Hey guys. I know I haven't really updated any of my stories recently at all (I've been ridiculously busy the past few months) but I do promise that they're all still being worked on, especially "Flaws and Scars." I had this idea last night though, and I saw a lot of potential with it and I didn't want to lose the idea, so here we are. I'm actually pretty excited about this fic, so I hope you guys like the first chapter and see the same potential that I see! Please leave a review so I can know your thoughts on this, thanks all!
Disclaimer: I own pretty much nothing but the plot and a few additional characters :)
Her breathing was rapid and uneven, as was her heartbeat. Each time her foot made contact with concrete, she felt the sharp, merciless jab of pain in her abdomen. Her lungs were working at their fullest, and her legs seemed to be moving without her even having to think about it. Running was instinctual to her. She's spent her life running in more ways than one, and no matter where life seemed to take her, running -physically running- seemed to be inevitable. Sometimes it was out of fear, sometimes it was out of anger, sometimes it was out of sorrow, and only once had it been out of relief and out of love. Now, though, it was all but the latter. She was running, quite literally for her life. Running away was something she was good at, but avoiding trouble? That was another story. And now, all that she could hope for was to get out of the trouble that always managed to find her. Otherwise, she wouldn't survive for much longer.
She heard the car before she even needed to look over her shoulder. She was almost ready to jump out into the road -to wave down whatever vehicle it was that was headed her direction- but she stopped herself from doing so just in time. She knew that sound -the clanking metal- and as the car got even closer to the bend of the road, she could hear the music pouring out of the windows. She knew that song. It was the fourth song on the CD. She'd heard that disc too many times to count. She knew every word of every god-awful song, and she knew exactly why.
"Emotion heightens memory," her psychology professor had once told her during her independent study. If only he could see her now, on the run from the man that had terrorized her for god knows how long. He would be disappointed in the way her life had turned out, no doubt. Some time ago, she had been one of the greatest prospects in the class, and now she was living a life that showed no potential.
She turned, wide-eyed and nearly breathless, as she could see the shine of the headlights beginning to lighten the bend. She did the only thing that seemed reasonable and instantly dove to the ground on the side of the road. The heavy underbrush of the woods would -hopefully- come to her advantage. It was dark out, illuminated only by the dim light of the moon, and she knew that he was drunk off his ass. Maybe -if the universe was on her side- the foliage could provide her with enough cover that he wouldn't see her. She rolled farther away from the road, and when she could hear that the old pickup-truck was just about at the bend of the road, she chose to lie still, not even willing to breathe.
She kept her body pressed against the ground, and through the thin sheet of grass and leaves that barely shielded her from the road, she watched as the vehicle rounded the bend. One headlight lit up a little over half of the road, the other one having been broken since before she had even made his unwelcome acquaintance. Thanks to the shattered headlight, her hiding spot remained in the dark. She brought herself to glance into the windshield. He looked absolutely furious, blood dripping from the open gash on his head. His eyes darted toward the darker side of the road, practically right on her, but there was no hint of recognition in his eyes. No micro-expression to tell her that he had even acknowledged that something in her spot looked in any way suspicious. Relief, although only temporary, flooded over her as the truck continued down the road, but she didn't allow herself to move a single muscle until the sound of his music had disappeared entirely. She wasn't willing to even breathe until she was confident that he wasn't going to find her.
Her heart-rate was still rapid, beating twenty times faster than what was normal for her, and she looked around anxiously, as though there might be something in her surroundings that could come to some sort as benefit for her. There was nothing, though. She stood, wincing and letting out a pained hiss as the wound at her side rejected her plan to get up. She clenched her jaw as she pressed a hand against it, and a feeling of hopelessness set upon her as her fingers all too quickly were moist with the warm liquid that had seeped through her torn shirt. She wasn't sure how much more time she had anymore. She closed her eyes, willing herself to focus, to figure out where she was or what her chances of any kind of survival were.
The music. The fourth song on the CD had been playing, which meant that she had at least been running for fifteen minutes or so, probably even something closer to twenty. That meant that she'd probably covered a distance of two miles, maybe two-and-a-half at best, given her physical state. Sure, the adrenaline had certainly given her a boost in endurance and speed, but the deep gash near her abdomen definitely held her back more than she wanted to believe. She'd figured out ages ago, judging by the time that passed any time he'd left the house to go grocery shopping, that the nearest town probably wasn't any closer than five miles away. That gave her another three miles or so to travel on foot, and no matter how desperate she was to find help, she wasn't confident that she would be able to make it that far.
She let out a shaky breath, telling herself that she needed to find herself some sort of help and there was no other option, then began to run again. He would be coming back in no time, making his way back down the road. Knowing him, he would probably keep searching all night, and she knew that she wasn't going to get quite so lucky at hiding from him again. She could try running through the woods, sure, but she knew that she would only wind up getting lost or tripped up, neither of which would help her in any way. She needed to get to town, she needed to find some sort of civilization. There was no other option. She wasn't going to let it end this way.
She didn't know how much time had passed by the time she collapsed. It was like one minute she was running as fast as she could, and the next minute she was suddenly on the ground, gasping for air. God, she was lightheaded. The blood-loss, the running, the emotion, and her physical state accounted for her dizziness, but now it was almost like she was losing time. She couldn't really remember falling, and the world was practically a blur. She turned her head to the side, trying to suck in a deep breath, and everything seemed to move slowly. She brought a hand to her head, trying to calm herself down and to make herself more alert. It was like the times when she'd had too much to drink, or the times when he'd been frustrated enough to force pills down her throat, except this time it wasn't alcohol or drugs that were causing her disorientation. It was her injuries, her exhaustion, and her fear.
More time passed, but every minute seemed to merge together. She suddenly grew dimly aware of the light before her that started to grow brighter and brighter. She squinted at it as it seemed to get closer to her, confusion filling her senses. It took until the light stopped growing for her to focus on what was in front of her, and as soon as the realization hit her, she was panicking.
Headlights. It was headlights. She didn't bother to acknowledge the make of the vehicle or the fact that two lights were shining right on her. She was suddenly convinced that it was him, too disoriented to formulate any kind of logic, or even to consider that maybe it was someone else. She was too weak to stand, so instead, she just backed away as hurriedly as possible, pushing herself backwards with her hand and feet, her eyes wide and fearful as she stared right into the light.
A figure, dark due to the backlighting, appeared in front of those bright, accusing lights, and her breathing grew heavy. She didn't even have the common sense to recognize that the silhouette was too petite to be his. All she knew was that she was running away, and that he was looking for her, and that was enough to convince her that she wasn't safe in this moment.
"No, no, no," she breathed, terrified and lacking all logic. A soft voice seemed to echo in response, but she paid it no attention. "Please, don't," she begged, her voice both a whisper and a whimper.
That same soft, tentative voice bounced in her ears and she felt her panic rising as the figure came closer, just a foot or two away from her. She pleaded once more for him to leave, she even murmured an apology in the hopes that doing so would grant her some mercy, but the silhouette got even closer. The figure crouched down, then and she was practically hyperventilating as she braced herself for a punch, or a slap, or any other form of violence. Then, to her absolute confusion, she felt soft skin against both sides of her face, and she knew that something was wrong. Something wasn't what it seemed. The soft voice from before spoke once more, and somehow it calmed her down enough that she could break out, only slightly, from her fearful daze. It took her a few seconds, but she focused enough on the face in front of hers to recognize that it was that of a woman.
When she realized that it wasn't him, she snapped out of her confusion even more, and her breathing seemed to quicken once more as the adrenaline built up inside of her. Someone was there, someone had found her, but she wasn't safe yet. She needed to be off of that road before he came back, she needed help.
"Shh, shh, I'm not going to hurt you," the woman spoke, her voice gentle and concerned at the same time. "It's okay, it's okay, just breathe."
She made eye-contact with the woman, her shoulders rising and falling as she breathed heavily.
"Help," she rasped out. She shut her jaw tightly, closed her eyes for half a second, and then opened them again. She wasn't near as disoriented as she had been just moments ago, but she was still losing blood and she was still incredibly lightheaded. She also knew that he would likely be driving back down the road in no time, and if he were to see her there, he would undoubtedly kill the other woman, and even her, if it came down to it.
The woman snaked and arm under hers, apparently knowing instantly that she would be unable to stand on her own, and helped her up. She helped her to the car, then helped her into the passenger seat before quickly making her way to the driver's seat. She closed her eyes, attempting to calm herself down enough that she might actually stand a chance at survival, making no attempt to hear the soft voice that was once more speaking to her. She was too hurt, lightheaded, and panicked to listen to whatever was being said to her. Soon enough, though, the car was in motion, she recognized that the woman had said something about a hospital, and her fear died down slightly. The chances of him finding her were now much, much slimmer, and if luck was on her side, she might have even been given the ticket to survival.
"My name's Clarke," the woman spoke a moment later once she had calmed herself down enough to breathe more normally and to ease the dizziness. "I need you to try to stay awake for me, alright?"
Lexa turned her head tiredly to the side, blinking her eyes so that they were half-open. God, she was tired. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally, and now that she'd actually been given the chance to take some sort of rest, it was difficult for her even to keep her eyes open. She knew that the woman -Clarke- was right though. Even if the stranger wouldn't say it out right, Lexa knew exactly what the woman was thinking. Lexa's chances of survival would be much, much lower if she were to give into the overwhelming exhaustion.
She just nodded, her eyes resting on the woman. She had blonde hair that fell just below her shoulders and smooth, fairly-pale skin. Something about the woman filled Lexa with a feeling that bordered safety, something that the brunette hadn't felt in a very, very long time. Maybe it was the woman's voice, or the gentle way that she'd placed her hands on Lexa's face when she'd found her, or the way see seemed genuinely concerned for Lexa, a complete stranger. Or maybe, and more realistically, it was the fact that she was taking Lexa to the hospital, away from danger. Whatever it was, Lexa's fears were somehow almost entirely replaced with relief and even -just slightly- peace.
Clarke glanced quickly over to Lexa, and the brunette's lips parted slightly at just how blue the blonde's eyes seemed to be. Lexa wasn't sure whether it was her blood-loss or her own damn mind, but those eyes, while they were only visible for a second or two, instantly had her captivated. The blonde's expression was concerned, and she caught a glimpse of pity there too. While normally she would've been offended by pity and have spoken her mind about it, she wound up feeling more insecure than anything. She didn't doubt that she looked bad -horrendous, even. She couldn't remember the last time she'd looked in a mirror, but Lexa knew for a fact that there were a handful of visible bruises and that her clothes were tattered and dirty. She didn't even want to know what the blonde might have been thinking about her. The blood was probably staining her shirt wouldn't have made her look any better either.
Clarke's eyes returned to the road as Lexa looked down, once again concerned about her injury. She furrowed her brow when she saw the towel that was being held against her left side, held in place by some sort of bandage that was wrapped around her waist. It took her a moment to put the pieces together as she wondered how she hadn't even noticed that the blonde had tended to her injury. She must have been more 'out of it' than she'd realized whenever the woman had helped her into the car.
"What's your name?" Clarke asked, clearly attempting to keep her tone natural for Lexa's own reassurance. The brunette knew what she was doing, and she was grateful that the blonde was trying to keep her awake in such a casual way.
"Lexa," she mumbled tiredly, her head turned to the side and her eyes resting on Clarke.
"Lexa," the blonde nodded, the name rolling smoothly off her tongue. "That's a pretty name," she spoke with a small smile. "I like it."
The brunette couldn't help but let out a single, quiet chuckle. She always found it somewhat odd when people claimed to think that a name is 'nice.' She always thought of names to be just that. Names. Maybe it was different for mothers, for parents who had to pick out an identity for their coming children. But when others claimed to appreciate a particular name, Lexa always assumed that it was the kind of response that people give to make a situation less awkward or to just to show some kindness toward the other person. There was something about the way Clarke said it, along with the small, subtle smile and the way her eyes lightly lit up, that gave Lexa a different impression. Clarke seemed genuine, and Lexa couldn't quite pin down what it was, but she felt almost like she recognized the blonde in the seat next to her. It was like they should have been familiar with each other -almost like there was some strange, underlying connection between the two strangers.
She shut her eyes for a moment, shaking her head softly to herself. She was going crazy, she figured. She didn't know the woman next to her, and there was no reason why some stranger should have had any sort of effect on her, especially now. The brunette blamed her previous thoughts on the exhaustion, the loss of blood, and the malnutrition and dehydration that she'd grown accustomed to. She was just out of it.
Lexa sighed quietly, turning her head so that she was looking out the windshield at the road. After what must have been twenty minutes or so, there were no long trees on either side of the road. Instead, their surroundings were much more urban, apartments, townhouses, stores, and other buildings bordering the road. A few miles ahead, Lexa could make out a few skyscrapers that she didn't recognize at all. She swallowed the knot in her throat, glancing around at the area that they were driving through. She didn't recognize anything. She had no idea where they were.
"Where are we?" Lexa asked, her voice cracking slightly. Suddenly, she could feel the fear consuming her once more. She really had no idea as to where she was at all.
"We're only a few more minutes away from the hospital," Clarke replied. Lexa didn't miss the way the she glanced nervously down at the now-red towel on Lexa's side as she spoke. The blonde had been doing that every minute or two since they'd been in the car. Lexa's expression faltered when Clarke didn't realize what she really meant. The blonde's eyes moved up to Lexa's, and her concern grew when she saw the almost-distraught expression on Lexa's face.
"No," Lexa tried again. "I mean where are we?"