I would like to thank Timefather for the first bio for this story. I'm liking things so far! Most PMs I've gotten in a day are two or three authors PMing me, but you guys broke it to four!
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"We've got to hurry, sir."
"I know."
"A civilian settlement is only three miles away, and she is more than capable of getting that far."
"Goddamn it, Corporal, I know that."
"I'm sorry, but the Corporation's not going to like this, General."
"Weyland-Yutani can take one up the ass for all I care. What I DO care about is killing Sil and mothballing this project once and for all. Whatever sent those messages concerning DNA bonding was definitely not looking out for humanity's best interests."
"Yes, sir."
"Now, give all the information you have on this town."
"It's called Crystal Shores. A small settlement that supports itself with tourist revenue, a small lead refinery a mile out from the town, and some models."
"Models?"
"Three swimsuit models or something. Half the reason anyone can live in that place is because of the tourists they bring in."
"Whatever. Anyway, contact the mayor. Don't tell him exactly what we're after, but tell him that we're searching for a young blonde girl. Make some excuse up for why."
"Yes, sir. Anything else?"
"Plan on getting warrants declaring temporary martial law. I have a bad feeling about this damn town."
"Yes, sir."
"And stop calling me sir, goddamn it."
"Y-yes, si—General."
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"Henry Marcel." The voice on the intercom crackled as I entered the building.
Clit's Institute for Psychological Therapy (more known simply as Clit's) was founded roughly ten years after the town itself was first settled.
It currently serves over a thousand patients in both recovery and long-term therapies.
I took my seat at the waiting room, and calmly waited.
Moments later, someone else returned to their seat next to me.
He was in his mid-twenties, and very handsome. The fact he was about five feet tall made me wonder if he'd been malnourished at some point in his life, not to mention his grizzled and scarred look. An eye-patch on his left eye was definitely noticeable, and he wore all black like me. His clothes were a lot more conservative, though, consisting of a black robe jacket, pants, and boots. Despite his strong and built look he was also rather slender, further belying the fact he may have been a fighter.
Thankfully, he didn't notice me studying him so intently, being completely focused on his sign-in sheet.
Each of us that were being treated here had a sign-in sheet that we needed to check over every visit. On the bottom was a large space simply for both patient and therapist to describe their current psychological problem. Some sheets were only partially filled out, since small problems required less detail.
Others, unfortunately, like mine were filled to the brim.
Some patients only needed to come a couple times before their problem was fixed, but I was "incurable". There was no way I'd ever really be fixed from what I'd been through, but going through therapy definitely helped.
His was sparse. Only about half the space given was taken up, and most of the writing was larger than it needed to be.
"Can I help you?" My thoughts were cut off by a dry voice. I looked up and he was staring at me sharply.
"S-sorry. Lost my train of thought." I apologized shakily. Another problem I had was disapproval. Especially from men.
"Shira." The intercom crackled again, this time with my name.
I managed to get up and stagger towards to desk and back to collect my form.
I spent the next few minutes going over my patient information sheet, checking for anything odd.
Meanwhile, he was studying me the whole time.
However, he suddenly coughed with surprise when he saw the lower part of my information form.
It was covered in writing and signatures.
"Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder? Huh…didn't expect someone like you to be like that." He commented, and I felt myself getting irritated.
"…" I tried to ignore him, but clearly he was patient.
"Severe phobia of…oh." His voice dropped when he read the second part.
The part detailing my particular phobia of men, not to mention my slight fear of anything sexual.
I stonily delivered my signed form back to the front desk and sat down, an expression of hurt anger on my face.
"Look, I—" He began to apologize, but was too late.
"Shira, Sherry's ready to see you." The receptionist informed me with a friendly smile, and I left quickly. Meanwhile, he was left in the dust looking slightly regretful.
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"Shira, welcome back." Sherry welcomed me, and closed the door.
Sherry had been my therapist ever since I even started seeking help for my problem, and had remained one of my only friends for the last two years.
"Hi." I greeted shortly, and fell over on the chaise.
That red velvet chaise had been my shoulder to cry on aside from Sherry for every miserable moment of revisiting my horrible past.
"I heard about the recent problem at the studio." She gave me a magazine.
It was one of those Playboy-type pieces of crap, and we were the main centerpiece.
"That piece of shit Miranda." I muttered angrily to myself.
"Don't worry about it too much. She's a bitch, and bitches will do what bitches do. Anyway, I would like to get back to where we were last time." Sherry tried to get my mind off of the problem.
"About…it?" I took a deep breath.
"If you're comfortable. If not, we don't have to go there." She answered comfortingly.
"No, I can do it. I…can do it." I nodded quickly.
"Okay, then. Start when you're ready." Sherry smiled encouragingly.
…It was dark. And painful. So much pain. Then the screaming. They were outside, with torches and guns. My father…he tried to brace the door…they got in. Then they…killed him. They took the rest of us.
They began torturing my family, and thought it'd…they…thought…it would be funny…to make me laugh while I watched them die before my eyes.
…Then the pain began. And so did the laughing. They hurt me. They hurt me badly. But the laughing helped. It made me feel better.
In the end, all I had was my empty, insane laughter.
Most of my words were choked back with tears and coughing, but she was able to hear most of what I said nonetheless.
"So…what you're saying is that when they…raped you that the laughing made it not so bad?" Sherry asked slowly, probing carefully.
I nodded mutely, and lied back on the chaise.
"You see, Shira, that laughing is a way to show brighter emotions, more happy emotions. When they forced you to laugh at such a horrific act, you started to associate laughing with that memory. And when such a horrible memory came back…you wanted to laugh more to make that pain subside. And then you began to laugh at everything." She explained to me, and I nodded.
"What…about my fear of…you know." I managed to talk, albeit slowly.
"Well, that is a bit simpler. You were raped, Shira. It's extremely painful and scarring. And you were abused so harshly for a long time. So after a while, you associated that pain with engaging in sexual intercourse. Not unlike your laughing." She answered slowly.
It was as she finished the sentence that I realized that an hour had already passed. Considering how long it took me to form even a single sentence of my memories out loud, it was unsurprising.
"Sherry…will I ever be better? Truly better?" I asked dully.
"I don't know. That kind of emotional and physical abuse, especially just after coming of age, could be curable or permanent." Sherry was hesitant to answer that question.
I stood slowly, and stumbled to the door.
"Look, Shira…I would advise you go home and get some rest. You're fragile enough without all the problems you've been having lately." She advised after having to help me walk upright.
"You're right. I'll go home." I mumbled tiredly, and she walked me to the exit.
The bastard from earlier wasn't there anymore, and the building was relatively empty. It was already six o'clock, and the sun was setting.
"Get some rest. You need it." Sherry reminded me as she opened the door for me. I thanked her and left.
"Fuck." I groaned. He was leaning against the wall a few feet away.
"Hey there, Shira." He greeted in the sort of way you'd associate with rebellious people. His clothes, personality, and general appearance screamed it.
"What do you want?" I stormed off irritably past him, and he followed.
"Look, I didn't know about it." He apologized quickly, and I let out a scoff.
"Too late, asshole. Now fuck off." I waved his apology off.
Apparently he wasn't going to just give up, considering he kept following.
"I'm not very different from you, Shira." He tried again.
Finally I whirled on him and landed a hard slap across his face.
"Don't. Try. To. Patronize. Me." I warned very quietly and very threateningly.
"Please, I'm not. I used to be a child soldier." His last sentence caught my attention.
"What?" I demanded quickly.
"I used to have a family, a real one. Then the bombing happened. I was in the closet, so I was protected from the blast and the shrapnel. My mother, father, and sister were all killed." He explained, and I felt my anger subside.
"…What…happened after that?" I spoke softly.
"Joined a militia unit at fourteen. Spent four years killing like a natural. Fifth year I decided that I wanted more in life than that, so I escaped. First attempt didn't work out so well, but I'm not a coward. Escaped the second time." He finished.
"How did you end up here?" I asked slowly.
"Spent six years wandering about, trying to find a home. Happened to hop on a ship to America and found myself here." He answered.
I sat down on a bench, and he joined me. I spent several minutes studying the horizon and the setting sun.
"…How long have you been here?" My words were slow and soft, but still strong.
"Two, going on three, weeks. Actually I've been looking for a place to stay, but tourists have all the houses for rent and the apartments." He shrugged.
"…Sorry to hear that." I spoke shortly.
As I talked he did a sudden shift. A photo fell out of his coat pocket and fell to the ground. I leaned down and picked it up.
I was taken aback, and he snatched it quickly before putting it back in his coat pocket.
"Y-you…you're a…oh." I mouthed awkwardly, and he nodded.
This man, whose name I didn't even know yet, was homosexual. I wouldn't have guessed it from his personality or appearance, but I somehow knew it wasn't a joke or a lie.
"My name is Henry Marcel, but people started calling me Hexsis a few years ago." He introduced himself and extended his hand.
I took it carefully and slowly, his arms and hands several times bigger and stronger compared to my thin and slender arms.
"Shira. If…if you don't have a place to stay, you could stay with me." I offered hesitantly, to his surprise.
Having seen my file, it was certainly shocking for someone afraid of men to invite him over to stay.
"Why the sudden offer?" He asked curiously.
I stood up and started walking uphill, towards my house.
"…I guess…maybe it's because you're a lot like me. Someone without friends or anyone to rely on." I responded quietly.
That was enough for him to go on, at least.
He followed me up the hill respectfully and quickly enough to match my pace.
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I opened the door to my house and let him in, securely closing and locking the door after we entered.
"Whoa. Nice place." Hexsis commented as he studied the living room.
My bedroom was nearby with the bathroom, while the kitchen was a part of the living room. Admittedly, it was a pretty simple house despite the size and furnishings.
I tossed my mail on the living room table with an uninterested attitude, and drifted off towards the bathroom.
"Make yourself at home. I need a shower." I told him, and closed the door without waiting for his answer.
"Gotcha." He responded and I heard his footsteps walk off towards the kitchen.
I stripped down and piled my clothes in the corner, turning on the shower to a neutral temperature setting.
Unlike my usual showers I was actually in a hurry to get out, since I felt awkward leaving my house guest alone sitting around.
It was with a sense of dread that I realized that I hadn't grabbed a towel on my way into the bathroom.
"Shit…Hexsis?" I called out with an embarrassed tone.
I guess he couldn't hear me, because there was no answer.
Hopefully he wasn't in my room.
I opened the door cautiously, looking around before exposing my glistening wet naked body to the air conditioning.
I slipped over to the drawer and opened it, but just before I could get one Hexsis appeared.
"Did you say my name, Shi—oh shit! Sorry!" He turned away out of politeness and shock.
"I-I didn't have a towel…so yeah…i-it was me calling you." I explained timidly, and wrapped a towel around my body. I ran back into the bathroom and slammed the door shut.
"Uh, Shira? I'm…I, uh…didn't mean to walk in you…" He apologized through the door.
I was hurriedly trying to get dressed in my night clothes.
"U-uh, yes…I-I…it's okay…" I stammered nervously and managed to finally clip together the catch on my bra.
My pajamas mostly consisted of a black bra-like garment with a small wrapping of cloth hanging off the lower edges, just barely above my lower torso. The other part was a pair of simple black panties. I still kept my short white-blonde hair flowing and combed.
Due to the fact I'd never had company over, I'd never thought to make less provocative nighttime garments available.
I coolly folded my clothes from today and slipped them into the laundry basket before leaving the bathroom.
The look on his face was outright comical, enough to make me burst out in laughter, as I stepped out in such revealing lingerie.
I gave him a shrug and went into the living room, where my TV was.
After flipping it on to some random channel I sat down on the couch and wrapped myself in a blanket for the night.
A few minutes passed before he joined me. He was carrying a bowl.
"Popcorn?" He offered me.
I nodded and gave him space to sit down and relax.
"…So, tell me about yourself, Shira." He started a few minutes in.
A full three minutes passed before I even answered or acknowledged his request.
"I'd rather not. People tend to be scared when they know." I responded shortly.
"Shira, I've seen a lot. Good men and women dying for nothing. Children being forced to kill. So much death. I think I can handle it." He wasn't convinced, and for some odd reason that angered me.
Angered me enough to snap for a brief minute. That was long enough.
I stood, tossing the blanket to the side, and stripped down in front of him.
"You want to know? You…think you can understand? You know nothing." My scarred and abused body was fully exposed to him, a living record of my suffering plain before him.
I told him everything. Every hardship I endured in that village, and eventually the travesties dealt upon me by those cultists. Every scar and mark I remembered and told him exactly how I received it.
I told him exactly how many times they raped me, how long it took for me to go crazy. And the laughing. All the laughing.
Every bottled emotion and painful memory I'd built up over the years since my life was changed I released in a few minutes.
And he listened. He didn't cry, he didn't leave, and he didn't get angry. He simply listened.
But I cried. I laughed. I went completely hysterical.
Sometime after I finished my tragic little story I collapsed, falling into his arms.
This man, who had no reason to even listen to such a tragic story, was cradling me in his arms even after I insulted him in my hysteria.
Most of what I recalled was laughing manically while he held me, and eventually I fell asleep.
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When I woke up, I found myself wrapped in a blanket securely.
He was fast asleep nearby, his arms safely around my covered body.
Apparently he was decent and respectful enough to cover me before holding or touching me like that.
I leaned my head quietly and almost motionlessly forward, and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. I didn't know why, but I felt as if it were necessary.
"Thanks, Hexsis…" I whispered in his ear before closing my eyes to drift off again.
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EXTRATERRESTRIAL RESEARCH INTELLIGENCE ACTIVATED
TEST 0002001 BEGINNING
CURRENT SPECIES LOCATED WITHIN AREA BOUNDS
HUMAN
HYBRID
LIVING WEAPON #25345
COMMENCING TEST
RELEASING…3…2…1…
XENOMORPH BREEDER RELEASED INTO AREA
COMMENCING DATA RECORDING…
CURRENT POPULATION OF TOWN
1435
CASUALTIES RESULTING FROM INHUMAN SOURCES
0
COMMENCING DATA RECORDING…
CURRENT POPULATION OF NON-HUMAN SENTIENTS
2
NON-HUMAN SENTIENT CASUALTIES
0
COMMENCING DATA RECORDING…
