pantry with just a thin beam of light coming through where the doors weren't quite shut. Her hand was balled up into her fists, shaking.

____________

Her hand was balled up into her fists, shaking.

"Go on ahead, I'll talk to her."

Her sister Rebeca took a fleeting look at her sister before being shepherded away by their mother into the restaurant.

It was just Mara and her father. Tiny Mara, age 7, shaking and biting her tongue and willing tears not to spill over. She'd gotten caught cheating on a weekly spelling test, it was her first time so she'd only gotten a chiding at school, but they'd called her parents. She'd been yelled at by her father during the car ride to the restaurant, but she knew he wouldn't yell at her in front of other people. He wouldn't, but only if she played along.

"Don't get caught next time," he said sternly, looking away. He looked back and she was obviously fighting to look calm. He noticed her curled up fists, nails digging into her palms.

He grabbed the face of the little girl and forced her to look up at him. She swallowed and her face was blank. He didn't want her to make him look bad.

"You bleed before you cry, Mara."

She smiled and he let her go. He took his daughter by the hand.

"If you aren't crying it means you aren't sad. Let's go inside, ozo."

____________

Inside the cupboard she felt her nails cut into the pad under her thumb. Her eyes were squeezed shut.

"You bleed before you cry," she whispered.

I'll never cry. I'll never cry. I'll never cry. I'll never cry.

She held her breath, trying to get her panicked gasps under control. She was silent for 40 seconds before letting it out. Mara felt a rush of light headedness.

Mara put a hand up to the door she'd locked herself into. Some person had shot and killed the guy she was talking to in the middle of his sentence. People were dying and no one had come to get them.

"What am I going to do? I....I don't know what to do," she breathed out.

Her influence and her money wouldn't do a thing for her here. The only thing on the horizon was some unspecified horrible thing to be experienced. Maybe no one was coming. Even if they were, would she survive to see them? Who could help her? No one. It was overwhelming. The uncertainty was worst of all. She would have to come out some time. She would have to and then she had no idea what she'd do. She felt nauseous, but she wouldn't cry.

What's going to happen to me?

[NotAFlyingToy]

((Hansel Williams, There ain't no more cowboys, only men with violent hearts.))

Red was the colour of his thoughts, coated in the gore and fluid that had exploded out of Daniel Whitten's head when Hansel's ironsights had centered on the boys temple, the jerking bang of a gunshot splitting the air. Red from anger and guilt, from pain and misery that had been choked in his throat as he had fled the scene of his crime, Daniel's items lining the inside of his bag, matching his own.

Red was his flag of desperation as he forced open the front door of the lighthouse, not paying attention to where he was going, what he was doing. All he felt was the stinging jerk of recoil on his shoulder, all he saw was a sudden snap of Daniel's head. His throat was tight as he stumbled into the darkened room, breathing quickly and shakily, staggering over to a display case as the duffel bag hit the ground with a thump and his gun fell towards the case with a clatter of metal and glass. His hands groped, gripping the case, vibrations overtaking his chest, his legs, his arms.

Following the duffel bag that slumped earthward, Hansel emptied the contents of his stomach. Like the moments after Daniel's body slumped to the ground, he felt nothing but numbness as the bile splashed against the floor, fleshy chunks jumping with the force of gravity. He let it ride out, let the emotion that had welled up like a corked bottle wash through him, out of him, onto the floor. He allowed himself this moment to break down, to revel and wallow in the self-loathing of what he did. He'd snatched a life, and Daniel hadn't deserved it.

Why hadn't he aimed higher, or to the side? Why hadn't he fired the shot into the air? Did the pressure, the knowledge that he had few friends and many enemies force him into action, placing the gun in such a careless position? Was it the doubt that had gnawed at him, the desperation feeding him to thin out the competition?

Did he purposefully kill Daniel Whitten?

When Hansel straightened, he felt as a wrung out cloth might; limp, sore, but determined. This was not a time for weakness. This was not a time for guilt, for anger, for doubt. It was a time when proving that you could - that you had - killed someone was something he could use. When his name arrived in the announcements the next morning, it would be remembered.

When another Tyler, or Theodore came knocking, they'd face a Hansel who had caused death, and they'd believe he would do it again.

He had a purpose, now. He had a name that would be feared, avoided. He had extra food, extra water.

All Hansel had to do now was wait it out.

Breathing out slowly, regaining his composure, he allowed himself five seconds of respite before he reached down towards the bile covered bag, unzipping it and taking out a bottle of water and two of the protein bars. Placing them on the display case for consumption before bed, he began roaming the room, scooping his rifle back up in search of something he could use as a weapon.

His footsteps took him closer to the pantry.

[Ruggahissy]

Mara looked through the crack in the doors as soon as she heard someone enter. She couldn't get a very good look at him. She covered her mouth and tracked him around the room. It looked like he had something like a gun with him. Maybe he was the one who'd shot that boy back on the bike trails.

Mara backed up against the pantry wall and a few baskets poked her. She turned back and looked in one. It contained lighthouse shot glasses. Another basket had little plastic anchors on them.

What kind of pantry is this?

She found another with sweatshirts and yet another with snow globes. It all looked like cheap touristy crap. It wasn't a pantry. It was a storage closet for gift shop items. She was in some kind of museum.

Mara swallowed and looked up. She was stuck in a museum or something. The thought of her being trapped as an exhibit flashed through her mind. In the meanwhile Hansel seemed to notice there was something off about the closet. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him come closer.

Mara stood up straight, back arched and chest out. He was going to open the door any second, she was sure. She bit her lip very hard to give it a bit of color. Behind her back her hand curled around a snow globe.

[NotAFlyingToy]

When he opened the cabinet door the rusty hinges let out a creak with the sudden taxation upon them. Hansel's brown eyes met the darker shade of the girl in the closet, Mara he recalled, as she thrust her chest at him like a woman being poked in the back by a poker.

Leaping back from the closet in a few staggering steps, Hansel fumbled with the rifle in his hand, managing to catch it around the barrel with his left hand while he grabbed a display case with his right, letting out a muttered "Jesus!"

The case jumped under his sudden weight, his hand shifting to his chest in an attempt to tame his racing heart. "F-f-fuck, you sc-c-cared the shi-hit out of me," he wheezed.

[Ruggahissy]

Hansel flung open the doors and there Mara stood, as if she was waiting for him. He jumped and she saw the gun in full. Mara ducked to the side, hiding partially behind one of the doors. She peaked around the corner when he stopped moving.

It seemed she scared him. "No, I didn't mean to frighten you," she said quietly.

Her right hand slid down the length of the door. She opened it a little and revealed half her body. Mara tucked a bit of hair behind her ear and bit the end of her finger.

"I was just hiding. I was scared."

Her eyes moved from Hansel to his weapon. She gripped the door and retreated a bit.

[NotAFlyingToy]

As Mara revealed herself, biting the tip of her finger, Hansel blinked, then looked down the length of his body. His boots were caked in moss and dirt, one sleeve of his shirt ripped cleanly off, revealing a tanned and wounded left arm. Adjusting his hat with his right hand, he offered Mara a brisk nod, immediately straightening his posture to a ramrod position.

"Ain't no worry," he said, dropping his voice an octave. "Plenty to be scared of 'round here."

He kept the gun in his left, eyes still warily on the darker skinned girl. He hadn't known Mara on any personal level, had just known of her. The bossy, smart student council woman hiding in a closet.

It caught him off guard, enough so that he took a step towards her, a frown curving his lips downward.

"You alright, ma'am? I ain't gonna hurt you."

[Ruggahissy]

He had a really gross looking arm wound. Mara was NOT going to be touching that. He was kind of gross looking in general, though under all the dirt and grime she supposed he was fine.

She emerged fully from her hiding spot and had to nearly crane her neck to talk to him. He was about nine inches taller than her.

"Hmm," she said as she nervously eyed her much taller companion. Mara wasn't wearing heels on the trip.... she was going to have to stand on an apple crate or something.

She kept her hands behind her back and smiled. Off to the side she noticed Hansel's bag. She looked back and forth between the bag and the gun.

"That's a relief. It's been a nightmare since I woke up here."

She reached out and took his hand. Mara looked up at Hansel with her deep, warm eyes and hugged the hand she had in her grasp close to her chest.

"I just don't know what to do!" she said in a wavering, anguished voice.

[NotAFlyingToy]

Hansel was a little taken aback by how small she was in relation to him, but then his hand was being held. Her fingers were colder than his, softer, the callouses on his fingers scratching against her darkened skin and his eyes were being looked into, and he felt a flush come over his face and neck.

He hoped the darkened room didn't give him away.

"Uhm," he managed, eloquently, as she beseeched him with her eyes. She had a lovely shade of eyes; dark and molten, almost like baker's chocolate. His cheeks burned brighter as he stood there, holding his gun in one hand and her hand in his other.

"Y-yeah," he murmured, fighting to keep the voice, the composure he had just built up shrouded around him like a cocoon. A cocoon that she had robbed pretty easily by just grabbing his hand.

He reached for something else to say, found his reserves empty, and so nodded at her quickly, twice, in rapid succession.

[Ruggahissy]

The only responses were "um" and "yeah." Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all.

"Exactly!" she said in response to his half-answers.

She leaned forward and rested her head on he chest. With her face hidden away, she smiled to herself.

Mara took the hand in hers, her long elegant fingers wrapping around and holding onto Hansel's hand. She pushed it up from chest to her neck, and took a step in to close the space between them.

"You're really chivalrous, right? Southern gentleman?"

Her one hand snaked around and up his shoulder. Her eyes jumped between points, taking in the boy for analysis. in that moment she was quiet, but intense.

"So you'd never hurt a lady in need. I know we don't know each other well..."

Her voice was unsteady. She was trying to sound comfortable, but there was still an undercurrent of fear.

In her left hand was still curled one of the snow globes. Mara suddenly stood on her toes, shooting her up a few inches, and kissed Hansel.

[NotAFlyingToy]

There were moments in life where Hansel wished he could just shut his brain off and enjoy, like driving with the windows down after a fight with his father, or feeling the silky coat of a cat that he knew he had to put down soon. Little moments that were filled with potential bursting pleasure, sullied by the race of rambling thoughts that clattered over his mind, drowning out the full absorption of the moment.

When Mara's lips pressed to his, her hand around his neck and his own larger limb sliding down her back in a caress, he recognized it as one of those moments. Despite the feel of Mara's bottom lip between his own, despite the strangely addicting feeling of her back sliding under his hand, and despite the hint of teeth he felt encased behind the softness of her skin, a nagging feeling remained.

She was scared, she was running. He was holding a gun in a museum in a lighthouse, darkened by the night and barely brightened by a waxing moon. He was holding a gun.

He had killed a man.

The bile reached forth, emanating from somewhere deep within him— that black rage he had felt when he fired desperate rounds into the vegetation at Theo's back, the darkness that had welled inside him as Tyler had charged, the strange feeling that had taken hold when his aim wavered between warning and lethal, Daniel Whitten in his sights. He had meant to warn him. He hadn't meant to murder him.

You could be wrong.

Hansel reared himself backwards, reaching with his hand on Mara's shoulder, pushing her back slightly to create distance. "Let's t-take a step b-b-ah-hack, here," he stammered, face flushed, eyes shining.

[Ruggahissy]

Hansel put some distance between them and asked to take a moment to slow down. For a moment Mara forgot about her fears and her worries that this could very well have been the person who shot Daniel right in front of her and might shoot her too.

They were kids again and she felt a bit of her pride bruise from the rejection. She was cute. Super cute! Certainly cute enough to pull one of these feminine wiles tricks they always have in spy movies and what not. Didn't he know what quality of girl she was back in normal society?

Mara frowned, grabbed a lighthouse lunch box out of the gift shop closet, threw it at Hansel's feet and then stood on top of it to bring her closer to being eye-to-eye.

She tugged down on the collar of her button-up, releasing the top three buttons, grabbed the back of Hansel's head, and kissed him deeply. After about 20 seconds she brought her left hand around, striking Hansel in the head with the snow globe. He went down and Mara hopped off the lunch box, nodding that that, was in fact, how a kiss was done.

....however, she then noticed the mess she'd made. Still, now she had someone else's food and water and if this was the shooter from before, he certainly wouldn't be shooting her today.

"Err.....huh. I better get out of here while I have the chance."

[NotAFlyingToy]

A single word went through Hansel's mind as he went crashing towards the floor of the lighthouse, and everything went black.

Bitch.

[decoy73]

((Mike Whaley continued from Last Days))

Mike looked up at the lighthouse. It seemed like a pretty good place to hang out for a while, and he desperately needed some relaxation. He was just about to buy that nobody was playing into this game - and then he saw Dan's body. The bleeding had stopped, but that may have been due to the fact there were at least four holes in Dan's body on top of the fact that somebody had removed Dan's fingers, so there just might be no more blood to bleed out.

So he made the short walk to the lighthouse without puking, and tapped the door quietly but firmly with his knuckle. Nothing. He then opened the door slowly and quietly. Nobody in here so far, which was good. It meant that nobody could kill him, and he could keep all his fingers attached to his hands.

[Ruggahissy]

Mara went to grab Hansel's bag. There was the issue of the gun still on the floor near him. She pondered a moment. If she went to grab it, would he pop up and grab her wrist like in a horror movie? She tilted her head and tried to conclude exactly how out Hansel was.

And then of course she heard the door creek open. Her eyes shut tightly, afraid of what might be behind her. She let out a deep breath and turns on her heels, pivoting gracefully.

Mara was met with an even taller boy this time. He was a strong boy and his frame seemed imposing, even with some distance between them.

He looked at him, then to Hansel and the mess on the floor.

"He tried to attack me," she blurted out.

If he had good intentions it'd gain her some sympathy and trust. If he had bad intentions, maybe he'd start with Hansel and give her a chance to get away. She took a cautious step back.

[decoy73]

And it turned out he was wrong - there was someone there. Two someones - one person lying on the ground, and someone else picking up the bag beside the figure. She turned around and paused for a second, as if surveying the scene or something.

"He tried to attack me." It was Mara. Again. At the very least, she seemed aware of the situation, but it led to one main question:

Is she trying to bullshit me?

While Mike did want to believe her, there were three things going against it - he hadn't seen anything, he was still shaken from seeing Dan's body, and there was Mara herself, who was not exactly the nicest girl going in. But still ...

"Okay. Let's calm down here. We'll move into another room and we can figure this out."