Then
(Six Weeks Ago)
Laura had watched the sky turn from deep black to dark blue over the course of the last hour. It seemed her new habit of getting up early to take care of business before Carmilla got up had followed her to the cabin. She'd rolled to her back and had been replaying the events of the last week as she stared out the skylight overhead. She'd been nervous to come to a cabin in the middle of nowhere but had felt reassured after seeing the photos Carmilla had shown her and receiving Frank's detailed list of the various weapons hidden around the cabin itself.
As much as she knew the two of them needed the time to bond away from the mess back in Vancouver, she still felt uneasy not knowing what was going on back home. She reached for her phone on the nightstand; she'd noticed the night before that her battery was almost dead and wanted it charged for the ride home later that day. She checked the time, barely six o'clock, and noticed her phone had reception.
Laura looked over to her sleeping girlfriend, kissed her shoulder and then slowly climbed from the bed so as not to wake her before heading to the bathroom. She turned on the light and winced at the glare as she made her way to the toilet. She wondered, if she had cell reception, would her internet work too?
She smiled as she opened her email; they'd found a link between Bruce and Deanna. The house he was living in was previously under the name of one of Deanna's alias'. She sighed; "That," she thought, "that was a fucking mess."
On hearing Carmilla's plan Rick had immediately called her Dad; he didn't like the idea of taking him down on the Seawall as someone might get hurt. Despite that, the two couldn't come up with an alternate until Carmilla mentioned going to the car dealership. Fewer people around meant fewer chances of something going wrong. Unfortunately, as the plan was hatched in the ten minutes it took to get from the lab to the dealership, there'd been no chance to warn Laura. Despite that the only person hurt was Bruce himself.
Rick's visit on Friday wasn't unexpected; Laura already knew someone within the department had ordered Bruce's transfer to general population, from there it had been only a matter of time before one of Deanna's plants took care of him. The upside was that they'd found the man who made the call, he in turn, had outed several of the people working with him so he'd be given protection.
Yes, 'a fucking mess' was pretty accurate. She turned off her phone and was returning to bed when she was startled by a crash from downstairs. She glanced to the bed to see that it hadn't woken Carmilla and then retreated to the bathroom to grab the gun she knew was hidden behind the toilet. She quickly checked the magazine, clicked it back into place and flipped off the safety; sure, she might have a lot of explaining to do if she actually ended up using it, but better to have to explain where she got the gun than have either of them hurt.
She crept back into the bedroom, her ears trained for any noise from downstairs as she quickly pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. She found the small flashlight she kept in her bag, took one last look to make sure Carmilla was still asleep, and then quietly made her way out into the hall.
Laura kept the flashlight off as she made her way to the stairs, her eyes adjusting to the dim morning light enough that she could make out a person in the kitchen. Being small had its advantages and she was able to make it to the lamp closest to the kitchen without the person noticing.
"Don't move," she hissed quietly, her gun pointed at the back of the person's head as she flicked on the light. "Turn around, slowly, and keep your hands where I can see them."
"Well which is it, Miss Hollis," a gravely voice replied as he turned with his hands in the air, "don't move? Or turn around?" he joked.
"You're..." she stammered, her gun dropping a few inches, "but you're..."
"Dead?" he supplied.
Laura could do nothing more than nod numbly.
"Perhaps we could take this downstairs?" he suggested with a nod to where Carmilla was still asleep. "We wouldn't want to wake her." Laura nodded and motioned him towards the stairs with her gun. "You can put that away, Miss Hollis, I am no threat to you."
"Be that as it may," Laura replied evenly as he grabbed the sandwich he'd made and took a beer from the fridge, "I haven't decided that I'm not shooting you yet."
He turned and regarded her a moment, nodded and then made his way to the stairs. She followed him down to the Rec room, her mind whirling with questions. He flicked on a light and went to take a seat in one of the easy chairs. He took a bite of his sandwich and nodded to the couch opposite him.
"You must have a lot of questions," he commented once he'd swallowed.
"Just so there's no misunderstanding, you are William Karnstein Senior, yes?" He nodded. "You son of a bitch!" she spat.
"That's no way to talk to your employer," he mocked.
"'Employer?'" she blurted.
"I had Frank look into your father when my first wife, Carmen, was killed and I discovered that he had looked into her death," he shook his head. "He seem, invested, so, when Carmilla and Will ran away from Deanna, he seemed a natural choice to watch over them."
"You hired someone to do what you should have done in the first place!" she said angrily. "You!" she accused as she pointed at him and stood. "All of this is your fault!"
"I won't deny it," he replied sadly. "Please," he pleaded as he put his half-eaten sandwich aside, "if you'll sit I will explain."
"I still haven't decided whether or not to shoot you," she said evenly as she resumed her seat across from him.
"Noted," he replied with a small grin.
"Why did you ever marry that bitch anyway?" she questioned.
"I was younger than you are now when we had Millie," he began solemnly, "When Will came along three years later I wasn't any better equipped to deal with an infant," he shrugged and looked at his beer a moment before taking a sip. "Carmen was a wonderful mother," he smiled, "when I lost her," his voice caught, "I was at a complete loss at how to care for a three year old, let alone my infant son."
"So you married Deanna to take care of them?" she asked ruefully. "Great plan."
"You have to understand, I was devastated by my wife's death, I was barely functional," he implored. "When Deanna stepped in and started taking care of things around the house I was too grateful to see anything else."
"Did you ever love her?" Laura asked out of curiosity.
"Have you met Deanna?" he laughed and shook his head. "No, she was as much a means to an end I was to her. She had grown up with nothing, put herself through school and worked her way up in my company from receptionist to my personal assistant."
"And this was before your wife's death?" Laura questioned.
"God, you really are a cop, aren't you?" he laughed.
"Just trying to understand how you could leave your kids in the hands of that foul woman," she replied evenly.
"I had no idea," he admitted. "Deanna can be very charming, and on the surface she did everything right; took her time getting to know them, took care of them, everything one would expect of a woman trying to take the place of their dead mother would do. I had no reason to suspect anything."
"Plus you were too busy building your business to pay your children any mind aside from the occasional trip once they got a little older," she pointed out and studied him. "But you must have figured it out; why else fake your death?"
"The why," he confided, "is far more complicated than the how." He sat back in his chair and took another long swallow of his beer. "I only knew she was out to kill me, I had no idea they were in danger," he shrugged. "My Will kept her from their money and stipulated she'd only continue to receive her 'allowance' if she took care of them until they turned twenty-one."
"You really had no idea she was abusing both of them?" she asked incredulously.
"She didn't lay a hand on either of them while I was alive," he corrected.
"You're not that naive," she laughed. "Surely you know there are more forms of abuse than just the physical?" She began to shake she was so angry. "Carm gave me her journals to read," she informed him coldly. "How she turned out to be the kind, generous, loving woman she has despite it, is beyond me."
"And you would know, given your Psychology degree," he pointed out and sighed. "Look, I'm not proud of it, but I really had no idea what was going on. I spent as much time as I could with them once they were old enough for me to take care of and neither of them ever let on what she was doing."
"Because Will thought it was normal and Carm was too scared of what Deanna would do if she told you," she corrected. "And if you knew she was trying to kill you why the fuck would you leave your children in her care?"
"They were more valuable to her alive," he replied, "I wasn't."
"That still..." she shook her head, "Why did you fake your death and how?" she asked point blank.
"I had finally found a doctor who figured out was wrong with me," he started, "but I wasn't lucky enough to have a brilliant Biochemist working on the problem. He warned me that the cure could very well kill me, and if it didn't, I wouldn't be in any shape to defend myself for quite some time. You have to understand, the parasite had been in my system for months, not weeks. I could barely move for fear of breaking another bone. I was weak, and I was vulnerable," he looked down as he continued. "I figured, the best way to protect them would be to get cured and watch over them from afar, make sure she didn't hurt them too." He looked up when Laura didn't say anything. "The cure almost killed me and I was put in a medically induced coma for six months while my body healed."
"Your official report reads, 'Cardiac Arrest,'?"
"I did die of a heart attack that night," he supplied, "a heart attack I caused so that the EMTs I'd hired could get me out and to safety."
"But you could," she started, her frustration starting to show, "you could put an end to all this!"
"How?" he questioned. "Aside from the legal ramifications of faking my death, I can't prove she tried to kill me."
"But if everyone knew you're alive she'd have to stop trying to ruin Carm's life," she retorted.
"And then Carmilla would not get the justice she deserves," he supplied.
"You have got to be kidding me!" she replied sharply. "Carm spent more than seven years fighting for her life and you only step in when she runs?" She stood and began pacing. "You really expect me to believe, that in all that time, with all the visits to hospital with unexplainable injuries, not once did you or Frank think 'abuse'? Not once did you even try to find out?"
"Of course we did!" he said hotly and stood to face her. "But I was barely able to move for the first two years and what could Frank do? Everyone is afraid of her, she made sure of that!" He shook his head. "Anyone who questioned her had their lives ruined within days," he said quietly and fell back into his chair, "it didn't take long before they stopped asking."
"And Carm was too afraid she'd hurt Will to stand up for herself," she muttered and fell back onto the couch. "Why are you here? I mean, you're obviously too chicken shit to come forward."
"I came to warn you about the Jeep," he said, surprising her.
"We already know about the GPS unit, we left it intact so as not to tip off Deanna," she supplied despite her shock.
"It wasn't just a GPS unit," he clarified. "Frank told me what you'd found so I decided to take a look at it when you got here Friday evening. I was a little worried about all the wires coming from it so I sent a picture to your bomb expert, Steven, who then called and talked me through the disarming process."
"Disarming process?" she sputtered, she hadn't realized they'd been driving around in a bomb.
"There was a small explosive device contained with the GPS unit, just big enough to destroy the evidence however there was also a detonator," he held up his hand to forestall her next question; "I couldn't find where the charges are, the wires lead into the frame itself, but I disconnected that detonator..."
"That detonator?"
"Something has been done to front fender," he shook his head, his frustration obvious; "I can't disconnect it but it looks like if you try to use the winch or get into a fender bender, it'll also set of the explosives."
"That you can't find," she finished for him dryly. "So if nothing can be done and I can't tell Carm why we shouldn't use the Jeep, what do you suggest?"
"There's a big storm coming, and I don't know if Millie has told you, but they've made the road impassable whenever it so much as sprinkles," he explained. "Kenny is out presoaking a section at the bottom of one of the hills and I went out yesterday and placed a lightening rod on a big tree near the top, the same tree I've rigged to fall and block your path. Millie's first instinct will be to use the winch to get to higher ground. Make sure she checks the cable before she uses it; I've cut most of the way through it and taken the spare out of the trunk. Kenny has already called his son and his friends to be on standby to get you out." He smiled. "I'm guessing you'll get your excuse for heightened security when I blow the Jeep, once it's safe of course."
"Of course," she breathed weakly. "You'll wait until after we're gone?"
"I wasn't planning to, but I could," he replied thoughtfully. "Why?"
"Because A) We don't know how much explosives are in the Jeep and I don't want anyone hurt and B) Carm is going to be upset enough at losing her Jeep, she doesn't need to see it happen."
"You care for her," he said quietly, "I mean, genuinely care for her, don't you? It's not just an act to gain her confidence, is it?"
"Have you been spying on us?" she asked angrily despite her glowing cheeks; she'd taken Carmilla's assurances that they were alone to heart and there were definitely a few things they'd done that she hoped he hadn't seen.
"I give this place a very wide berth whenever my daughter or her friends come up here," he offered, "but I was at the entrance when you arrived and watched how the two of you interacted," he smiled, "I don't remember that last time I saw my Millie so happy and relaxed."
"Does it bother you? That she's with a woman?" she queried.
"Even if it did, it's not like I have a right to question it," he replied sadly. "As you so rightly pointed out, I am the cause for most of her unhappiness." He was right and Laura wasn't about to ease his guilt. "Besides, Kenny is gay and I helped him through his grieving when he lost his partner. People love who they love, if you make her happy, then I'm all for it."
"I do love her," she admitted, her cheeks again reddening. "I know I wasn't supposed to, it makes everything so much more complicated, but I do," she said sadly and looked down. "I'm scared that, in the end, I'll end up hurting her worse than anything Deanna has ever done."
"But surely she'll see that all you and your father have done is help her," he countered gently.
"Or she'll feel like all I've done since the day we met is lie to her," she clarified, "and manipulated her to do the things that needed to be done."
"Which you've only done to keep Deanna from figuring out who is really behind everything," he supplied. "You've done an excellent job so far, Miss Hollis, don't lose heart now when we're so close to the finish line."
"Who else knows you're alive?" she questioned.
"Just Frank and Kenny," he answered. "I don't know that you should tell your father."
"Why not?" she asked in surprise.
"That," he paused, "is not my story to tell."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means you need to talk to your father," he replied vaguely.
"Wait..." she trailed off as new pieces of the puzzle fell into place, "you think Deanna had my mother killed, don't you?"
"I know she did," he replied quietly.
"But why? I mean, I know Dad went to school with your wife but I see no other connection," she said thoughtfully. "And if it was something my father knew, why kill my mother?"
"To keep him quiet," he supplied. "Your father was still a cop at the time, his death would have raised too many questions, but your mother's?"
"People believed the mugging gone wrong," she provided. "Which means he's still in danger." She shook her head; she had a feeling an uncomfortable conversation was coming in her near future. She studied him a moment. "So you've been living up here all this time?" He nodded. "And Kenny cared for you when you couldn't take care of yourself?" He nodded again. "So the smoke I noticed yesterday morning, that was you?"
"My main home is inside the mountain," he explained once he'd nodded, "but when Millie and her friends come up I go to the small cabin I had built near the property's edge." He looked to his watch. "I should be going. Kenny is going to call in a few hours to warn you about the storm and I need to get out to the road before you get there."
She watched as he disappeared through a hidden door behind the bar and then rubbed her face. "What the hell is going on?" she wondered as she stood and went to open the bar's fridge. She located a bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream and headed back upstairs to the kitchen to make herself a hot chocolate. She placed the kettle on the stove, the weight of the pistol in her pocket reminding her of its presence.
Laura shook her head and made her way back up to the bedroom. She checked on Carmilla; she was curled around Laura's pillow and was still dead asleep. She shook her head again as she made her way to the bathroom to return the gun to its hiding place. She spotted the full garbage next to the toilet and decided to make herself useful. She collected it, replaced the bag and then made to head back downstairs, her backpack over her shoulder. She dropped her bag on the couch and went to grab the garbage from the downstairs bathroom, dismayed slightly at how much blood there was and decided to take advantage of her phone's internet to do a little research on Carmilla's condition.
She made her hot chocolate as she browsed through her phone; what she found was hardly comforting. It seemed, not only likely that Carmilla had Endometriosis, but had a pretty bad case of it and was probably in far more pain than she was letting on. But that part Laura understood as she'd gotten far enough into Carmilla's journals; Deanna was a master of exploiting weaknesses and Carmilla had been conditioned, from a young age, to hide that she was hurt, both from strangers, and from Deanna.
She checked the time, saw that it was going on seven and decided to call Frank; the only person she could call who already knew William Senior was still alive. Perhaps it was a little early to call him on a Sunday morning, but she was pissed and didn't really care if she woke him.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she said by way of greeting as she made her way outside.
"I take it you met the cabin's permanent resident?" he replied carefully.
"Answer me!" she ordered.
"Do you think your father would have taken the job if he knew was paying the bill?" he countered.
"Why did Deanna have my mother killed?" she questioned.
"I..." he hesitated, "that's something you need to ask your father."
"Fuck you," she spat.
"Laura!" he admonished.
"No," she hissed, "it's not your life on the line! It's not my father's life on the line." She took a deep breath to calm her anger. "I'm the one who has been one fender bender away from being blown sky high for the last month, not you." She heard him sigh but decided to play his guilt to her advantage. "Fine!" she breathed. "Don't tell me but this ends now..."
"Laura..." he tried to interrupt.
"No," she talked over him, "I'm done reacting. Done waiting for Deanna to make her next move. You, Dad, William fucking Karnstein Senior, you're all too fucking scared to take her on directly but you're not the ones in danger, we are."
"What do you suggest?"
"This," she sighed, "this Jeep thing should be enough to convince her to beef up security so have the Xanders on standby. Also have Rick and Steven sweep the gym, it's time Carm knows about the microphones in the cars and the gym. Tell them to take Chico with them; if she managed to rig the Jeep to explode I don't want to take any chances."
"Rick's just waiting on Carmilla's call," he offered.
"Good," she answered and looked out over the lake. "I'm going to try to talk her into letting me run things while she trains, to let her focus you know?"
"Is that the real reason you got involved with her?" he asked; "So you'd have an excuse to take care of her more directly?"
"I would have suggested it eventually," she countered, an edge to her voice. "You might not believe it, Frank, but I do love her." She let her statement hang a moment. "From now on, I'm in charge, got it?"
"You have been for a while," he replied lightly.
"I'm not kidding, Frank," she interjected angrily. "I'm done playing by her rules, done working from behind the scenes. It's time that woman feel some of the fear she's made Carmilla feel all her life." She looked at the time. "I have to go; Carm will be up soon and I'd rather get this disaster of a day over with before I lose my nerve."
"Just make sure she checks the winch cable," Frank reminded her.
"I will," she replied and hung up.
She made her way to the kitchen to start making breakfast; maybe the smell of bacon, cinnamon and fresh coffee would wake her girlfriend wake from her slumber. As fucked up as the situation with Carmilla was she relished the normal things; like making her breakfast and taking care of her. It was during those times that she could forget who she was really was and the reasons she'd found a way into Carmilla's life. She worried that Carmilla would be angry with Dark; he'd been the one to convince to her to place the ad looking for a sparring partner. She smiled; he'd also been the one to suggest she place an ad looking for someone to do her hair before her fights. She, Perry and LaFontaine had gone to University together, and while Perry had no interest in Sports Management, she was Laura's first choice as Carmilla's manager. Through Perry she'd set up Carmilla's fights and even arranged for her trainers. Perry was, if nothing else, an amazing actress, she only hoped she'd still be up for the task when things got crazier. But it was LaFontaine who'd been critical in their fight against Deanna's favorite weapon and was the driving force in helping and curing Dark. They'd even managed to synthesize a vaccine which Laura had dosed the gym's water supply with the day after she moved in.
She opened a file on her phone and made Carmilla a protein shake as she ate her breakfast and Carmilla's cooked on the stove. She put the shake in the fridge once she'd finished her breakfast, and after a moment's hesitation, stole one of Carmilla's cigarettes from the freezer; she'd given up the habit years ago but the morning's revelations and the stress of knowing what the day was about to bring, had her craving a smoke.
Laura made her way back outside and went to lean on the railing as she lit her smoke. It was ironic, really, Carmilla's stories of the first three women she'd been with had Laura wondering if Carmilla really trusted her. "Did she get her period this weekend on purpose to keep me at arm's length?" she wondered but dismissed the thought; no one would knowingly put themselves through as much pain as she was suffering.
No, it was ironic because, given the many things Laura was keeping from her, the list having grown just that morning in an alarming way, Carmilla really shouldn't trust her. She sighed and then inhaled deeply as she lit her smoke. She heard the toilet flush upstairs and smiled; "Guess breakfast worked," she thought and shook her head. "God I hope you forgive me when the time comes," she said quietly as tears crept down her face; "I don't know what I'm going to do if I lose you."
Now
(Four Weeks, Five Days to Go)
Carmilla leaned against the wall opposite the tournament bracket and sighed; it was Sunday afternoon and she was waiting on the few others who had decided on an extra weekend morning practice to head back to the house. Wednesday's fight had been an upset with Randa beating Teccia via a hard fought three round decision. It was a quite a blow to her team having the number three seed Teccia taken out in the first round but secretly Carmilla was glad, one less high seeded opponent the better. Gilbert Melendez, her coach, had confided that, given the choice, he would have her fight closer to the end of the preliminaries to give her more to recuperate from her fight with Rose, which translated to Carmilla having more time to learn. She had a feeling Pettis was likely to do the same thing for other reasons. Namely to give her opponent more time to prepare and because he thought the longer he could make Carmilla wait to fight the better. Which had both its pros and cons; fighting nearer the end meant that she'd be fighting three times in a week and a half. She sighed again; after Friday's fight she was more worried about her opponent after Alex; the number two seed, Joanne Calderwood. She'd been one of the fighters Carmilla and Laura had researched; outside of the cage she seemed shy and soft-spoken. Inside the cage was an entirely different story. Her fight with Emily had also gone to decision but there was no question in anyone's mind who had won.
She shook her head as she turned her head to Bec's approaching footsteps.
"Everyone's 'bout ready to go," Bec commented as she leaned on the wall next to her. "Whatcha doing?"
"Figuring out who I might have to fight," she replied casually and motioned towards the door. She'd been lucky enough to get the same driver who'd picked her up from the hotel and seen her one moment of weakness since entering the house. She'd commented one afternoon about how badly the Vegas heat was getting to her and he'd been kind enough to crank the air conditioning whenever he drove her team. Carmilla would have spent all her time at the gym if she could have. Not only was it slightly cooler than the house, but she didn't have much time to think about what was going on in Vancouver without her. As it was her team worked out in the morning when it was coolest and then she'd take a nap until dinner time to miss out on most of the day's heat. She'd get up around six, make herself dinner and then join the other's in her little group to pass the time until nine when she could be by herself and write to Laura. "I made the mistake of getting to know Rose a little before the fight and it made it so much harder," she confided. "Danny was the first person I fought I had history with and Rose was the first I liked," she shrugged. "I like to think I learn from my mistakes so I'd rather not make friends with someone I might have to fight in a few weeks."
"Can I ask you something?" Bec asked as they got into the cool air of the van. Bec continued at her nod; "Did you let Rose kick your leg so many times on purpose?"
Carmilla chuckled and nodded.
"Promise not to tell anyone?" she joked.
"So you were setting up the big left hand?" Bec asked with a laugh at her nod. "Nicely done."
"Thanks," she replied with a smile, "too bad it didn't actually connect."
"That might work to your advantage though," Bec commented, "no one knows it's your secret weapon."
"True," she replied and smiled as Angela and the others joined them.
She looked out the window as they drove from the gym to the house and let her mind wander. She wondered how everyone was doing and if Laura missed her as much as she did. Everything she did reminded her of Laura; sleeping alone, showering alone, even making a meal alone, it all served to make her miss her more.
Once they got back the others let her shower first as she had once reasoned she didn't use much warm water and was quick. She let the cool water wash over and allowed herself a moment of weakness as the tears fell. "God," she thought as she wiped away her tears roughly; "it's been nine days and it already feels like forever."
She gathered herself as she washed; she had vowed not to let the others see her at her weakest, not even those she was beginning to consider friends. But she knew there would come a time when she'd need a shoulder to lean on and she hoped that Bec, and maybe Angela, would be those shoulders.
Carmilla got out of the shower a few minutes later, wrapped her hair in a towel and threw on her robe. She passed Emily on her way out, the latter still looking somewhat disheartened over her loss on Friday. Carmilla had reminded her that she managed to take the number two seed to a three round decision and that was something to be proud of. She liked Emily and she was another of their little group.
While she and Bec had connected immediately, the others had joined them slowly. It was the reason she'd been studying the tournament bracket earlier; she wanted to see what the chances were that she'd have to fight any of her new friends. She laid down on her bed and went over the possibilities as she stared at the pictures of her friends. Both Angela Hill and Emily had already lost so didn't have to worry about them while both Angela Magana and Bec were in the other tournament bracket so if she did have to fight either of them it wouldn't be until the finale and she wouldn't mind losing the last fight to either of them. She hadn't exactly chosen who to get close to based on who she might have to fight but she was glad she wouldn't have to fight any of them none-the-less.
One of the advantages of the show was getting to watch your possible opponents fight. Which was another reason she was paying close attention to the tournament bracket. Maybe she should be more worried about Alex but it was her next fight that had her concerned. In fact, if Randa managed another upset, Joanne would likely be her toughest challenge. But she was getting ahead of herself. "One fight at a time," she reminded herself as she looked up as weight settled on the bed beside her.
"You okay?" Bec asked.
"Not really," she admitted and looked to the cameraman in the doorway. "Is there any reason I can't get my confessional over with right away?"
"I don't see why not," he replied as he took the camera from his shoulder. "I'll go get it set up."
"Thanks," she looked to Bec a moment and then to Angela M. as she joined them. "Would it be okay if I have a couple of friends with me?" she called after him.
He turned and looked at her thoughtfully; she had a feeling they'd been warned about what she was up to given their near constant presence and she hoped they'd let her have some emotional support.
"It'll be easier to tell if I pretend like I'm telling them my story," she offered.
He looked between the three; "You'll have to keep completely quiet," he advised them and received their nods. "Okay, we'll meet you down in the studio."
Carmilla looked to her new friends; "You don't have to do this if you don't want to," she said as she got dressed; "It won't exactly be the most pleasant of confessions."
"This have something to do with the scars on your back?" Angela asked gently. Carmilla nodded and looked down. "We might only be new friends," Angela started as she placed a hand on Carmilla's shoulder and caused her to look up.
"But we are friends," Bec finished.
"Thanks guys," she said gratefully and pulled them into a hug. "When this over you're both invited to train at my gym," she told them as they parted; "All you have to worry about is your spending money, I'll cover everything else."
"You don't have to do that," Bec replied with a playful shove.
"I want to," she assured them, "after what you're about to hear?" She shrugged. "It's the least I can do." She straightened her Team Melendez jersey and ran her hands through her hair. "How do I look?"
"Like you're ready to take on the world," Angela said with a smile.
"Not the world," she admitted, "just the woman trying to end it."
Her two new friends shared a look but didn't comment as they followed her to the studio. She took her seat and waited patiently as the makeup crew did their best to hide the circles under her eyes.
She closed her eyes once they were done and tried to gather her thoughts; she'd only ever told anyone bits of her story and never the whole thing at once. She had many reasons, most having to do with the inevitable nightmares that followed. Which was another reason she wanted to get her confession over with; if she did suffer nightmares she'd have more time to overcome them before having to fight.
"Whenever you're ready Carmilla," the producer prodded.
She nodded and opened her eyes.
"My mother, my birth mother, died just before I turned three," she started. She and Laura had spent a lot of time practising, and as difficult as that had been, it paid off now. Because of her practice she was able to distance herself from the story she told, almost as though it happened to someone else, but that didn't last long, the quiet gasps and sniffs from the crew and her friends reminding her how truly horrific her past was. She looked to Bec and Angela for comfort and strength whenever she found herself wavering, their looks of disgust and anger adding enough fuel to finish her story.
"But I'm done being afraid," she said as her story come to its end. "My girlfriend, she told me before my weigh-ins with Rose, that someone should feel shame for the scars on my back but it shouldn't be me." She stared directly into the camera. "I fight so that someday I won't have to," she sighed. "I fight so that this fight that was given me, a fight that no one, let alone a child, should have to fight, can finally come to an end." She looked down and shook her head. "I'm done."
She felt hands on her shoulders, looked up and saw Bec and Angela at her side. She stood and let them pull her into a hug as the tears she'd been fighting for the last hour finally fell.
"You're stronger than you know," Angela assured her as she rubbed her back.
"I don't feel strong," she admitted as she pushed them away and wiped her nose. She looked to the producer, the only crew still left in the room and asked; "Got what you need?"
"We'll use as much of it as we can," she promised.
"Think maybe you can get the crew to back off for a few days?" she asked to the producer's surprise. "Talking about this," she shook her head, "I don't expect to be sleeping well for the next few nights and I don't want to snap at them for nothing."
"We'll still want to tape you when you visit with Laura but we'll keep our distance," she offered.
"Why?" Angela asked.
"Because it's good TV," Carmilla supplied. "Me, the big bad callous badass sitting alone, smoking a cigarette and crying because she misses her girlfriend?"
"It is compelling," the producer offered; "and it humanizes your story even more."
"Were you told to pay special attention to me?" Carmilla asked and wondered if the producer would answer honestly and was somewhat surprised when she nodded. "Well give me a few days to recuperate from this and I'll make it worth your while," she promised and motioned her friends out. She looked at her watch as they made their way back to their room; it wasn't even six yet. "I'm going to lay down for awhile," she told them as she collapsed on her bed.
"Want us to stick around?" Bec offered and sat down beside her.
"I should be okay," she said as she propped herself up on her elbows, "but maybe, if you guys want to, you can join me tonight?" Bec smiled and nodded. "I think we could all use a beer after that, don't you?" she joked and laid back down. "Besides, talking to the two of you about Laura will make great TV."
"Is that the only reason you're here?" Angela asked with an edge. "To get revenge on your stepmother?"
"You think I don't care about fighting? That I don't want to win?" she offered and they both nodded. "Maybe my reasons are different than yours, but trust me, I do want to win and I do enjoy fighting," she shrugged. "But yes, when Deanna is dealt with I'll probably retire," she propped herself back up again. "I like fighting, I do, but it's never been what I want to do with the rest of my life."
"And what do you want to do?" Bec asked.
"I don't know yet," she admitted with a laugh and laid back down, "all I know is I want to spend the rest of my life making Laura happy," she smiled as they chuckled and shook their heads. "No really, I've been so wrapped up in all this with my stepmother for so long that I've never really put much thought into what happens when it's over," she stifled a yawn. "Go, let me get some rest," she prodded, "I'll be fine," she assured them as they seemed reluctant to leave her alone.
"Okay," Bec answered and patted her thigh, "I'll come wake your around eight-thirty?"
"Thanks," she replied warmly, "and thanks for listening today."
"Thanks for trusting us," Angela said with a wink, "I can understand how that might be hard for you."
"I needed someone to lean on," Carmilla admitted; "just hope you guys know what you've signed up for."
"Nightmares?" Bec supplied and she nodded. "What do we do if we see you having one?"
"Wake me and, um, maybe hold me until I calm down?" she asked sheepishly.
"That bad?" Angela asked in concern.
"Sometimes," she admitted, "and this is probably the first time I've told the whole story at once."
"Okay," Angela looked to Bec, "I'll stay here, just in case, and we'll take turns overnight?" Bec nodded.
"You don't..." Carmilla tried to interrupt.
"Will you sleep better if you know someone is here in case you have a nightmare?" Bec countered.
"Maybe," she admitted.
"Then it's what we'll do," Angela said as she went to stretch out on her own bed. "You're our friend and team mate," she offered with a shrug, "we'll do what we can to help." She turned on her side to face her; "Besides," she continued; "I know when the time comes to tell my story I'm going to want a shoulder to lean on when it's over."
"Fair enough," Carmilla replied with another yawn; she was drained, both from the heat and from her confession. "I'm going to nap now," she informed them and turned her back to them to stare at a picture of Laura before closing her eyes.
Telling her story hadn't been easy, it never was, but at least she'd gotten it over with and now she could concentrate on the show itself. She'd told Bec and Angela the truth when she said she wanted to win even if she didn't admit why. If she managed to win all three of her fights leading up to the finale it would give the producers plenty of time to work in everything they'd just taped. As she drifted off she hoped it was enough.
