Today hurts, that's the only way to describe it. My eyes ache, I'm sweating like a motherfucker and my stomach is churning. Basically it's like the worst hangover ever. I try to sit up, but that is way too much effort. So I just lie there and moa. Looking around I'm pretty sure I'm in Brittany's room. The bed shifts and suddenly Brittany is leaning over me. What the fuck, how did I not notice her there, oh she's speaking guess I should see what's she is doing here, other than creeping me the fuck out with her intense staring.
"Hey babe, what do you remember about yesterday? "
Babe? Shit. Clearly I'm missing something important.
"um... I... We... Picnic?"
"yup, that was lunch. Do you remember anything after that?"
Fuck off given this hangover (it has to be a hangover, huge amounts of piss is the only explanation for Brittany and I in this single bed together) I'm proud to know my name right now. Shit, I just zoned out and now she is looking at me all weird. "Quinn? You ok? After yesterday there will be ... Problems. So, ah, tell me if you are feeling, I don't know. Off I guess"
"Problems, you mean like Santana murdering me for sleeping with her girlfriend?"
"Ex"
When I look back, that is the word that marks the end of my neat life.
I remember. I remember Brittany calling me. I remember her tears on the phone asking, begging more like for me to meet her at the park.
Yesterday
I'm sitting there at a crappy wooden table. In a crappy park, next to a crappy little playground in the middle of a crappy field. Brittany is late and guess what? I'm in a crappy mood. Mum is drinking already today and it isn't even noon yet. I look at the table it's covered in obscene graffiti and I'm considering adding to it if Brittany doesn't show soon. I've decided on Finn sux balls and I'm thinking it'll go pretty well next to the engraved cock. Just as I find a pen I hear a noise. It's a quiet rumble that quickly turns into a roar as a single motocross bike rocks up. Normally these guys travel in packs for the extra attention. I'm apprehensive as it stops next to my table and the rider kills the engine. They pull off the helmet and shake out long blonde hair.
" Holy shit! Brittany?"
What the fuck is she doing in control of a motor vehicle, I mean as much I like her she is a bit too simple for me to feel comfortable letting her near machinery.
"Hey Quinn," she says after leaning her bike against the table, " thanks so much for meeting me on short notice. I didn't have anyone else to turn to."
"What about Santana?" surely she would go to her girlfriend with any problems. Santana has gotten so much more supportive since she came out. Shit she is even there for Kurt and Rachel's problems. Shit. Yep, I can see the tears forming in her eyes even as she says it.
"She dumped me, she said something about how there was no way she could trust me after."
"After what Brit?"
"After, after," her shoulders slumped, "After I abused her trust by never letting her know me."
What? I'm confused Brit is sweet and simple, she would never deceive Santana. I'm clearly missing a vital point of this story but I open my arms and hug her motocross gear and all. She sobs into my shoulder and we stand there awhile in the quiet park.
Finally she stops. "Anyway, I came to you cos you are the best person I know at just ignoring and denying shit, and for today at least I just don't wanna deal."
"Um ok."
"So I bring sandwiches, and then after I thought maybe I could teach you to ride my bike."
"sandwiches yes, bike hell to the fucking NO."
There is no way I'm letting a simpleton get me on a death trap, I watched Xgames with Puck when I lived at his house. Travis Pastrana dislocated his spine on that shit. Fuck that. And what was that about me being queen of denial? I'm about to rip into her when I see the tears she is just holding back.
"I'll think about the bike after the picnic ok?"
She smiles shakily, "PB and J ok?"
"Sounds good"
She pulls off her armour and untucked the top, catching a pair of cling wrapped sandwiches before they hit the ground. Awesome, looks like squashed stomach sweat sammies for lunch.
The sandwiches are long gone and we have gotten bored watching clouds. She is looking at the bike, but I have doubts. Big ones.
"Hey Brit, don't you need a license for that?"
"Nope, it's off road recreational. Besides I have a full for car, bike and heavy vehicle."
I'm confused as to how, because as far as I knew she wasn't allowed behind the wheel of anything. Something of my confusion must have showed on my face because she elaborated. "Look it's a long story, I'll tell you sometime but, Santana found my license and that's where the questions started"
Her lip quivers and she looks down, I don't push it.
"So, bike?"
Fuck. I'm stuck now.
"sure"
It took about an hour but I got the hang of it. I'm now zooming about the kiddie park at a solid 10mph. She is right this is the shit. I look back at her and she waves back. I'm glad her helmet fit but it seems to limit my vision a bit.
I decide to show off a bit and cut closer to the playground. Shit there is an old bit of concrete foundation hidden the grass. I panic and go for the front brakes smashing the accelerated in my panic. I hit the lump at considerably more than 10mph and fly forward off the bike and into the base
of the side. There is searing pain, then nothing.
Present
Brittany is still there just watching me. Her blue eyes staring straight into mine watching me process the day before. I rip the blanket up. I realize two things at once, the first being all I'm wearing is briefs, briefs that are stained with blood down the side. Above that side is the second thing that caught my attention. Stitches. A fuckton of stitches. Brittany gets up and grabs a t shirt from her drawers while I'm still shitting it about my side. Being pretty much naked in my best friends' ex's bed is small potatoes next to the 100+ stitches running in a jagged spider web from armpit to hip. She pulls off the cover and passes me the t shirt. I vaguely register it as a school PE top before she says
"We need to have a little chat."
This time when I try to sit up I can. It is insane pain but somehow I know it should be more. As the blanket slips to sit at my waist I see four equally spaced puncture marks in a squared about a half inch wide under my left breast.
"Fuck, the last thing I remember is coming off. Why am I not in hospital, does my mum know where I am, what happened to me? How many stitches is that?"
I look at Brittany, she seems calm. How the fuck is she calm? I take a deep breath to start asking more questions and her eyes flick down before she looks at the wall.
" if you put that shirt on I can start trying to answer your questions."
Once I struggle through that Herculean task I clear my throat to indicate she can look back. After that first outburst I'm freaking out. If I got stitches I went to hospital , I'm 17 so mum would have had to sign me out for the discharge so why am I here. Here being half naked in Brittany's bed. I look at her and see that she at least has pjs on.
"The first thing I need to say is sorry, I never meant for any of this to happen. I'm going to make this as easy as I can for you, but I won't lie there is no way it's gonna be easy."
"What..."
"Quinn, this is gonna take a while and it would be good for you to just listen. Ok. So I guess the start would be my lie to Santana."
As she says this she sits back at on the bed facing me but not really looking at me. I nod for her to continue because if I want answers clearly I have to do this her way.
"I'm smart, like insanely smart. Haven't you ever wondered why I've never been held back? I guess being blonde helped ah, distract people from that but really, it should be obvious something is up. Recently I started being as stupid as possible but even then, Santana just supported me and everyone else just mocked me. In reality I had a high school level by the time I was 7, college by 11 and I'm about a year or so off my pHd in genetic modification. The point I'm going for here is that when I saw you dying,"
"There is no fucking way I was dying, I have stitches and a headache!"
She shakes her head " You were dying Quinn, your skull had a dent, your ribs were split like a ripped fence and I had to push your digestive system back into the hole in your side. Grossest thing ever by the way. But, we are friends, you gave up your plans to help when you didn't know what was wrong, you have always been there for me. I panicked I'd forced you onto that bike. I didn't want you dying because of me. So I saved you."
"Saved me how?" it's official Brittany is insane. It is the only possible explanation, well that or I'm high as fuck tripping on hospital grade pain killers.
"I um, fixed your ribs and stitched your side up. Then maybe sort of ..." she trails off and looks at the ground.
"Sort of what, Brittany?" I'm starting to get the feeling this isn't a poor taste practical joke. Shit she is still staring at the floor, "what the fuck did you do?" I start hyper ventilating, I'm working my way to a full blown panic when she looks up startled at my condition. She moves quickly, pushes me onto my back, leans over me and starts kissing me. She pushes her tongue into my mouth owning the kiss. With her hands running through my hair, her breasts pushed into mine I forget my side and her crazy story. If I'm being totally honest in that moment I couldn't tell you my name. It is the single most intense moment of my life.
She pulls back and looks at me. It's weird, I have never thought of her or any chick that way, but I'm less freaked out than I think I should be.
"Sorry, I just can't afford for you to panic. It was the easiest way to distract you. But just please don't freak out." my panic is starting to rise again, but I'm not ready to be taken advantage of again so I squash it. She is watching me closely now. But really it now seems so surreal that I don't think I'm gonna freak again.
"I sort of maybe injected you with the experimental FXS8 that I am basing my pHd off. My pHd that is being funded by a military science program."
"I don't get it"
"Um we, and by we I mean the research program I've been working with to develop 1-8, we have been working to make super soldiers."
WTF? "Super soldiers...?"
"You know smarter, harder, faster, stronger?" I must still look confused because she sighs, "Basically better. But the problem is it is all totally experimental."
"So... Now what?" now I'm feeling ill, I can tell from the way she has been looking at me there must be more to this.
"Well, we have to keep it hidden because we are years away from human trial. But also the problem is we don't know any of the effects for sure, we predict that most subjects are most likely to suffer heightened aggression and sex drive. That's good in a soldier, but gonna be terrible for you. The kicker is though, the news laws that are gonna be written about this shit, they are gonna classify altered people as ah, subhuman."
Fuck, yesterday I was head cheerleader today I am fucking subhuman. Fuck.
"You will be ok, but it's going to be a few changes in your life, biggest one being your gonna live here now."
"what?" I like my house, my mum let me move back in, it's strained but still.
"And will really kick in."
"Woah, slow down you can't control my life like this." I don't like this I want to pinch myself to wake myself up, this has to be fucking bullshit. I start to hyperventilate again. This time Brittany isn't quick enough and I start to seize and thrash. For the second time in two days my world goes black.
I open my eyes, I don't recognise this room. It's warm and white, the only lighting is a commercial fluorescent fitting directly above the bed. Bed might be an exaggeration as its more like an operating table. I go to roll over and realize I'm strapped down to it. There is straps over my ankles, wrists, a large one over my hips and an additional one on my right upper arm to keep it still. It seems to be to prevent me jerking the drip out of my arm.
I hear a noise to my right and look over, turns out the room I'm in is split in two by a set of bars, sort of like the drunk tank. The noise is on the other side of the bars. It's Brittany at a computer, I can't make out what's on the screen she is working on, the secondary one has Facebook up. She turns around "And right on time, fuck I'm good at this game," she grins " there has been some changes, as I'm sure you have noticed." she waves indicating the cell and bed I'm in. "Welcome to your new room. You live here now. Your life belongs to me."
"What!" I scream and thrash. The straps give a bit but hold for now. She trying to look sorry but I'm not buying it. "You have been in an induced coma for a month. In that time you got classified as subhuman, I got clearance to own you and got custody off your mum due to my unique position of being able to watch you at school and sedate or restrain you at need. If you were wondering your mums gone to Florida or some shit."
That's it. Words can't describe my anger at this. I tense everything and just move. The straps rip and I'm reaching through the bars trying to grab her. Don't know what I'm going to do once I have her but I can tell you it'll fucking hurt.
She is now leaning against the bench completely calm. There is no way I can reach her and we both know it. I sit down on the now fucked bed, my world is fucked. I finger one of the straps that I snapped like cotton thread. It's a half inch thick. "I don't understand how this happened, I had it all. I was happy and healthy and lived at home and"
Brit cuts across me with "And now you are not even a person," she gives me a sad smile, "the sooner you come to terms with the new restrictions of your life, the sooner you can get over it and rejoin society."
I turn away and lie back down on the bed facing the wall.
"I'll be back later, I guess that's enough for now." she leaves, turning the lights off as she goes. I shut my eyes and pretend I'm anywhere else. I fall asleep thinking of sunny days on the football pitch cheering with Santana.
I wake up and sigh, not a shit dream, I am still lying on a bed in a cell. I give a mental shrug at least I'm alive, I could be dead, or in a wheelchair, or a vegetable. But instead I'm lying on a shitty bed in what appears to be Brittany's basement. I remember my side and rub the skin under the t shirt. I can feel the scars. But no stitches. I'm bored. And if Brittany is to be believed I've been sleeping for a month solid anyway. With that thought I get up and swing my legs off the bed, without the adrenaline pumping I'm a little shaky standing but I can deal. With my hands in front of me I stagger to the bars.
"Brittany," I call, "I'm ready to talk now." I repeat myself louder and louder until I hear a noise outside the door. I sit back on the bed and wait for her to open the door. The light goes back on before the door opens. Weird. The door opens slowly and I can see a tazer in Brit's hand as she comes back in. She shrugs sheepishly, "just making sure you weren't waiting under the desk"
"Brit those inch thick steel bars are a wee bit of a deterrent don't you think?"
"I have no fucking idea anymore."
Oh. As I process this information she sits and watches me. "Can I tell you my plan for not fucking up your life anymore than we can help?"
"sure."
"well you missed the last few weeks of school, so we have a few months to sort this out. Basically everyone at school was told you're in a medically induced coma. You don't need to talk to them 'til you go back. And with enough exercise and a weekly drip to halt the effects of the serum."
"so..."
"Basically, you will live in my basement for the next year or so. Gonna get no privacy because there is a camera in here, but hey could be worse. Once we get you stabilised, no mood swings and figure out any side effects we can turn the cameras off. Maybe even decorate in here. By the time school starts again you should be close enough to normal for things to be ok." she pauses, she wavers, then she breaks. Her shoulders slump forward as she leans back against the door. Her body starts shaking so she hugs herself trying to suck it up. "I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry. " I pause because I hadn't thought of the guilt she had been carrying. She is full out bawling right now and even through my anger and fear I don't feel right just watching. I walk forward and stick my arms through the bars. "Come here, I won't bite," she looks up with a weird mix of relief and fear on her face. I can sort of guess what she is thinking but to be honest my life was fucked before. I can't say happy about my new situation but at least I'm alive. She seems to care, and fuck she can't be a worse care giver than an absentee alcoholic.
I sigh because she hasn't moved towards me, she has just sort of fallen on the ground and is crying harder in foetal position. "look I promise not to murder you. Just come over here and get a hug so I don't have to break these bars to shut you up," I grab the bars and pretend to pull, "nope these seem solid, you will have to come here for a hug."
She surprises me when she unlocks the cage steps in and shuts the door.
"Seriously how don't you hate me?"
"Well to be totally honest this situation is so fucked I can't totally believe it's happening. And you know I feel bad watching you cry, it does screwy things to my insides."
TBC