"Oh, I know I should go/ But I need your touch just too damn much
Loving you isn't really something I should do/ Shouldn't want to spend my time with you
Well, I should try to be strong, but baby/ You're the right kinda wrong."
Right Kinda Wrong - LeeAnn Rimes.
It's that nightmare again, the one Lara has had over and over again. She can almost recite the entire thing by heart now, and yet: she has no urge to, no desire to recall that night that haunts her dreams so intently. She recalls every painful detail so vividly. The bullet flying past her head, the sound of her heartbeat drumming loudly in her own ears. And the only thing that took away the dense silence. The sound of a gun shot ringing out, startling her. She can recall the breath hitching in her throat, her hands shaking as they rose to meet her face and then realizing that it had not touched her. The look on Philip Blake's face when he gauged her reaction.
She can remember the sinister look on his face when she finally allowed her hands to fall limp at her side. The way he lowered the weapon and approached her with caution in each step he took to close the distance between them. Something in his eyes was different tonight. It wasn't him who looked at her; but rather the look of a mad man. One hell bent on destroying everything he ever had. And in that moment, Lara Von Hammersmark believed that he was just out of his mind enough to do it. To take away his own creation. Something that he worked so hard to build for himself. And why? She wish even she could answer that. But there is no answering that.
The seconds dragged onward before the male took a clump of blonde curls and drew her into his chest. Lara wasn't sure rather to scream and fight, or let him have his way. Subconsciously, she knew the answer. She knew what it had to be. There was no way she would be able to fight such a large man off. No matter how much strength she had behind one powerful little punch, he would always have more. He would always be bigger.
The hand uncoiled in her hair, and slid down her frame to rest in the middle of her back securely. His warm breath tickled her ear, but Lara refused the urge to crack a smile. On many occasions, she'd spent her nights wrapped in those arms. But tonight? Something was different. There was no love in his arms, no longing, no lustful desire, or love. No, there was a hatred in the way that he held her. One that was almost scolding to the touch. And she resented herself for the urge to tangle her arms around him and pull his torso closer.
"Why do you do this to me, Lara? Why do you make me be so bad to you? Do you enjoy pushing my buttons?" He half whispered into her ear, "You know how bad you make me... You just like holding it over my head, don't you?"
Lara froze, unsure of how to answer. What was it she had done so wrong? The breath warming her ear moved carefully to leave a single kiss against the nape of her neck. One arm snaked around her, a hand resting securely in the middle of her back. The other still held the pistol he fired at her.
Lara felt her heartbeat start to drum again. He knew how to make it all better without even trying. Somehow, that bitterness she held for him had washed away with just a single kiss. How could she love someone so much and yet hate them with a burning passion at the same time?
That question always baffled the blonde. How could someone make her so angry, and yet she could hold so much love for them? She recalled having the same feelings toward her older brother. She had loved him with her whole heart, but resented him for leaving her behind. And now, she was starting to resent the man who molded her into what she was. In the young survivor she had become. Because she knew without him, she would be nothing. That was the truth. The honest truth.
But, she endured so much from him. How could she allow herself to go through so much from someone so cruel?
The hand that rested in the small of her back coiled tighter around her, drawing her into him. Lara knew what he wanted. But this time, she would not give into his command. It took her several seconds before she found her voice, "I should be going..." She moused out.
His grip tightened, a sign that he would not allow her to go without a fight. "Just one kiss?"He asked, sheathing his weapon and using his freshly freed hand to raise her chin. His lips hovered over hers, almost teasingly. "Just one kiss, and you can retire..." But Lara knew better. One kiss would turn into so much more. And there was no denying she wanted it, but she couldn't. She wouldn't. She refused.
And he knew she was refusing him.
Fire formed all at once in his hazel eyes, years of anger and hurt unleashed. "Who is he?!" He demanded, releasing her from his grasp.
Lara took a baby step backwards, mentally preparing herself to vault from the room. The Governor was a lot of things, but dumb wasn't one of them. He'd always been an intelligent man, it just hadn't been seen until the apocalypses claimed the world. Philip Blake frowned, running his fingers through his dark brown hair that was peppered with specks of gray. He wasn't sure how to react to what was happening. He didn't know what to say, or how to handle the situation that was being placed in front of him. Never before had he ever felt so attracted to anyone. Not since Sarah.
"Lara, speak to me!" He barked when the silence had become ear piercing. "Who is he?"
Lara was frozen by fear. She shook with fear, her head tilted toward the floor, refusing to make eye contact with the man who she so desperately wanted but resented at the same time. How could she speak his name when she was in another man's house. A man who had her first, loved her first? A man who made her what she was. How could she do that to him? Her cheeks flushed when she finally lifted her head to make eye contact with him. A plan hatched in the back of her mind. "What about that woman you have been paling around with? What was her name? Andrea?"
Rage gleamed in his eyes now. He took a reckless step forward, and grabbed onto her arm to jerk her forward. Lara could feel the blood vessels bursting under the skin. A small, involuntary yelp fell from her lips desperately. "You don't fucking get to bring her up. This isn't about her!" He jerked her forward again, but Lara planted her feet against the hard wood floor and snarled. Tugging her arm free, she stared at him. "That's exactly what this is about! Don't force your fucking double standards on me, you bastard!" She snarled.
Giving the room a sweeping glance, she grinned when her eyes met the picture of his wife and daughter. "What would your wife think of you?!"
He growled. "Don't you dare bring her into this, you fucking cunt..." His words trailed off before he lunged forward.
Lara woke with a jolt. That dream got worse, and worse every time. The memory of him haunted her, following her from place to place like a bad rash. Lara couldn't shake him, no matter how hard she tried. She couldn't forget the way he looked at her that night. Sure, she remembered the good, too. But honestly, there was more bad than good when it came to that man.
Running her fingers through her curly blonde locks, the blonde bit her tongue gingerly. She had to forget him. And soon. Reliving that memory wasn't what she wanted. And every night was the same thing. It was him, always him standing there watching her. Attacking her viciously for something that wasn't even true. How could she allow herself to be in love with someone who was so rotten to her?
The blonde stripped herself of the covers and swung her feet over the edge of the bed. The hard wood floor was cold under her toes. She could recall the mornings when getting out of bed had been easier. Before the dead roamed the dead, before she lost everything. Before everything went to hell. Now? It was the same old routine. Wake up, survive, go to bed. That dried out rinse, and repeat routine that she'd been dreading since leaving Woodbury.
"Lara?" His voice called from the kitchen. Lara froze. Hadn't he died? Why was he here? "Lara?" The voice echoed again.
The blonde swallowed hard. Was this some kind of cruel joke? It had to be. There was no way in hell she was going to go into her kitchen to find him standing at the counter with a cup of coffee in hand. These things didn't happen. That feeling of dread returned, but the blonde managed to pull herself together enough to walk into the kitchen. Slow, evenly paced steps led her there. Sure enough, the kitchen was empty just as it had been when she went to bed.
A small grin touched her face as she retrieved a water bottle from the covered. "Rest in piece, fuck face..." She thought to herself, all too happily.