Edit: argh i forgot to upload!? have a anccidental double update this and Chapter 27.
We're so close to the end I didn't want to keep splitting chapters. but you know, brain weevels. TW : scars, shouting and anxiety also the formatting is being super flipping werid so let me know if need to re edit it.
Atlanta squeezed Marina's hand once more. then let go, and slid off the sofa; every movement slow and careful so as not to scare the mergirl as she knelt. Marina in turn swung her legs back out from under her, tugging up her skirts to show Atlanta the scars to their full extent, her flippers swinging nervously. Her feet never quite touched the floor when she sat back in those chairs.
Easing one foot up then the other, Atlanta looked back up to double check Marina was as comfortable as she could be; but Marina looked away.
"Okay?"
Marina nodded once. Still not looking at her.
Atlanta sighed but with grim determination set too examining the scars at Marina's ankles. Including one that had started all the trouble between them in the first place. She had to take a breath and steel herself to do so, mind. but Atlanta looked down. She had Marina's ankle in the palm of her hand like last time. And just like last time there was encircling and over just above Marina's Achilles heel, a scar. Oscars. Atlanta still wasn't sure how to describe the mark nearly three weeks on.
Actually, despite it being burned into her vision night and day, Atlanta was still slightly takenaback, tensing. In Atlanta's over thinking, the 'not knowing' her imagination twisted the event, made this scar seem worse than it was. she'd been unwittingly distorting the memory by accident making it a Great big sprawling bloody thing. To look at the scar, this shackle mark and its twin, it seemed so plain now. The healed tissue too soft to the touch be the stuff of nightmare fuel, compared to the tricks her mind had played on her.
'Oh gee, or am I getting used to seeing such things?" Atlanta thought. "I hope not. What a thing to get used to.'
She glanced up at Marina again. This time Marina watched her, her big scared eyes focused on Atlanta's fingers. She had one hand squeezing the scrunched-up handkerchief tight. The other hand was fiddling with the end of her hair, unable to keep her hands still. Atlanta smiled trying to reassure her. It felt flat even on her own face.
Okay so they didn't look like anything out of a horror movie. They were scars, Just scars. That Didn't make them look any less of a nightmare for Marina. Simple and Plain, yes especially compared to the one her back and the almost geometric scatterings on Marina's arms. but it'd still been made in malice. Still caused her pain. Correction, were still causing her pain; even if it was 'just' in her head.
Atlanta brushed a thumb along its width cautiously, the band being only just as wide as her thumb was long. Marina flinched, a little jump; but didn't pull away.
It was not unlike the ribbing left by socks (not that Marina ever wore those either). But wrong. Shiny. The wrong sort of pink. More than an imprint could be. The skin dipped unnaturally above and below, quite deep too. Just how tight had she been bound?! Too tightly Atlanta guessed, for it to scar like this. tight enough to cut into Marina's ankles Again and again, causing new injuries where the shackle had been refastened; catching different bits of her ankle. searing into
her flesh-!
"Such an awful lot of damage." Atlanta mumbled. Did it make it hurt towalk? Or impede Marina's swimming at all? fantastic as it was compared to a human, even one of Troy's expertise?
And they looked sore. So sore. A lot nastier then last time she'd seen the band, Atlanta was sure of it. She didn't remember the skin around the first scar being so pink or angry. As if rather than being cared for recently someone as if to scrub them away, worrying the skin there.
'Maybe Marina has tried to clean it away. Or scratched at it.' Atlanta realized sadly. But held her tongue on that matter.
By now she had one ankle in each hand like she had had Marina's wrists earlier. A matching set. Not identical to details but similar enough. Taking a closer look at the brands together Just as she had with Marina's other scars she could see all the damage up close and wish she could make it all disappear;take the pain with it and Make them go away. Atlanta Wanted to look away. But at the same time, she Couldn't help but stare. And felt like she Mustn't Look away. She owed Marina that. And Marina was so ashamed of them-
"Marina I'm so sorry."
She felt Marina flinch again this time at the apology. It had slipped out, along with the crackin her voice. But They, the Wasps, she Atlanta. They should have done more. They should have looked after Marina, protected her better.
They hadn't had a good way of communicating back when she first arrived. other than asking yes or no questions. But there was no excuse now! Why hadn't they re-asked questions. Thought to go back over the original notes or just ask Marina how she was feeling?!
They didn't even know how long she'd been under Titian's enslavement for goodness sake! Not for definite. Troy and Phones had asked, sure. But that had been ages ago! And Marina back then after some puzzlement had held up one then two fingers. There had been some confusions over months but after some arm waving they assumed Marina had maybe meant a year and half near two.
And if a marine year was anything like a marine minute in dragging on…
Atlanta's head swirled, vision blurring with tears, still staring at the scared bands. Scars on her ankles. It didn't matter how long all that mattered is Marina had been a prisoner, had been scared and hurt. Badly. Ankle. Wrists, forearms. Her back. Both Ankles even. And that was just what was visible. What Marina had shown her.
"This. All of this, all of these. I'm sorry." Atlanta choked. She finally tore her eyes away for a moment, the emotional stopper slipping. "It ain't fair. It isn't right. This- none of it. What you went through- I can't imagine but…Dammit-!"
A tear rolled down her cheek and off her chin, staining the pale grey of her uniform dark. Atlanta cursed herself she'd always even an easy crier, again. And worrier. Especially at others. (Especially about Troy if she was being honest.) But this? This was something else entirely.
"How DARE he?!" Another tear fell. Atlanta shook her head hard to get rid of it. She had to lower Marina's foot to free up her hand; Swiping at her face with her sleeve.
"How could titian- That pig! How dare he do this to you?! Heck, this is no way to treat anybody. And a a prisoner too! He had you chained up like an animal That b- And those horrible aquaphibians! That that BEAST! This is barbaric Marina, absolutely Barbaric! Oh! Oh Marina no no no- wait!"
Atlanta realised a second too late she'd been too loud. And Angry. It had been almost a shout. And Marina didn't like it when there was angry shouting.
(It was one of the first things they'd learnt about her; when the girl had started badly one day when the commander had balled out a dispatcher over the radio. Or when Troy had Stormed out of dinner and Marina had needed some quiet time out away from her own party. Orders Marina could roll, well, swim with. but arguing, or even sometimes just volume or tone rattled her.)
For the most part during this whole intervention in the standby lounge, Marina had been almost indifferent to the whole thing. Like she'd been distancing herself from her own body. Or trying to be. Bar the occasional blip and bouts of tears.
"I'm sorry Don't- it's okay-!"
But now things were loud and bad and about to get worse. At Atlanta's slip, Marina had kicked out and back, jerked so hard out of Atlanta's grasp her heel hit the couch
with a thud. And again, Atlanta had horrible Deja vu to when Marina pulled herfoot away from Atlanta all over again. Only this time sans step ladder. And it wasn't another nightmare.
Marina scrambled back from Atlanta, putting as much distance as she could between them along the couch, squashing herself against the lumpy back cushions. tugging her legging down over her calves, Marina then started Yanking her skirts about her too, as if trying to Bury her body in her own dress. Then Marina pulled her knees up to her chestcurling in, arms hugging hard around herself with a white-knuckle grip. That blind panic deer in the headlights look was back again. But something else flicked across Marina's face too.
Anger.
Marina stared at her with Fear and rage like Atlanta had never known the mermaid have for terreanians before.
"I'm sorry I shouldn't-." Atlanta tried again. But the damage was done.