A/N: I swear to God, I know how to capitalize proper nouns. This chapter is
not for the blood squeamish. Also, I don't want to hear any flak about a
certain mythical-creature-turned-name-of-a-knife-blade. It will all make
sense in the end.
"Shift's up, Fielding. Get out of here. And have a good weekend."
Cora wiped her hands on her filthy apron, tugged the soiled thing over her head, and tossed it in the pile near the employee exit. Thank the Lord she wasn't on wash duty.
Outside, the air was twenty degrees colder and a great deal thinner than in the Sunny Side cafe. The evening bustle of Baltimore throbbed all the way to her bones, the 8:00 traffic just heating up after the post- work lull. The Sunny Side was just a block and a half away from Baltimore's downtown district, and Cora could almost feel the seedy itch of the steady-growing nightlife. Her car was parked in the lot across the street, a dark, tinmetal forest of great hulking shapes. Everything seemed monstrous lately.
Cora did not see the figure standing next to her car. She was too pre- occupied with digging for her keys. It wasn't until she felt a hand on her shoulder that she realized she was not alone. A scream bubbled in her chest and she stumbled backward, ready to strike blindly at whatever thing had transcended morbid imagination to become a real danger.
"Jesus, babe! It's me!"
"GOD DAMNIT, DAVE!" Cora screeched, pummeling him with a fist. "Don't ever, EVER do that to me again!"
"Sorry! I thought you saw me. I was standing right-"
"If I had seen you, I'd have said 'Oh, hello there, Dave.' You almost gave me a fucking heart attack." Cora leaned against her car, a safe distance away, her pulse pounding bullets in her throat.
"I'm sorry!" Dave reached in to give her a hug, which she accepted, albeit stiffly and with little return. He stepped back, hands on her shoulders, a funny little smirk courting his lips. "I'll give you a heads up next time, I swear."
"Good," Cora replied, lifting her chin in mild defiance. To her surprise, she was still trembling. "So, what were you doing, besides waiting to scare me half to death?"
"I'm taking you out tonight." He proclaimed, rather proudly, as if this ''taking out'' was some new and exciting thing he'd discovered.
"No way. I'm exhau-"
"Before you lay down all your reasons, let me talk." He interrupted, holding a hand up to shush her. "You've had a long week, babe. I just want to go out, have a few drinks, eat, dance a little and then I'll take you home. Nothing major. You need to relax."
"And I think the best way to do that would be in a bathtub, or on the couch with my cat." She snipped back, rather surreptitiously.
"When's the last time you went out on a Friday night, Cora? Honestly."
He had her there. It had been months. Her summers were spent working for her father, and since school started, every weekend had been devoted to studying. She could not remember the last time she did anything...fun. A drink didn't sound so bad. In fact, it sounded rather appealing. She glanced up at Dave, his handsome features pulled down into a ridiculous pout. A surge of power trickled down her spine, and she nodded.
"All right. But don't expect me to be entertaining."
...*...
"Don't you think that's enough, toots?" The bartender asked, his voice loud and harsh over the music. Cora shrugged and tottered to one side, stumbling backward into Dave's arms. In an unseen gesture, he held up a finger to indicate one more. The bartender shrugged and shoved Cora's seventh shot of tequilla across the counter.
"My tongue is numb!" Cora screeched, and then raised her shotglass in a partnerless toast. Dave laughed and turned her around to look at him. She squinted; first with one eye, and then the other. Then she grinned and threw her arms around his neck, her weight shifted so that she dangled like a puppet.
"What ya wanna do, babe?" Dave asked, staring down at her, amazed that her eyes were still as clear as honey. She cocked her head to the side and sighed, her breath blasting liquor fumes. This display should have been unnerving, or at the least a turn off. For Dave, it was neither.
"I wanna go home. You have to come, too, okay?" Her grip tightened, and she seemed almost frantic for a moment. "Okay? You come, okay?"
"Of course, baby. Ready to go now?"
"Uh huh." Cora nodded and straightened up, hovering with one arm on the bar as Dave pushed a twenty across the table to pay for their tab. Then he scooped Cora up, and in a disturbingly childlike manor, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck.
Once back at the house, Cora carreened around the kitched in a futile attempt to make coffee. Dave continually insisted that while the gesture was appreciated, it was unneccesary. This only fueled Cora's efforts further, at least until she spilled boiling water on her arm and dissolved into a mess of tears.
"Poor Baby, poor little girl. Come here." Dave collected the drunk, sobbing girl into his arms and raised her wrist to his lips. Cora stopped crying at once and watched, transfixed, as he placed a soft, gentle kiss on the red flamed skin.
It all seemed natural, then, when his mouth traveled the length of her arm and trailed her neck. Cora felt hot and prickly, like someone was poking her from within. His hands roamed her back, he found her lips, and she was unable to do anything. He kissed her, his mouth demanding and harsh, his fingers quick to wriggle under her shirt and beneath the waistband of her jeans. Everything was happening so fast..and..it felt good, didn't it?
He had her pressed against the counter, her spine painfully aligned with the formica edge. A hand on her naked thigh now, his fingers grazing the raised, crisscrossed scars with nothing more than minimal thought given to their origin.
NonononononononoIdon'tlikethatnono
"You're so beautiful, Cora.." Dave seethed, his breath hot against her ear. His fingers were where they should not be. Ever. Never ever.
"Stop!" Cora screamed, pushing mightily with her hands. Dave stepped back, his eyes clouded and dark and full of storm. Cora's vision swam and she felt her knees go from weak to completely insufficient. "Go! Get out! Leave me alone!''
He took another step back, dumbfounded.
"Fucking tease." He spat.
"Go away!" Cora wailed, sinking to the floor. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed, rocking back and forth, back and forth. When she looked up again, Dave was gone.
On her hands and knees ( because her legs did not work ) Cora dragged herself into the bedroom, her pants half sliding off and her shirt hanging from one shoulder. She fumbled through her nightstand drawer, tears and mascara and old, old pain choking her from the inside out. Her hand clasped the familiar object and she breathed a preliminary sigh of relief through the veil of panic and desperation.
The Harpy's curved blade was always sharp.
She was strangely calm as she dragged the point across her skin, watching as flesh split, an empty furrow soon slick with vindicating scarlet. One, two, Three. Four. Five. Shame and guilt and fear trickled down her thighs, little red dots coalescing on the hardwood floor.
She faintly, vaguely, barely remembered Grandpa brandishing the knife and using it to slice the cold, wriggly bellies of fish he caught on the lake. When he died, the weapon had lay unused until Cora's Discovery.
But that was far back, caught in the spiderwebs of forgetting. Now she had the heat of absolution grinning up from her blood-streaked leg.
The knife clattered to the floor and Cora leaned against the bed, her muscles slack and her hands trembling. A sick, satisfied smile spread across her lips.
At least something still worked.
"Shift's up, Fielding. Get out of here. And have a good weekend."
Cora wiped her hands on her filthy apron, tugged the soiled thing over her head, and tossed it in the pile near the employee exit. Thank the Lord she wasn't on wash duty.
Outside, the air was twenty degrees colder and a great deal thinner than in the Sunny Side cafe. The evening bustle of Baltimore throbbed all the way to her bones, the 8:00 traffic just heating up after the post- work lull. The Sunny Side was just a block and a half away from Baltimore's downtown district, and Cora could almost feel the seedy itch of the steady-growing nightlife. Her car was parked in the lot across the street, a dark, tinmetal forest of great hulking shapes. Everything seemed monstrous lately.
Cora did not see the figure standing next to her car. She was too pre- occupied with digging for her keys. It wasn't until she felt a hand on her shoulder that she realized she was not alone. A scream bubbled in her chest and she stumbled backward, ready to strike blindly at whatever thing had transcended morbid imagination to become a real danger.
"Jesus, babe! It's me!"
"GOD DAMNIT, DAVE!" Cora screeched, pummeling him with a fist. "Don't ever, EVER do that to me again!"
"Sorry! I thought you saw me. I was standing right-"
"If I had seen you, I'd have said 'Oh, hello there, Dave.' You almost gave me a fucking heart attack." Cora leaned against her car, a safe distance away, her pulse pounding bullets in her throat.
"I'm sorry!" Dave reached in to give her a hug, which she accepted, albeit stiffly and with little return. He stepped back, hands on her shoulders, a funny little smirk courting his lips. "I'll give you a heads up next time, I swear."
"Good," Cora replied, lifting her chin in mild defiance. To her surprise, she was still trembling. "So, what were you doing, besides waiting to scare me half to death?"
"I'm taking you out tonight." He proclaimed, rather proudly, as if this ''taking out'' was some new and exciting thing he'd discovered.
"No way. I'm exhau-"
"Before you lay down all your reasons, let me talk." He interrupted, holding a hand up to shush her. "You've had a long week, babe. I just want to go out, have a few drinks, eat, dance a little and then I'll take you home. Nothing major. You need to relax."
"And I think the best way to do that would be in a bathtub, or on the couch with my cat." She snipped back, rather surreptitiously.
"When's the last time you went out on a Friday night, Cora? Honestly."
He had her there. It had been months. Her summers were spent working for her father, and since school started, every weekend had been devoted to studying. She could not remember the last time she did anything...fun. A drink didn't sound so bad. In fact, it sounded rather appealing. She glanced up at Dave, his handsome features pulled down into a ridiculous pout. A surge of power trickled down her spine, and she nodded.
"All right. But don't expect me to be entertaining."
...*...
"Don't you think that's enough, toots?" The bartender asked, his voice loud and harsh over the music. Cora shrugged and tottered to one side, stumbling backward into Dave's arms. In an unseen gesture, he held up a finger to indicate one more. The bartender shrugged and shoved Cora's seventh shot of tequilla across the counter.
"My tongue is numb!" Cora screeched, and then raised her shotglass in a partnerless toast. Dave laughed and turned her around to look at him. She squinted; first with one eye, and then the other. Then she grinned and threw her arms around his neck, her weight shifted so that she dangled like a puppet.
"What ya wanna do, babe?" Dave asked, staring down at her, amazed that her eyes were still as clear as honey. She cocked her head to the side and sighed, her breath blasting liquor fumes. This display should have been unnerving, or at the least a turn off. For Dave, it was neither.
"I wanna go home. You have to come, too, okay?" Her grip tightened, and she seemed almost frantic for a moment. "Okay? You come, okay?"
"Of course, baby. Ready to go now?"
"Uh huh." Cora nodded and straightened up, hovering with one arm on the bar as Dave pushed a twenty across the table to pay for their tab. Then he scooped Cora up, and in a disturbingly childlike manor, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck.
Once back at the house, Cora carreened around the kitched in a futile attempt to make coffee. Dave continually insisted that while the gesture was appreciated, it was unneccesary. This only fueled Cora's efforts further, at least until she spilled boiling water on her arm and dissolved into a mess of tears.
"Poor Baby, poor little girl. Come here." Dave collected the drunk, sobbing girl into his arms and raised her wrist to his lips. Cora stopped crying at once and watched, transfixed, as he placed a soft, gentle kiss on the red flamed skin.
It all seemed natural, then, when his mouth traveled the length of her arm and trailed her neck. Cora felt hot and prickly, like someone was poking her from within. His hands roamed her back, he found her lips, and she was unable to do anything. He kissed her, his mouth demanding and harsh, his fingers quick to wriggle under her shirt and beneath the waistband of her jeans. Everything was happening so fast..and..it felt good, didn't it?
He had her pressed against the counter, her spine painfully aligned with the formica edge. A hand on her naked thigh now, his fingers grazing the raised, crisscrossed scars with nothing more than minimal thought given to their origin.
NonononononononoIdon'tlikethatnono
"You're so beautiful, Cora.." Dave seethed, his breath hot against her ear. His fingers were where they should not be. Ever. Never ever.
"Stop!" Cora screamed, pushing mightily with her hands. Dave stepped back, his eyes clouded and dark and full of storm. Cora's vision swam and she felt her knees go from weak to completely insufficient. "Go! Get out! Leave me alone!''
He took another step back, dumbfounded.
"Fucking tease." He spat.
"Go away!" Cora wailed, sinking to the floor. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed, rocking back and forth, back and forth. When she looked up again, Dave was gone.
On her hands and knees ( because her legs did not work ) Cora dragged herself into the bedroom, her pants half sliding off and her shirt hanging from one shoulder. She fumbled through her nightstand drawer, tears and mascara and old, old pain choking her from the inside out. Her hand clasped the familiar object and she breathed a preliminary sigh of relief through the veil of panic and desperation.
The Harpy's curved blade was always sharp.
She was strangely calm as she dragged the point across her skin, watching as flesh split, an empty furrow soon slick with vindicating scarlet. One, two, Three. Four. Five. Shame and guilt and fear trickled down her thighs, little red dots coalescing on the hardwood floor.
She faintly, vaguely, barely remembered Grandpa brandishing the knife and using it to slice the cold, wriggly bellies of fish he caught on the lake. When he died, the weapon had lay unused until Cora's Discovery.
But that was far back, caught in the spiderwebs of forgetting. Now she had the heat of absolution grinning up from her blood-streaked leg.
The knife clattered to the floor and Cora leaned against the bed, her muscles slack and her hands trembling. A sick, satisfied smile spread across her lips.
At least something still worked.