This is my first fic on this site, so I'd really, really appreciate reviews. I hope this is alright!
She'd read something, once, about acid attacks - they were common in Asian countries, she seemed to remember, and women would be burnt for rejecting a man, for being too beautiful, or for bringing shame on their families. Lula thought that Lorraine had brought shame to herself, by investing in Nox - subhuman torture of creatures for financial gain. Lorraine Donnegan had committed several crimes, to the mind of Lula Tsibi - and she thought that wrecking the woman's beauty and pride in her appearance might just make her see that; might just provide some vengeance for the animals that her money had paid to kill.
Lula was hardly a top student at science, but even she knew that sulphuric acid was corrosive and harmful enough to damage human skin. The bottle was cold, containing almost half a litre of the liquid within its glass - a sufficient quantity, Lula imagined, to damage what Lorraine held dear. Her piercing blue eyes, her even, tanned skin, sharp bone structure and full lips - gone. In their place, the face that Lula thought a woman like her deserved - after all, a little acid was nothing in comparison to the organised torture of thousands of animals which she helped pay for.
The corridor was empty but for Lorraine and Lula; the former unaware of the student's presence just metres behind her - unaware that in just a few seconds, everything she'd ever known could be destroyed, that she'd soon be screeching in agony as undistinguishable people looked on helpless while she burned, the attacker having fled from the corridor as all eyes were focused upon Lorraine.
Lula's trainers made next to no noise on the linoleum flooring as she followed the businesswoman, acid bottle concealed under her coat as she began to remove the red plastic lid - little protection for a substance so dangerous, really. Her heart rate quickened as the lid came from the neck of the bottle and she began to increase her walking pace, almost catching up to Lorraine, who still remained oblivious to her presence. The noise of the woman's towering shoes echoed through the corridor as the heels clicked against the floor, the noise the only thing breaking the silence of the corridor. Those shoes were leather, Lula noted with anger - an innocent animal had died for Lorraine to be able to sport the latest fashion on her feet as she strutted around. Lula wasn't having that - the woman was going to pay for all the cruelty she'd had inflicted upon other beings; and not in the form of money. She would pay with something much, much more precious.
For a moment, everything seemed to slow down in Lula's head - Lorraine's glossy blonde hair bouncing as she strode along the corridor, her hips swaying in her fitted black pencil skirt, her head held up proudly as usual. Soon she won't have anything to be proud of.
She was only a few short strides away from the woman now, and she brought the bottle out from underneath her coat. The acid was colourless and odourless, and looked as innocent as water, were it not for the orange labels detailing the nature of the chemical. It was an incredibly strong form of acid, Lula knew - almost industrial strength - just a little would corrode the skin it touched, burning and sizzling it with all the power of fire as it made its way deeper and deeper, eating away at the cells.
"Miss!" Lula shouted, and Lorraine turned, clear crystallite eyes glinting in the artificial light of the corridor as they focused on the student... and the bottle in her hands, making its way closer and closer to Lorraine, the liquid inside leaping from its glass container as it was thrown in what felt like hours, but was in fact less than a couple of seconds.
Lorraine's eyes widened as she saw the bottle, labelled as hazardous and corrosive, held in the teenager's steady hands - sulphuric acid, high concentration. She gasped as she realised that it was being launched at her, the acid spilling from the bottle and flying through the air at her as she tried to bring her hands up to shield herself from it. But she was too slow; her hands had barely reached neck level when the acid made contact with the lightly tanned, made up skin of her face, soaking her from the top of her prominent cheekbones, all down her face and neck on her right side and some on her elegant hands which she'd tried to stop the liquid with.
At first it felt like she'd just had cold water thrown on her - no pain was felt instantly, but she heard Lula make a run for it, back down the corridors. Yes, it was only water, Lorraine thought. And then the pain started.
She let out a strangled scream as she felt her skin begin to burn on her face as if someone had poured petrol onto her and light a match. She heard footsteps in the corridor - high heels; Christine's, perhaps. She was still screaming, holding her hands over her face like it would stop the pain - she'd never felt anything like it, not even when she'd scalded her leg on the fire as a young child and spent a week in hospital for it. It was like her flesh was being boiled, the skin tightening as the acid sunk deeper into her, burning through her like wildfire.
"Lorraine?!" Someone shouted - a male voice, maybe Tom, maybe Michael. She didn't know; she couldn't hear anything properly, couldn't analyse it in her mind - she was too preoccupied by the acid eating its way through her skin, and the agony she felt as it did so.
Hushed whispers filled the corridor, staff and students unaware of what had happened, until somebody saw what was happening to her face, and screamed that she was being burnt by something, the whispers escalating until Lorraine could hear students hollering about what they could see. Someone had thrown a bucket full of cold water over her - Nicki, probably, because she was one of the most practical people in the school - in an attempt to stop the burn of the acid, but it seemed to have very little effect. She was still burning, still screaming in pain and writhing in agony as someone went to refill the bucket.
Nicki stayed with her - she could feel her holding her hand, vaguely, and speaking to her, reassuring her that everything would be okay. Students were shooed out of the corridors, until only Lorraine, Nicki, Christine and Michael remained. Tom had gone to meet the ambulance, someone said, but Lorraine couldn't focus on that - the burn of the acid was far too overpowering for her mind to be able to concentrate on anything but the pain. More water was thrown over her face, and Lorraine vaguely heard Michael saying to Christine that it must be some kind of acid that had been thrown at the businesswoman. She wanted to tell them what had happened, but she was no longer capable of controlling her voice, so they were none the wiser. Nicki was still by her side - she'd somehow managed to toss Lorraine's blonde hair, soaking wet from the water, up into a loose bun, keeping it out of her face, and was now holding her upright, left arm around Lorraine's waist.
She didn't know how long she'd been there for before she was taken away in the ambulance; it could have been seconds or hours, because her mind just could not process anything other than pain. She'd passed out at some point from the pain, and been placed in a coma for a series of operations; attempts to restructure her burnt face, neck and hands - the doctors didn't think she'd survive. She wished that she hadn't.
The acid had partially blinded her - she could identify other people's faces, and see detail when it was very close, but she'd never be able to read or write properly again. She'd never be able to drive again - she'd have enough difficulty seeing far enough to walk. But what she could see was her face - or the remainder of it.
Her right eye had little definition - white blended into iris, which blended into pupil in a hazy combination of colours. Where there'd once been smooth, tanned skin on her face and neck, there were scars; red, raw scars which would never heal properly, whatever was done to them. Part of her lips had been destroyed, and her smile was odd and forced now. Not that she had anything to smile about any more. She was ugly, handicapped and useless - Nicki, despite her support, wouldn't want a girlfriend like that. She'd probably never be able to work again due to her injuries - the damage to her hands meant that she could neither type nor write properly; two major components of her job.
She couldn't live like that.
And so, that was what drove her (another bad turn of phrase) onto the private roof terrace of the hospital on that cold, dark, windy night. She'd managed to wheel herself to the lift at the end of the corridor - the acid had even managed to damage her throat and internal organs so as she couldn't eat, and was too weak to stand - and was now sat in her wheelchair at two o'clock in the morning, looking out over the city. The place so full of prosperity, of people making the most of opportunities, progressing onwards in their lives. The very things that Lorraine could no longer do.
She pushed herself up, her too-skinny legs shaking like a foal taking its first steps, and made her way slowly over to the edge of the roof terrace. How she did it, she had no idea, but she managed to find the strength to climb the railings, and stood on the edge, the wind whipping around her to make her position even more precarious than it already was as she clung onto the edge of the railings, knowing that just one step forwards would end her life.
Fighting was for the brave; people like Nicki. Lorraine knew that she wasn't that brave. She couldn't live any longer, being a drain on other people's lives. She had to die, but as she stood there, she wondered if she was too much of a coward even for this fate. Tears rolled silently down her cheek - she thought it ironic that she couldn't actually cry from her right eye; the side of her face that she had need to cry for. On that fateful afternoon, she'd lost so much more than her beauty. She'd been dead since then, truth be told.
It might have been a particularly strong gust of wind, or her own actions, but she felt herself fall forwards, and tumbled through the night sky, not making a sound as she fell fast towards the concrete that she hoped desperately would give her salvation in death. She caught sight of a man at a window, staring at her shocked as she fell past the floor in what felt like slow motion. His face, of course, was stunned - terrified, even - and she was pretty sure he dropped the polystyrene cup of coffee held in his hand as she tumbled, blonde locks billowing out behind her. He was gone in a millisecond, of course, as she hurtled towards the ground, but she hoped that he was braver than she was.
Her final thought was of Nicki. She hoped that she knew that she loved her, that had things turned out differently, she'd have adored her for evermore... but it wasn't to be. Life was cruel like that.
And then everything went black.