Chapter 4
Thanks again for the reviews (and flames!), and some interesting ideas especially Joulianna and Kat (I'll plug you later Jou) you might see one or two appear in the next couple of chapters! Also one or two things I've been thinking about using for a while and have never had the chance...
Dying is easy; it's living that scares me to death.
~Annie Lennox
Adam marvelled once again at the ferals' healing ability. It had been barely a week and already most of the evidence of Shalimar's physical trauma had disappeared. The protective blistering was healing and being reabsorbed and, thanks in part to the machine, the largest sign that remained was the line of white scar tissue that ran across her stomach and the reddened skin that surrounded it.
The mental trauma, on the other hand, was still very much obvious. Expecting her usual jovial complaints when he asked her to stay in bed a day longer, he received only quiet acceptance. She had not moved from the bed since the night they had arrived home and it disturbed him that she wasn't more eager to move from it. And even now, when she was allowed up and about, that she followed his request to take it easy by sitting motionless hour after hour on the platform overlooking Sanctuary's main hall worried him greatly.
She had talked at length with Emma, answering all of her questions as best she could. But all of Emma's attempts to offer council had been met with rebuttal, either changing the subject or simply ignoring her completely.
Emma finally reached a breaking point that evening, standing and marching away, shouting back "If you wont help me Shalimar, there's no way I can help you." She was secretly hoping and praying for a response, a shout, a yell, even a right-here right-now bitch fight would have been preferable to what she received. Silence, nothing. Shalimar didn't even appear to be paying attention as Emma walked away. Adam looked on, shaking his head quietly. This wouldn't do. He had to talk to Jesse and Brennan.
Jesse sat beside Shalimar with a soft sigh. She glanced up at his as he sat and he tried not to notice how much she had tensed.
"This is hurting her, Shal." He began quietly.
"I'm sorry." She whispered morosely.
"I don't need your apology. I know why you're doing it." She looked up at that. "You're trying to protect her," he continued. "You think that if you open up to her she'll either remember it herself or she'll experience it through what you're feeling, what you felt."
"I don't want to put her through that Jesse. It hurts so badly, I don't want her to have to live with this."
"Don't you think she has a right to choose? If she doesn't know she might never get closure on his. You know what happened and you can get over it. She doesn't and it could haunt her."
"I've told her what happened. Blow by..." She flinched. "I've told her everything I remember."
"And what if that isn't enough?" She looked down at her dangling feet for a moment and then back up at her oldest friend.
"What if I'm ashamed of my emotions?"
Brennan found Emma pacing up and down her room like a trapped animal would a cage, dark smudges under her eyes where mascara had run and streaked her face. He watched from the doorway until she looked up - noticing him absently.
"If you were hoping for some kind of response it didn't work. She's still sat out there. She's talking to Jesse."
"At least she's still talking."
"What do you mean?"
"She's talking about what happened, but... she's not there, there's no emotion in what she's saying. It's like talking to a brick wall."
"You think it would be better for her if she relived the experience emotionally?"
"No, of course not. But she needs to get it out somehow."
"Can I tell you what I think?"
"What do you think?" She asked with a small smile.
"That she's hiding her emotions because she doesn't want you to experience it, she's protecting you." Emma looked down for a moment, thoughtful.
"But..."
"And do you know what else I think?" He interrupted. "I think the main reason you want her to open up is to feel those emotions. You want to see it through her eyes, so you don't feel so lost." She gaped for a moment, twice going to argue with him and both times stopping herself.
"Does she think I can't handle it? Is that it?" She managed eventually, her anger finally emerging.
"Emma, think about it. Would you ever purposefully put someone through that kind of experience? Especially someone you cared for."
"But I want to know, Brennan. I need to know."
"You might not remember what happened through your eyes, can you take Shalimar's experience as second best?"
"I need to know." She repeated.
"Then you need to go and talk to Shalimar. Stop trying to trick her into opening up, tell her what you want to do. Explain to her. She might not be willing to show you how she felt. It might be something she wants to forget herself and she doesn't want to relive it. You have to ask her."
They sat together beside the meditation pool. Making sure they were both OK, Adam moved away to avoid interfering with what was to take place. Emma smiled at Shalimar, breathing a little easier when the gesture was reciprocated. Even simply by talking to her about what she wanted to do Emma had felt Shalimar loosen a little of the grip she had on her emotions, a slight feed of fear and sadness reached her when she opened herself to the feral. Neither emotion was good, but at least they were free emotions, not contained ones.
"When you're ready." She whispered to Shalimar, closing her eyes and focusing her power on the blond presence in front of her.
The first emotion to present itself to her was anger, it flooded into her mind pure with few barriers. Three faces flashed before her eyes and something in her recognised all three, though faintly. One face appeared again, this time accompanied by a much more primal emotion, fear. His face was replaced by an image of a pure white flame. And that flame grew and grew until all else was hidden, pain and terror filling her thoughts with a white noise that made any other thought impossible. When that light finally faded it was replaced by an emotion so alien to her it took her some time to recognise it.
Submission. A terror and sadness that knew the answer to any order would be yes.
Another face appeared to her and she was confused to see that it was not one of the three. A hand reached out and pushed her down onto a bed, and the face changed, and the hand. Another hand pushed her down, rougher this time. And faces and faces and faces, one after another, again and again. Pushing her, cuffing her, hitting her, touching her. Touching her everywhere, no restraint, and no one to hold them back. All the time there was the pain and the anger and the sadness, such sadness and shame.
The grins of pleasure as a rush of adrenaline caused feral eyes to appear, and her shame because she knew that this was the show that they had come for.
And then there was a dark room, devoid of emotion. So empty it felt like a vacuum, sucking away the parts of you that feel. Stopping all emotions where they stood. And, like a symbol of death, there was only peace, an overwhelming promise of peace.
Emma felt Shalimar drag away from her, the line stretching between them until she broke it, releasing them both. She looked up. Shalimar was pale, her breathing shallow, her eyes wide.
"There were more than three men there, Shalimar."
"No Emma, there were only three." She managed as she fought the rise of bile.
"But I saw... so many faces. There were so many faces. Too many to count, and all of them..." Shalimar closed her eyes, trying to stay conscious. Emma was almost hysterical when Shalimar, finally loosing control, vomited what little she had eaten and passed out.
