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Title: Plastic
Disclaimer: The characters, plotlines and etc. of Passions belong to the people at NBC.
Summary: The hunters lie in wait, stalking their prey. Bethfic.
A/N: This was going to be Buis, almost turned into Bethlie, and wound up being AUish Beth genfic. Go figure.
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"PLASTIC"
The slow shifting of time had happened so gradually, so deliberately over the recent years, that Beth Wallace can longer distinguish the last time she was truly happy.
Back when she didn't feel so empty, or phony. When she didn't feel so. . .plastic.
She blames this gaping maw of inadequacy - which is deep inside her soul where a conscience might be - on Sheridan Crane.
If she just put everything on Sheridan, it would make getting rid of her that much easier.
And that is what she was going to do.
And that is how she wound up in this predicament - with an unstable Charlie nipping at her heels like a faithful - yet completely mentally unhinged - lapdog.
- - -
Beth slips the plastic mask over her face, and as she does, crosses the invisible line - that one that siginifies the point of no return.
Because that's what it is, really.
It's the point of no return, and Beth has crossed it. Perhaps, if she had just refused Charlie's ridiculous clown costume, maybe just maybe she could have been saved.
But when Beth slipped on the plastic mask, the little bit of good inside her had lost, and evil won out.
Now, Beth and Charlie are hiding in the shadows outside Sheridan and Antonio's home, crouched in darkness, knives in their hands.
". . .thought we were only going to scare her," Beth mutters, mostly to herself, tugging on the uncomfortable polyester collar of her costume. ". . .didn't think we were actually going to kill her."
"We're not going to kill her right away, Bethie," Charlie whispers back, across the small empty space between them. "No, no, not right away. We'll make her suffer. We'll make her pay, we'll make that blonde bitch pay, Bethie. Oh, how we'll make her pay."
Beth forces away the bubble of indecision in the pit of her stomach. She'd already crossed the point of no return when she put on the stupid plastic mask. There *was* no turning back now.
Nowhere to run.
She can hear voices now. They sound like Antonio and Sheridan, returning home from another of their many doctor's appointments.
". . .oh, I'm so happy," Beth hears Antonio gush, and for a millisecond, she pities him for being so blind and stupid to what his precious Sheridan really is. "I can't believe we're going to have our own little girl. It was so touching of you to suggest we name her after my brother. He's going to be so proud."
Beth sighs, her breath fogging the plastic in front of her face.
"Luisa is going to be a spoiled little girl," Sheridan agrees, lamely, exhibiting no enthusiasm whatsoever.
Beth feels Charlie's hand on her shoulder, shaking. "Now, Bethie, now we do it."
"I thought it was only going to be Sheridan! Antonio wasn't supposed to be here," Beth whispers back, "I don't want to hurt Antonio!"
"They're *both* in the way," hisses Charlie, squeezing Beth's shoulder tightly. "They are both in the way, between you and Luis, and they both need to be silenced."
"You're insane," Beth snarls back.
Charlie lets out a low, throaty laugh. "I know that, Bethie! Now, let's do it! Once we get the blonde bimbo, all our problems will be solved! Do it!" Charlie presses the knife into Beth's palm.
- - -
She's at the fringes of hell; she can hear the demons calling her name now.
'Jump over the edge,' they urge, 'just do it, and allyour prayers will be answered! Do it!'
- - -
Beth draws her arm back, holding her elbow close to her waist - or where he waist would have been, on the stupid clown suit.
- - -
She can feel the flames of hell licking at her spine.
She clutches the wooden handle of the kitchen knife sot tightly in her hand, that splinters dig into the fleshy part of her palm.
Beth does not feel the pain.
She can see the demons now. Small, squat, nasty little things with cloven hooves and red, bifurcated tails, hissing.
She can taste the sulphur in the air, and the smell of burning flesh clouds her senses, drawing tears.
- - -
Beth pushes the knife forward, but it feels like she's moving through quicksand, and her arm feels heavy, so heavy.
Sheridas screams at the sight of the two clowns, wielding their knives.
Beth forces herself onto her precious Luis's spoiled blonde mistress, holding the knife close to her throat. "Your time is up, Sheridan," Beth growls, in a low, throaty snarl, "you're mine now."
Sheridan reaches out a trembling hand and grabs the corner of the plastic mask.
- - -
the end.
a/n: left the ending open and ambiguous. . .*shrug* you can decide for yourself what happens to Sheridan and the baby *shrug*
~ just alex