Young and Beautiful
Posted: Sun Nov 18, 2018 7:50 am
((Mirabella Strong continued from Blown off Course))
What little remained of Bella's composure had rapidly ebbed away as she fled from the clubhouse. Thick pockets of roots had torn though her sneakers as she'd run, leaving them in utter tatters, and sharpened twigs and shrubbery had ruined her socks, pockmarking them with holes and plastering dry mud over her legs. Her sweater and skirt had taken damage too, dirt and tears peppered all over her clothing. Her barrettes had fallen away as she'd run, the only one remaining miraculously pinning back her bangs. Her blouse had survived the brunt of the damage, but had managed to become stained with sweat and lose a button or two along the way. Scratches and bruises marred her pale skin, resultant of tripping one time too many in the harsh environment, and her face had become perpetually flustered, tears and heat mixing together to leave her face a glistening red.
She didn't know how far she'd ran, or for how long. Adrenaline and fear had driven her there, fear of what'd happen to her, to Ian and to everybody else. She hadn't wanted to leave him, not when he'd helped her so much so far, but if she'd stayed she didn't know she'd have done next, she really didn't.
She didn't want to hurt them.
The rational part of her mind insisted that was just her anxieties speaking, that there was no way she could've hurt him of Juhan or Takeshi, but her anxieties insisted that she would've hurt them, that she would've destroyed everything they'd built so far. And their voices were steadily getting louder and louder. And they were right, weren't they? She'd fucked everything up so far - what was there to stop her from doing it again? In fact, losing her medication made that even more concrete; she was sure of it. Megan had excused what'd happened - blamed herself for Aria's theft, and for the girls in the tower, and for Francis... but that was just her taking on Bella's own issues, own problems.
Own mistakes.
Eventually she came to a halt, resting against the brickwork that flanked one of the enclosed alleys of the southern town, as the stitch she'd been refusing to acknowledge tore through her insides. She slowly slumped down beside it, her bags slipping limply from her arms and landing with a soft thump on the concrete beside her, any lingering energy sapped from her being. Birds of all sorts whirled above her, their cries blasting through her ears in unison with the thumping in her chest and her ragged breathing.
Everything was so loud.
She lifted her hands to her head and pressed them against her ears, blunted fingernails digging into her scalp as she attempted to repress the noises that spun all around her, eyes clenched tightly shut. She sat like that for awhile, trying to ignore the whirlwind of thoughts that raced through her mind and retain some semblance of rational thought. Time passed - it might've been three minutes or three hours, she couldn't tell - and she eventually opened her eyes again, hands dropping limply into her lap.
Any movement she made felt so very difficult, as though she were made entirely of lead. She hadn't eaten or drunken for what seemed like forever, though her last meal couldn't have been that long ago. The past few hours were nothing but a hazy fog in her memory, and though she tried her hardest to remember everything that'd happened thus far, her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp pain in her stomach. No, she had to eat. Just a swig of water and a bite of one of those bars, that was all she needed. Then she could get up and find her Garrett and her medicine. It all seemed so simple, so optimistic. Bella shook her head as her hand slowly slid from her lap and towards her bags. Optimism wouldn't help her. It'd caused her nothing but pain so far.
Her hand grasped around the handle of her bag, dragging it roughly across the ground, leaving a trail of debris in its wake. A look of confusion marred her face, until she saw what'd happened. The seam had split, spilling the bag's contents over the concrete. Her breath caught in her throat and her teeth bared in frustration as she bent down, her fingers scrambling across the earth as they retrieved her belongings. She didn't want to risk anybody taking anything. It was all too precious. She didn't know what could come in useful, and with Aria having stolen her one means of defence she couldn't risk losing what might be a potential weapon.
And she needed as many forms of defence as possible.
Bella shoved her remaining belongings roughly back into her bag, before leaning back against the wall and trying to regulate her breathing. No, it wouldn't do to get panicked or angry. All the same, she couldn't help it. The barrier she'd maintained for so long, the one that'd prevented any negative emotion from coming forth, was gone, shattered into a million pieces.
She hoisted her bags onto her lap and hugged them close, rocking forwards slightly on the harsh ground as she sifted through it, attempting to locate her ration bars and water bottle. The first thing she pulled from it was neither; instead it was the compact mirror she kept on her person - she didn't use it much, but had always kept it with her just in case. She stared at the compact blankly for a second, almost returned it to her pack, but as she rested her head on her shoulder and rolled her fingertips around the edge, she couldn't resist opening it.
Although Bella cringed at her appearance, squinting as she surveyed the blemishes and marks that marred her face, she didn't pay them much mind. Instead, her eyes focused on her fringe, and what'd happened to it. She'd liked the way it framed her face and covered up her rather wide forehead, but it was admittedly rather inconvenient on occasion, especially if she didn't have anything to pin it back, like her headband or barrettes. She'd misplaced her headband back on the beach, and had lost her barrettes over the course of her run from the clubhouse, but she was sure she'd still had one left, one that'd managed to prevent her hair from outright blinding her. Her fingers traced through it, eyes widening as it fell down in front of her eyes. She must've lost that last one too, somehow, in the last few minutes or so. A gasp passed through her lips as she shakily stood up, eyes darting wildly over the area around her feet, desperately trying to locate it.
If it been there at all then it was gone, already invisible under a layer of dirt and dust.
Bella slumped back down to the ground, panic steadily building in her chest as ideas whirred within her head. She couldn't want her eyesight obstructed for any more than a second. If she couldn't see, then it was all the more likely that the killers could sneak up on her and stab her in the back. She had to get rid of it if she wanted any chance of getting out.
She dropped the compact onto the earth as her fingers snaked back into her back, emerging holding the first-aid kid she'd been provided with. They shook violently as they sifted through it, eventually withdrawing a small pair of scissors. It would be so simple, and then everything would be better. If she could just do this one thing, then everything would be better, at least for a little while. Part of her told her that there was a more logical way to deal with it, that she might find that missing barrette if she looked a bit more, or that she might still have something hidden away in her bag, but she ignored it. That would require just a little ounce of hope, hope that she'd tried to find - and though she'd found too many times - and she wasn't going to take that risk. A smile quirked at her lips as she levelled the scissors, delicately prying them open and encasing them around her fringe, her other hand lifting her hair in the air.
One cut was all it took; a violent slash through her hair, the blades slicing harshly and unevenly through the tangled mess as her fringe fell apart and fell into a small heap on her lap, the remaining hairs hanging limply in a haphazard diagonal line. She retrieved her mirror from the ground and flipped it open once more, a wide grin stretched across her face as she took in her new appearance. It looked terrible, but that didn't matter. She'd eliminated one threat to her life. It was a minor threat all the same, and part of her told her that she didn't need to do that, that it was just her hair and that it couldn't harm her, but that was the same part that told her to comfort Aria, to mouth off at Francis. Why the fuck should she trust it again, when it'd brought her nothing but pain?
She tossed her compact casually back into her pack and breathed in deeply. She hadn't noticed how fast her heart had been beating, or how much her hands were shaking. All of a sudden she became aware of where she was. This street was a dangerous place, far too exposed. Why had she lingered here for so long? She was so stupid. She hadn't been cautious enough, and she always used to be so cautious, scared of so many things. Her parents and her Garrett and everybody else had always told her that she didn't need to be scared, that everything would be fine, but they'd been wrong. They'd reassured her and calmed her down, and she'd finally let her guard down, left herself open to be hurt.
"Liars," she whispered as she stood up ungracefully, their faces flitting rapidly through her mind, their smiling reassuring lying faces. "You're all liars. Liars, liars, liars." Her voice increased in volume with each word, cracking as tears began to stream down her face once again. Her hands grasped around her bags, and a snarl formed across her face.
"Liars!"
She threw her bags across the length of the alleyway, their contents spilling out once more as they landed only a few feet away from her.
Mirabella Strong cupped her face in her hands and screamed.
What little remained of Bella's composure had rapidly ebbed away as she fled from the clubhouse. Thick pockets of roots had torn though her sneakers as she'd run, leaving them in utter tatters, and sharpened twigs and shrubbery had ruined her socks, pockmarking them with holes and plastering dry mud over her legs. Her sweater and skirt had taken damage too, dirt and tears peppered all over her clothing. Her barrettes had fallen away as she'd run, the only one remaining miraculously pinning back her bangs. Her blouse had survived the brunt of the damage, but had managed to become stained with sweat and lose a button or two along the way. Scratches and bruises marred her pale skin, resultant of tripping one time too many in the harsh environment, and her face had become perpetually flustered, tears and heat mixing together to leave her face a glistening red.
She didn't know how far she'd ran, or for how long. Adrenaline and fear had driven her there, fear of what'd happen to her, to Ian and to everybody else. She hadn't wanted to leave him, not when he'd helped her so much so far, but if she'd stayed she didn't know she'd have done next, she really didn't.
She didn't want to hurt them.
The rational part of her mind insisted that was just her anxieties speaking, that there was no way she could've hurt him of Juhan or Takeshi, but her anxieties insisted that she would've hurt them, that she would've destroyed everything they'd built so far. And their voices were steadily getting louder and louder. And they were right, weren't they? She'd fucked everything up so far - what was there to stop her from doing it again? In fact, losing her medication made that even more concrete; she was sure of it. Megan had excused what'd happened - blamed herself for Aria's theft, and for the girls in the tower, and for Francis... but that was just her taking on Bella's own issues, own problems.
Own mistakes.
Eventually she came to a halt, resting against the brickwork that flanked one of the enclosed alleys of the southern town, as the stitch she'd been refusing to acknowledge tore through her insides. She slowly slumped down beside it, her bags slipping limply from her arms and landing with a soft thump on the concrete beside her, any lingering energy sapped from her being. Birds of all sorts whirled above her, their cries blasting through her ears in unison with the thumping in her chest and her ragged breathing.
Everything was so loud.
She lifted her hands to her head and pressed them against her ears, blunted fingernails digging into her scalp as she attempted to repress the noises that spun all around her, eyes clenched tightly shut. She sat like that for awhile, trying to ignore the whirlwind of thoughts that raced through her mind and retain some semblance of rational thought. Time passed - it might've been three minutes or three hours, she couldn't tell - and she eventually opened her eyes again, hands dropping limply into her lap.
Any movement she made felt so very difficult, as though she were made entirely of lead. She hadn't eaten or drunken for what seemed like forever, though her last meal couldn't have been that long ago. The past few hours were nothing but a hazy fog in her memory, and though she tried her hardest to remember everything that'd happened thus far, her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp pain in her stomach. No, she had to eat. Just a swig of water and a bite of one of those bars, that was all she needed. Then she could get up and find her Garrett and her medicine. It all seemed so simple, so optimistic. Bella shook her head as her hand slowly slid from her lap and towards her bags. Optimism wouldn't help her. It'd caused her nothing but pain so far.
Her hand grasped around the handle of her bag, dragging it roughly across the ground, leaving a trail of debris in its wake. A look of confusion marred her face, until she saw what'd happened. The seam had split, spilling the bag's contents over the concrete. Her breath caught in her throat and her teeth bared in frustration as she bent down, her fingers scrambling across the earth as they retrieved her belongings. She didn't want to risk anybody taking anything. It was all too precious. She didn't know what could come in useful, and with Aria having stolen her one means of defence she couldn't risk losing what might be a potential weapon.
And she needed as many forms of defence as possible.
Bella shoved her remaining belongings roughly back into her bag, before leaning back against the wall and trying to regulate her breathing. No, it wouldn't do to get panicked or angry. All the same, she couldn't help it. The barrier she'd maintained for so long, the one that'd prevented any negative emotion from coming forth, was gone, shattered into a million pieces.
She hoisted her bags onto her lap and hugged them close, rocking forwards slightly on the harsh ground as she sifted through it, attempting to locate her ration bars and water bottle. The first thing she pulled from it was neither; instead it was the compact mirror she kept on her person - she didn't use it much, but had always kept it with her just in case. She stared at the compact blankly for a second, almost returned it to her pack, but as she rested her head on her shoulder and rolled her fingertips around the edge, she couldn't resist opening it.
Although Bella cringed at her appearance, squinting as she surveyed the blemishes and marks that marred her face, she didn't pay them much mind. Instead, her eyes focused on her fringe, and what'd happened to it. She'd liked the way it framed her face and covered up her rather wide forehead, but it was admittedly rather inconvenient on occasion, especially if she didn't have anything to pin it back, like her headband or barrettes. She'd misplaced her headband back on the beach, and had lost her barrettes over the course of her run from the clubhouse, but she was sure she'd still had one left, one that'd managed to prevent her hair from outright blinding her. Her fingers traced through it, eyes widening as it fell down in front of her eyes. She must've lost that last one too, somehow, in the last few minutes or so. A gasp passed through her lips as she shakily stood up, eyes darting wildly over the area around her feet, desperately trying to locate it.
If it been there at all then it was gone, already invisible under a layer of dirt and dust.
Bella slumped back down to the ground, panic steadily building in her chest as ideas whirred within her head. She couldn't want her eyesight obstructed for any more than a second. If she couldn't see, then it was all the more likely that the killers could sneak up on her and stab her in the back. She had to get rid of it if she wanted any chance of getting out.
She dropped the compact onto the earth as her fingers snaked back into her back, emerging holding the first-aid kid she'd been provided with. They shook violently as they sifted through it, eventually withdrawing a small pair of scissors. It would be so simple, and then everything would be better. If she could just do this one thing, then everything would be better, at least for a little while. Part of her told her that there was a more logical way to deal with it, that she might find that missing barrette if she looked a bit more, or that she might still have something hidden away in her bag, but she ignored it. That would require just a little ounce of hope, hope that she'd tried to find - and though she'd found too many times - and she wasn't going to take that risk. A smile quirked at her lips as she levelled the scissors, delicately prying them open and encasing them around her fringe, her other hand lifting her hair in the air.
One cut was all it took; a violent slash through her hair, the blades slicing harshly and unevenly through the tangled mess as her fringe fell apart and fell into a small heap on her lap, the remaining hairs hanging limply in a haphazard diagonal line. She retrieved her mirror from the ground and flipped it open once more, a wide grin stretched across her face as she took in her new appearance. It looked terrible, but that didn't matter. She'd eliminated one threat to her life. It was a minor threat all the same, and part of her told her that she didn't need to do that, that it was just her hair and that it couldn't harm her, but that was the same part that told her to comfort Aria, to mouth off at Francis. Why the fuck should she trust it again, when it'd brought her nothing but pain?
She tossed her compact casually back into her pack and breathed in deeply. She hadn't noticed how fast her heart had been beating, or how much her hands were shaking. All of a sudden she became aware of where she was. This street was a dangerous place, far too exposed. Why had she lingered here for so long? She was so stupid. She hadn't been cautious enough, and she always used to be so cautious, scared of so many things. Her parents and her Garrett and everybody else had always told her that she didn't need to be scared, that everything would be fine, but they'd been wrong. They'd reassured her and calmed her down, and she'd finally let her guard down, left herself open to be hurt.
"Liars," she whispered as she stood up ungracefully, their faces flitting rapidly through her mind, their smiling reassuring lying faces. "You're all liars. Liars, liars, liars." Her voice increased in volume with each word, cracking as tears began to stream down her face once again. Her hands grasped around her bags, and a snarl formed across her face.
"Liars!"
She threw her bags across the length of the alleyway, their contents spilling out once more as they landed only a few feet away from her.
Mirabella Strong cupped her face in her hands and screamed.