Lost and its characters belong to JJ Abrams, Bad Robot and Crew. Just borrowing to clear my head a little. Just what was going through Kate's mind on that porch?
Lost – Implosion
By MysticDecember 6th 2005
It's the sound of a few random sparks kissing the air, the meeting, the combustion, the flame. It's the sound Kate has hated for as long as she can remember. It's her first memory of him. She was four, maybe five, and her father had just left her mother. He'd gone off to some faraway place and Wayne had moved right in.
She remembered the feel of his hot sweaty hand on her head. "Cute kid," he'd said softly before taking her mother by the hand and dragging her into the bedroom. Kate had pigtails then. Long and unruly and they lay silent on her shoulders as the bed creaked for hours. It was the first time she'd heard her mother scream. A long, hoarse howl that made her jump up from the hard spot she'd found on the floor to sit in.
It was the sound just before the clap of his hand on her mother's flesh before he stepped out of the room and glared down at her as she froze, her hand pressed tight on the railing of the stairs. He gave her that look – the one that made her skin crawl – and he winked at her, pushing his lighter into the back left pocket of his unbuckled pants.
It was the sound of her first real report card. She raced home from school, told Tom she'd meet him by the pond in an hour, and her heavy boots knocked on the wooden stairs that lead up to the porch. The screen door creaked as she yanked it open, a smile with two missing front teeth ready for her mother who wasn't home. He'd asked her why she was so wound up.
Straight A's. No one else in her class had straight A's. They all ate paste and pulled people's hair and knocked over the paint. But Katie managed to behave, managed to pay attention. The phone was in her grasp, but he slammed it down. No calls to daddy, he'd told her, and he ripped the paper from her hand where it was neatly folded. He huffed at it, staring down at her and flicked open his lighter.
It's the sound of her first black eye. She expected it on a school yard, or at the bottom of a tree fall. Instead she lay at the feet of the stairs at dusk with her cold hand pressed against her face. Wayne stared down at her and she pulled her legs together on instinct. He looked at her different now that she'd started to develop. There was something dark in his eyes that made her insides shake and her head go dizzy.
Why you ain't been home yet? He posed the question two seconds before popping her. His knuckles like concrete against her face. Inside she heard Patsy Cline's smooth voice emanating from somewhere upstairs, where her mother would be getting ready for a late shift at the diner. Kate would be alone with Wayne all night again. She'd listen to him stomp around the house, snapping open a beer every half hour or so and he'd pull out that lighter, a cigarette already pressed tight between his lips.
It was the sound of hiding. He came for her every few days, when the beer and his mind got mixed up too much and he forgot she wasn't her mother. She hid under her bed and watched his feet pass her bedroom door and she'd inhale. Her lungs would fill with fire as he passed and called out for her again. He called her Katherine, just like her mother did. He just wanted to say goodnight.
She knew what goodnight meant. She'd seen him say goodnight to her mother night after night after night. It was heavy moaning and hands gripping too tight on her buttocks and her back shoved up against a closet door, the knob bruising her spine. It meant screaming. Kate knew goodnight all too well and she didn't come out until she heard him light that fire and drive off into the fog that surrounded the farm.
It was the sound of her virginity washing away. The one night he caught her. The only night he caught her. The night she didn't dare think about ever again. The night she'd deny to anyone who asked. The night she put on a deep purple dress, let her hair down and called Tom on the phone to let him know she was on her way and she'd meet him there. The headlights invaded her house just as she pulled open the front door and he came stumbling up the steps.
What're you doin' here, girl? She looked away from the lust and she could already see him undoing the notch on his belt. He caught her by the wrist and he told her she was beautiful. His beautiful little girl. Kate pulled away, but he was stronger than she was. When it was over, she put on a new set of panties and went off to the prom, an hour late and flustered red. She didn't tell Tom; he never had a clue.
It was the sound of a lie. Sharp and loud and neverending. Kate stared at the photograph in her hands unable to breathe. Her father stood with a few other soldiers and the date on the back was too late. Too late to be her father. Kate felt her insides go cold as she understood. The photo floated back onto the bed with the other photos and she looked up at the curtains she'd made, lopsided and yellow.
She took out the insurance policy. She graduated from college. She married and divorced. Kate went back home and sat on the porch for an hour. Her mother was working; her father out drinking. She pulled the gas connection loose and let the aroma fill the air a little as she went through the house and remembered him everywhere. Every inch of it was covered with Wayne. Every inch of her was covered with Wayne.
It was the sound of the lighter in her hand as she flicked it open and watched the flame burst out. That little snap, that harsh sizzle, that bright whoosh. Happy Birthday Katie, she blew it out. The metal top popped open again in her hands. He'll be gone soon. She pulled her finger roughly over the metal rings. You're making a mistake, Kate. His truck pulled up and she stood, watching him stumble drunk towards her.
She helped him into the house, making sure he had that damned lighter in the left back pocket and those cigarettes in the right. He dropped into bed and she pulled off his boots. It was what she did when he was too drunk to chase her. He watched her and she felt goose bumps rise on her skin. You're beautiful. She bit down on her tongue and pulled away from his grasp, her stomach turning at the memories. It was what he told her over and over and over as he pressed her into the couch.
It was the sound of running. The motorcycle hummed between her legs and something about it excited her. But her heart wasn't there. She looked back up at the house a moment. Its old windows and sad doors and cracking paint. Remembered her father picking her up for the summer. Remembered Fourth of July from the back yard. Remembered burying her time capsule with Tom by the old Oak beside her. It would take him at least thirty seconds to smoke. Kate remembered that too.
She heard the explosion behind her just as she felt the implosion within her. It burned and clawed at her eyes. The flames tore through that house, erasing it and Wayne's fingerprints from the world, but she knew deep inside, she'd never erase him from her.
Finis