TWs: Mental Health crisis, addiction, mentions of suicide, death
Mask
Sometimes it feels like no one actually sees her, like nobody looks beyond the mask. The mask of someone who is put together, in control, sane. Not all wounds are visible. People don't see when she is falling apart. When the voices in her head are screaming at her, when the beast inside is fighting to break free. Nobody sees the fear in her eyes or the panic she feels every time that word is mentioned. She feels exposed, like the whole world is watching her, but nobody knows, or nobody did, until him. He sees her and it's terrifying.
She intrigues him, the dark haired beauty that keeps to herself. He's drawn to her, notices her, watches her. He stares for two weeks before he finally introduces himself. There's a complexity to her, many things going on beyond the surface of that polished exterior. He wants to know her, truly know her, not the mask she puts on. They chat and flirt for weeks until he asks her out. She's hesitant and he doesn't push, though he desperately wants to know more about her. She haunts his dreams until his dreams become a reality and she's there, beside him.
Trapped
She hides her meds and her past from him, too scared to let him all the way in. He knows that she suffers but not what, she can't bear the thought of him knowing that. He doesn't push but she is scared. Scared of what happens when she gets trapped in her own mind, when she can't fight off those thoughts, when every breath is agony as she struggles not to succumb to the seductive allure of the of what happens when they take over and she is powerless to stop them from destroying her, from destroying him.
She keeps her history vague, but the fear that flashes in her eyes and the moments when she drifts off tell him more than her words ever could. She has a tortured past, has done things she's ashamed of and maybe even things she's afraid of. They don't talk about her illness, or her past. She worries about it, worries about telling him, he can see it in her eyes. He wants to ease her pain, help shoulder some of her burdens but he doesn't need to know. He takes what she gives and lets it be enough for him.
Bats
She's afraid of the dark. The dark is associated with her, the beast, the master of the voices, who feeds on darkness and fear. It reminds her of her mother, and days spent locked in the cellar, when the bats were her only companions. He puts one up in his apartment for Halloween and she nearly throws up, can't stop the waves of terror that flood her, rising with every breath, pushing her to her knees. He takes care of it, never to be seen again and rubs her back, muttering soothing words. He doesn't ask and she doesn't say.
He's scared that first time he sees her breakdown. His heart aches and he feels useless, powerless. He longs to be able to comfort her, to know what to do when she's feeling that way. He asks her after, once she's settled, how he can help, if he can help, and she doesn't have an answer. He wants so badly for her to let him in, but he knows it's hard for her. He won't lose her by pushing her too far. He learns as he goes, assisted by internet research and memories of comforting his mom during her fits.
Bang
Night terrors are her punishment, a side effect of the meds that keep her in control. The closer she gets to him, the more and more she dreams of his death, at her hands or another's. There's a figure nearing and she's frightened, she sees the gun in her hand, hears the loud bang, and sees him fall. She goes to turn it on herself, end this misery once and for all, when she's shaken awake. Her eyes widen and her breath slows and she realises he's safe, alive, and breathing beside her, assuring her it was just a dream.
She has nightmares; thrashes, whimpers, and cries out in her sleep. She tries to keep them to herself, but he's a light sleeper and he hears and feels her terror in the night. He's unsure what to do that first time, but he wakes her, can't bear to hear her in so much pain. He learns she needs a distraction after, needs to feel him and channel that adrenaline so she can sleep again. It becomes their little routine, he wakes her, then distracts her, holding her until she falls back asleep. It's then that he realizes he loves her.
Corpse
She can still see the blood, remembers the knife, and the beast begging to be set free. She let her guard down for one minute, trying to protect herself from her mother's cutting words, sharp blows. Her mother's beast was out to get Regina that night. They both knew only one of them was going to survive the battle. She was afraid, didn't want to die, so she let her beast take over and all she remembers is the blood and the knife and the regret. Harsh, cloying regret, sickened by her actions and the refusal to hold her accountable.
He has a dark past, too, lost his way after his mother's death, drowning himself in drugs and booze, anything to numb the pain. It became painful without the drugs, and he was stealing so he could get his fix, doing anything for another hit. He can barely remember that year of his life. When he was caught, he got lucky, was sent to treatment, learned to cope. The cravings are still there, but he keeps pushing, distracts himself, usually with her, and though she is a willing participant, he can't help but feel bad, wish he wasn't this way.
Scream
They are screaming at her, the voices, begging her to set them free, everything she does just angers them, makes them louder, until she can't think, can't hear anything but the screaming in her head. She seeks him out, unintentionally, she can't speak, can't say anything, just shakes and rocks on the floor. He says things she can't hear, worries, frets, and then there's a hand on her arm, a pinch, and everything goes black. She awakes in a hospital bed, her mind blessedly silent. He's there waiting for her, he now knows the truth about her, but didn't leave.
She comes to him one day, and it's the scariest day of his life. She's there, but not really, can't seem to hear him, or if she can, can't answer him. He doesn't know what to do but after 10 minutes he makes the call and prays she won't hate him for it. She's still shaking when they arrive and they give her a sedative before they put her in the ambulance. They let him come with and he sits beside her, letting the tears fall as he holds her hand. He hopes like hell he made the right choice.
Possessed
She spent her childhood in constant fear she would become possessed like her mother. Constantly worried about being taken over, possessed. She prayed constantly to any god to spare her from it, but her prayers went unanswered. She was 14 when she first heard the voices and she was so terrified, she threw herself down the stairs. She tried to rid herself of them, rid the world of her, two other times without success. She tells him and waits for the judgment, but all he does is hug her, whispers that he loves her and he's glad it didn't work.
He finally learns from the doctor what she had been so scared to tell him. It's an accidental disclosure, the psychiatrist asking if he knew whether she took her meds that day, and if he knew how long she'd been hearing the voices for. Everything clicks when he hears that word, and he understand her fear, given the stigma that surrounds it. But he's not leaving, never will, he loves her, all of her, including her illness. It's then that she opens up, tells him about her history and he's astounded by her strength and how hard she fights everyday.
