CHAPTER SIX
Warning:
Brief explicit scene ahead. May trigger abuse victims. I'd like to remind everyone that this story is rated "M" and that this will be the only time I re-warn of any dark content coming up as I expect those who are reading have already been warned by the "M" rating from the first click and by the theme of the story so far.
It seems that scrubbing one's skin raw doesn't actually help. Maybe psychologically it does - to some - the idea of grating skin in a methodical manner can be soothing. However, physically, the skin will eventually crack, tear and bleed.
Elena knows she is coping in an unhealthy manner. Because here she is, standing under the scorching hot spray of the shower, feeling like it can't get any hotter, both wanting and needing the burn. She's not stupid, she can identify the signs of mental instability such as the growing urge to tear out her own skin.
After he had left, the Wolverine – or was it James – or Logan? Elena doesn't know how to think of him yet. Oddly enough he is sort of nameless in her mind. When his limo had driven off, Laura's expression had fallen into something neutral and unblinking while Elena had sobbed into her bloody palms.
The pain and the hurting.
It's almost cathartic, Elena thinks
Hot water gets into her eyes and she blinks -
Her hands are bound above her head, tied to a pipe. One eye is swollen shut and the other can barely blink at the image of the man working over her, thrusting brutally into her dry flesh. He is holding her up, gripping her hips so hard, those cybernetic fingers digging - breaking.
"Fuck, you're one tight bitch, Elley." Pierce groaned into her neck, licking sweat and tears along her neck.
When she'd hit the floor earlier he beat her within an inch of her life. He'd done it with a wild excitement in his eyes, tearing off the rest of her clothes like some kind of rabid animal.
"You've been so fuckin' good to me, Elley, that I'm gonna give you a present."
No, she'd wanted to say but couldn't. Instead she moaned in agony. He'd taped her mouth shut again after beating her. It seemed that he liked hearing her cry out in pain but didn't want to hear her cry out in violation.
And she'd been so close to slipping into unconsciousness too.
Pierce changed the angle of his thrust, his blue eyes staring down at her horrified face with an intensity that caused bile to rise within her. But then something happened – something else. A new form of pain, something far worse than his violation of her body.
Like a flick of a switch, she suddenly orgasmed.
Elena blinks again and looks down at the purple bruises still marring her hips and rib cage. Her skin looks almost seared from the shower's heat.
She hates Pierce.
Certain things are bubbling up over the boiling surface of her emotions. Shame, for instance, is one that is surfacing, threatening her sanity.
Whatever's left of it, anyway.
She is medically trained. She has studied biology and bit of psychology. She knows she is a rape victim amongst a host of other things. She used to heal those victims in the hospital from her life before Transigen. Elena knows what is happening to her, what she is suffering. She knows she will have to live the rest of her life with what happened to her.
But, all the same, she hates that Pierce forced her body to a near mindless feeling of pleasure so intense she'd passed out after.
I am going crazy, Elena thinks while staring at her water stained, wrinkled fingers.
Running on autopilot for so long has its consequences. Acts of desperation too.
Like voluntarily touching the Wolverine.
She'd been terrified the entire time, the wrath on his face and rage in his eyes. Then he'd almost crushed her shoulders when he lifted her up to shake her.
Elena is trembling from the memory of it. She trembles at the phantom touch of his deadly hands on her arms. The way he'd looked at her.
There is a strange tingling sensation that blooms from between her legs and she struggles to contain her scream of helpless frustration.
Sick. Just sick.
Elena cries in the shower, not understanding why her body is feeling this way, and the shame boils over.
I'm fucked up, she thinks.
Perhaps it is the years of confinement that has her body spiraling out of control. She doesn't know. Too many years spent sleeping next to a child or in the nurse's quarters with other lonely, terrified women. Intimacy and pleasure had been something like a dream, a figment from her past. Something she barely thought of because when she did, she dissolved into grief.
The last time she'd had sex was with a nice Mexican man she'd met and had just begun dating after her arrival in town. Jorje, had been his name. That last time before - before Pierce - had been slow and shy. She wasn't very experienced to begin with but Jorje seemed to know how to deal with her nervousness and the result had rewarded them both with something akin to tenderness.
Sex with someone you cared about, someone you chose, is what Elena's moral code had been brought up with. It is what she is familiar with.
No longer, it seems.
It's not your fault, she reminds herself, eyes closed and breathing in the shower's hot steam.
She decides to stop thinking about it, to close that part of her mind again. Put a lid on the boiling pot of memories bubbling over.
So she runs on autopilot again, something that is both familiar and comforting. She eventually exits the shower, dries her hair, eyes only grazing over healing wounds and bruises - bite marks along her breasts - and combs her long hair.
I am fine, she thinks.
I am fine. fine. fine. fine. fine - -
Somewhere over the Tex-Mex border, in the pitch black of night, a tear slides down Charles Xavier's wrinkled cheek.
"Poor girl," he whispers to no one in particular.
When Elena finally crawls into bed next to Laura it is past three in the morning. She gathers the sleeping girl in her arms and this time it is she, the adult, gripping the child desperately like a lifeline.
Laura is her anchor.
But she still struggles to sleep because her eyes are trained on the clock. Only a few more hours before they're out of here. Finally. She comforts herself by thinking of the girl's father as their means of safety and escape - nothing else beyond that.
The moment her eyes shut and sleep overtakes her, Laura's open. The girl's eyes are bright and glazed with tears. None fall but there is a dawn of understanding in those dark, young eyes.
Elena is awakened by Laura who is white faced, mouth set in a tight line. Her eyes immediately glance at the clock.
10:02 a.m.
She can't remember the last time she'd slept in so late.
"He's coming."
At first, Elena thinks of the Wolverine but receives a dawning suspicion of horror at Laura's pale expression.
"...Pierce?"
The child nods, sniffing the air. "He's close."
Elena weighs her options but there is only one option, really.
"Listen to me," Elena grabs Laura, hauling the girl in front of her. "You have to hide. Hide and wait for your father to come back at noon."
But the child is already shaking her head and Elena wants to scream.
"Laura, remember what you promised me?" She is banking on the fact that Laura understands that promises are meant to be kept. At least the concept of it.
Laura begins to growl but Elena has dealt with tantrums before, even the child's violent ones.
"If you don't hide and Pierce finds us together then we're both as good as dead!" She hates raising her voice, especially to Laura. She's normally a very soft spoken person.
"Charles says he'll help us!" Elena's eyes widen at the sudden outburst. "He says we should hide together."
She is incredulous, looking at the girl. "Laura, this is not a game - "
"Mama," the word is a growl coming from the child. "Please! Charles - "
Elena has just about had it with this "Charles" and is going to tell Laura just so. Their lives are in danger.
"Charles says we need to hide until...until he gets here!"
Of course Laura doesn't know what to call the Wolverine. Elena has been the only one to ever refer to him as the girl's "father". But Laura is old enough and smart enough to be hesitant about it, having never had a father figure in her life. To this day, Elena's not even really sure if the girl knows that she's not her biological mother. She likes to believe Laura already knows.
Don't think of that now, Elena shoves those thoughts away.
"W-What do you mean?" Elena is going to give Laura less than a minute to explain before she drags the girl away to a safe corner.
And so Elena listens, with a horrific kind of comprehension, that this "Charles" is an actual person who has been speaking to Laura telepathically. He is, in fact, an elderly mutant named -
Charles Xavier.
Elena is shocked.
The shock doesn't wear off, it is simply put on hold.
Laura's details are so specific that Elena has no choice but to believe her. And if this is really Professor Charles Xavier then the Wolverine - Logan - the old telepath must know the truth of who and what the girl really is.
She listens to Laura's instructions, throwing away the old plan of sacrificing herself in order to hide Laura and taking the thread of hope tossed in their direction. She packs their one backpack quickly, takes Laura's hand and runs to the reception desk on the other side of the property. She tells the red haired woman manager at the desk that she and her daughter are checking out. The woman glares at them but asks nosily if they're going home to which Elena replies yes, to California, in fact.
What they do instead is probably one of the most anxiety-ridden moments of Elena's life.
They hide within plain sight of the Reavers who come like clockwork thirty minutes after and Elena has to suffer hearing Pierce's voice as he harasses the red haired woman in the parking lot, eventually signaling his men to break down her motel door. All the while they are across the street sitting on a bench facing the opposite direction as if they're waiting for the next bus. Laura is lying across the bench with her head in her lap, like any tired child snuggling against a parent after a day in the park. From this vantage point, one could only see a woman and an overweight man sitting at the bench's edge. A few people are milling about waiting for the bus and, for the most part, no one turns around to see the commotion going on at the shady motel across the street.
It feels like an eternity but she eventually hears the Reavers leave.
The time it takes for Elena's body to start moving again after having been frozen to the bench feels even longer.
When they spot Logan's limo drive up, Elena struggles not to tear down the street with Laura. But Charles was specific with his instructions. There is no time for explanation and the Wolverine would be demanding them which would put them in further danger of lost time and possibly their lives.
When he exits the limo they break into the trunk using Laura's claws. Elena tosses the girl in and then climbs in after.
She knows what he will find in the motel, what conclusions he may come to. In the darkness, they hear his harried steps and the shutting of the driver's door and then they are off, together, unbeknownst to him.
Author's Note: A few things to explain - the blood and tears that Logan smells in the previous chapter is old blood from Elena's wounds and crying. Also, the messed up room he sees when he gets to the motel are from Pierce and his men ransacking it after Laura and Elena hide but before Logan arrives.
I'm going to reiterate what I wrote in response to a reviewer - that I'd received enough PM's and a few random reviews where I felt that some readers had certain expectations for my OC that I would ultimately be unable to satisfy. I can understand the demand for more Logan centric fanfics right after seeing the movie, this story is evidence of what happened after I watched it. I realized no one would write the story I had circulating in my mind so I decided to write it myself and this is how I am able to satisfy my search/expectations after realizing it could take months before a decently written Logan fanfic finally comes around.
So I just wanted to make things clear to avoid disappointment that Elena will not turn out to be some type of skilled fighter resembling a super heroine. I don't want to venture into Mary Sue territory and am trying to avoid that as much as possible - hence the realism factor which include various traumas such as post traumatic stress disorder, anxiety and depression, rape and suicide. Those are all very real issues in the world we live in. It would be nice to have super powers and be super strong to fend off bad guys, but that's not the real world. Even though this is just a fanfic based on a "realistic" super hero movie, I want the characters to be relatable to myself and the readers as much as possible. If I can achieve that then I'm a happy writer! :)