Chapter 18 Open Wounds
"And you can't stop me from falling apart
Cause my self-destruction is all your fault
How could you, how could you, how could you hate me?
When all I ever wanted to be was you?
How could you, how could you, how could you love me?
When all you ever gave me were open wounds?"- Open Wounds, Skillet
Haupman was still not back. The police had managed to contact him and receive confirmation that he was away on a case for the F.B.I. She still needed to go and check in once in a while, take some tests he left behind to monitor her or so the assistant claimed. She knew it was a façade. But couldn't do anything. If she was going to prove the man was a criminal she needed evidence. So she tried to snoop during those visits. The assistant would watch her never leaving the room unless the phone rang or somebody knocked on the door. The only thing she managed to find out was the man's address.
But she couldn't search it. Not allowed to leave without supervision. However that did not seem to apply when it came to leaving her alone in apartment for hours. School was the only time she might be able to get away for a few hours but she would transportation. Eliot did come up as an option but he was hardly at school these days.
Claire was slowly adjusting to the new way of life. For the most time Alex stayed in her room. Conversations were few. But it stopped feeling awkward, well mostly. She did notice a few more things. First were the book, she kept getting new ones from somewhere. The empty shelf was not so empty anymore. A new book on it almost every time she went in. She did check the room from time to time. It almost made Claire feel guilty but she did check her computer. Nothing aside from school tasks, and book purchases. She knew that if she was plotting something it would probably not be on here. But aside from school and the sessions with the doctor and occasional visits to the hospital, she didn't take Alex anywhere else. The school was a possibility, but it would be a problema to search it without a warrant. She had her suspicions about the strange outbreak of flue that happened in the school. Even stranger was how everyone suddenly recovered in a matter of hours, even those that didn't received any antibiotics. It's like the virus just expired on its own. The doctors never seen anything like this. She would have needed a lab to make something like this. The old Umbrella facility was under watch. But the Overseer was clever.
One thing that she did lament was how Barry began avoiding her. Looking at her differently, after she took her in. He had been a close friend for a long time and now it was as if she was enemy to him now. With Chris of to god knows where this made her feel isolated, alone. Moira came to visit sometimes. But she was busy with work for Terrasave. Claire missed work. Babysitting Alex was technically work, but she missed going to work, seeing her coworkers. She did make trips to HQ to report but it wasn't the same. Besides, Alex didn't give her much to report.
However there was something. It gave her hope that perhaps the woman was starting to trust her a little. Returning from the gym, she needed to work off all that pizza somehow, she was surprised to find the smell of food filling the apartment. Even more surprised to find Alex in the kitchen. She must have been standing there dumbfounded for quite a while.
"You don't expect me survive on that junk you keep ordering?"
"Honestly, I'm surprised you can cook. I thought you had your servants prepare everything for you." Claire said.
She laughs.
"Spencer did, but that curtesy was not extended to the rest of us. "
"Did your mother teach you?" She asked, hoping she could get the woman to talk.
"No. I learned in collage."
"Your collage had cooking classes?" She says, swiping a tiny tomato from the salad.
"Not that I'm aware of. I learned myself. Not much of a choice really when hawing to live of a scholarship. "
"You could have gotten work."
"I was twelve" she said with a sigh.
Claire tried to remember what she did when she was twelve. Going to middle school, getting into a fight with some boys. Chris taught her how to fight and stand up for herself. He also came to school and beat up some kid that bullied her. But few years later she ended up dating him for a while. She watched cartoons and admired superheroes. Still very much a kid.
"Wow." was all she managed to say.
The food was actually good. She did briefly consider there being something in the food.
"Don't worry, Redfield, I didn't poison it."
Claire wanted to say she never expected her to but decided to say nothing.
"How did you get all this?" she asked
"Ever heard of delivery services? The receipt's on the counter. "
"Right."
There was indeed a receipt from a delivery service. There was no ground to believe she broke the rules and left the apartment. Considering Alex was eating the same food, and finished making it in front of Claire, this not a murder attempt either. This was the first time they had a meal in the same room. Claire wondered if this was her way of returning the favor. Or perhaps she was sick of Claire ordering junk food. Either way she ended up enjoying it. This was something she would have expected to eat a restaurant. Fish with wine sauce and vegetables. The wine was good too. A colleague had given her a bottle but Claire wasn't much of a wine drinker and just forgot about it. She watched Alex drink, elegantly holding the glass, another gift she never used. It was almost hypnotizing. Claire avoided high class places because they always made her feel awkward, the dresses, too many different forks, feeling like everyone was looking at her like she didn't belong, ordering the wrong wine with dish. Alex definitely fit in with that setting. It made her forget for a while that she was currently inhabiting the body of a fifteen year old girl.
"You know you're not old to enough to drink?" Claire said
"I'm older than you." She says, a sly smile on lips.
"Technically, you're not."
"That only matters if somebody else finds out." She says.
Claire sighs, gives in. She does have a point. It was difficult to explain to the child protection services after the incident in the hospital. While Natalia is biologically fifteen the person inhabiting her body was a woman in her fifties. Eventually they decided to treat her based on her biological age, making her a minor. But Alex made it easy to forget that little fact.
She was certain that Redfield was trying to manipulate her. But she could at least pretend to be returning the favor. Making the woman think her attempts were working. And she was honestly tired of burgers and pizza and the crap they tried to pass for salad in those places. Part of her did wonder if the woman was being genuine, but that would be too much to hope for. But every time she woke up curled up with a book to find the lights off and a blanket on her, she wondered. It reminded her of him. How he used to do it for her when she fell asleep working overnight or reading in the break room. She missed that. Having someone who cared for her.
Maybe it was the wine, she wasn't sure. Half the night was truly blissful sleep but then when it started to turn morning the dreams got strange and horrific. There was fire. a city drowned in flames. She was falling from the sky. Falling into it. The fall didn't hurt. She was on her feet in a crossroad. Then they began emerging from all sides. Burning, black, charred bodies. Walking, moaning. Undead. They surround her. No escape. The heat, the smoke is suffocating. The tens of arms holding her down, digging into her flesh, the weight of them crushing her as they rip into her.
She had this particular dream before. But it was becoming more frequent. Almost nightly. She wakes up with her heart pounding in her chest, cold sweat on her skin. The covers wrapped around her, tangled and sticking to her. It's a nightmare. But she wonder's it if means anything. She has been having it more often. Slowly she gets up, untangles the sheets. Goes to shower. The warm water feels comforting. The feeling of helplessness and dread remains. She knows it's probably nothing, just her mind representing her situation in a way that is at the same time exaggerated but true. She is trapped. Helpless. No escape. And it's a matter of time before some imminent disaster strikes and she is either locked up or killed. A grim reminder of everything she would rather forget. Slowly the tears fall, mixing with the water from the shower.
No hope. No escape. Only misery and suffering. That all that is in life. That all it will ever be for as long she remains alive. The abyss inside swallows her up. Even in sleep she can't escape the reality of existence. But she wants so desperate to escape. To pretend that she can escape.
If by some miracle she managed to prove Haupman was a guilty would it really help her case? She wonders. They would probably still arrest her once it was legal. Perhaps even sooner. With the connections that man had, bringing him down seemed impossible. No one would believe her if she told them. He was too esteemed for then to doubt him. But if she did what he asked her to do, what would happen then? He seemed to want her for his own research. To study her. She suspected where that would lead. After all she had done it to so many.
She looks at the dark hall where the door of the apartment is. She could just run. Open the door and run. She had money. Just run anywhere. They would chase her. Maybe she could escape them for a while. But eventually they would find her, then probably lock her up in a real prison.
They grey days all blend into one. The nightmare keep her awake for most nights. The feeling of being swallowed up inside the abyss lingers. The dreams are getting worse if it's at all possible. At the end of the week she dial the number. Claire has left her at the office but the assistant is nowhere. Meeting has been called. Two hours all to herself. She call that woman. This is an escape, a distraction. A way to forget.
She used to be full or rage in her younger days, to hurt others. She enjoyed it too. Many labeled her a sadist. She might have been one. But now all the rage was gone, only a gaping emptiness. The cold feeling of numbness inside. And she wanted to feel anything other than this. There was a comfort in surrender. Something she had never considered before.
Natalie is there waiting by the time is down.
"I was beginning to think you wouldn't call" she says, smiles.
Alex doesn't know what to say. This is just a distraction, an illusion of escaping. She takes her by the hand, leads her back to the room.
"Tell me where you want me to hurt you." she whispers in her ear.
She shivers in the cold. Anticipates it.
"Everywhere." She breathes.
Natalie laughs. It's a sweet and cruel sound. She ties her up like before. Alex sees her approach with a needle and a vial. She extracts the liquid. Injects it into her.
"Don't worry, this will make it more special." She says.
She braids her hair like before. Hands moving down her back, a cold caress. Finally she gags her. No blindfold this time. The lights in the room look brighter, that contrasts between light and shadow become much more vivid. Like all her senses are heightened. Her pupils expand. Heat spreading thought her body, but the room still feels cold. It's almost like standing on an unstable surface, like she could fall down and there was no floor below. Time seems to stretch as if the world is in slow motion. It's feels like forever before the first hit comes. It's like lighting shooting through her spine. Even the sense of pain seems heightened in this state. She can't think, only feel. Feel the pain that slowly chips away at the numbness inside.
Time disappears. She shuts her eyes tight, focuses on the pain. The gag won't let her scream. Her eyes water a little. It feels right, it feels deserved. Like a punishment for all her failures. A reminder that deep down she is a failure. That this is her true self- pathetic, weak, and miserable. Each burning lash is a truth etched into her skin. No matter how much she wants to be something more, to be god, to be human, she is just an insect. No matter how much she wants to be the cage, she is the bird stuck inside.
Natalie stops but she isn't aware of it. Feels the woman lean over her. Opens one eye. Feels the hand stroke her head softly. Tears blur her vision. She leans down to her face, licks the tear from her cheek.
"You're so pretty like this." She says.
Her lips move down, find hers. Natalie dominates the kiss. The taste of her tears in the woman's mouth. Alex almost feels sad when she pulls away.
"Don't worry. I have a reward for you." She says.
She returns soon wearing a harness with a strap on over her tight jeans.
"Now, how does my pretty little pet want me to fuck her?"
The wounds heal slowly. Some rip open and bleed. She hides the blood shirt. Wonders what changed. There was no dream, no vision. But it did make her feel better. Natalie flipping her on her back and fucking her, her wounds pressing against the latex sheet on the mattress. Pain and pleasure driving her over the edge. But she didn't stop there. Whatever drugs the woman gave her seemed to have an effect on her. Everything felt heightened somehow. Growing aroused again right after. Now it hurt. Natalie fucked her mercilessly. But it felt amazing at the time. But the pleasure faded and the ache was all that remained.
The water stung as she stood under the shower. The numbness inside was gone. The pain kept it at bay. But it was the words that truly stayed with her. Those whispered in her ear while she pounded her.
"So pretty. Just for me. No one else understands you. Not like I do. I'm the only one that can hurt you like this. Hurt you like you want to be hurt. I'm the only one who can love you like this."
Somehow she wanted to believe those words were true. They couldn't be. It just business for her. She did pay the woman. It was a service. But somehow she had known exactly what to say. Could there really be someone out there who could love her? When even he couldn't? In the end he left. Discussed by her weakness. He could have put an end to her suffering, why didn't he? Why did he just turn around and leave? She would never know. Perhaps he never cared for her. Perhaps she simply wanted him to. Wanted so bad that she ignored the truth.
He was the only one she let close. The only one she opened herself up to. She showed him what truth she could without putting them both in danger. She gave herself to him, abandoned her dominace for him. Surrendered. He made her happy. And then he made her hurt. He hurt her more than anything Spencer had ever done to her, worse than her sickness ever could. He hurt her so much that it still hurt. He died. He came back and then he abandoned her. And then he died again. And yet if he hadn't been there, during those nights, she wasn't certain that she would have made it. She would have done something reckless. She was trying to protect him, perhaps that was why Spencer told her about him. Why he forbade her from telling him. To manipulate her. Perhaps he was playing along in the games of that cruel old man. Love? Or just another scheme to control her? If he hadn't been there she would have broken into the archives and learned the truth, probably would have been killed after. Or turned into an experiment. Perhaps she would have even tried to kill Spencer. But Albert was there so she obeyed, endured and suffered. All to keep him safe.
Was everything in her life a lie? Her name, her desires, even her love. All fabrications made to control her. People pushed into her path simply to control her. All part of Spencer's plan. The cruel Architect of her reality, her suffering. She was not her own person, it always gnawed at her. Knowing it. But she was tired of it. Of this cage, of this fabricated world. She wanted something real, something that wasn't a lie. Spencer was dead and yet she was still living in that man's shadow. He even had the audacity to wish her happiness. She had considered death to be her only escape but she kept waking up from it. Maybe she did belong with Natalie. Somebody who knew how pathetic and fucked up she was. And yet dared to call pretty for it. Perhaps Natalie was the only person who could love her. And that love would pain. But perhaps it's what she deserved.
