Chapter 6 Splintering

Kara's head jerked up from her knees and her eyes flicked around the room, confusion and fear seesawing her emotions as she sought to make sense of the scene before her.

Visible in the middle of the linoleum floor was a male corpse, face and upper torso pummeled nearly beyond recognition, yet undoubtedly Leoben. She realized that she was sitting pressed into the corner of the kitchen and couldn't pull forth any memory of how she had gotten there. There was no sign of anyone else, and the only sound was the slow drip from the faucet.

"What the—" she started to say, breaking off as she noticed the red smearing her bare feet. She was pretty sure the blood wasn't hers. Using the wall, Kara pushed herself unsteadily upright and closed her eyes again as a wave of vertigo swept over her. She bent forward and braced hands on shaking knees and tried to recall what had happened.

The last thing she remembered was washing the evening dishes. Her gaze snapped over and she saw that the sink was still half filled with water, the plate she had been washing lay shattered on the floor nearby. How much time had passed? She saw it was long enough for the soap bubbles to dissipate, leaving just the film of their presence on the water's surface.

Forcing herself to turn back to the bloody mess of Leoben's latest corpse, Kara shuddered and immediately whipped back around to the sink, stomach heaving as tomato-laced acid rose in her throat and she spewed the spaghetti she'd eaten for dinner into the stagnant water. A few more hurling heaves emptied the last of her meal and she leaned on shaking arms, gasping as sweat layered her forehead and upper lip.

Still spitting to clear her throat, she reached blindly for the faucet and turned it on to cup her hands beneath the cold flow. Splashing water onto her face, she washed away the sweat and rinsed her mouth. Once she was sure the worst of the nausea had passed, Kara thrust her hand into the fouled water and released the drain, then spent the next ten minutes vigorously scrubbing the sink and her hands clean, putting off the moment when she would to have to turn around again.

She set aside the dish cloth and leaned on her elbows, damp palms pressed to her eyelids, and tried to force the bloody image away. It wasn't like he was human. He wasn't real. It wasn't real, just a frakkin' Toaster.

Nothing but fake blood.

Fake guts.

Fake man.

After another minute, she finally straightened and grabbed a dry dish towel, blotting at her damp face before reluctantly facing the gruesome remains again.

Unable to pull her gaze from the pulped upper torso and head of the male Cylon, her mind kept trying to understand how she could've done so much damage and have no memory of the attack, for Kara knew she was the one that had mutilated him; her bloody footprints were the only ones present.

The last couple of weeks had seen an increase in the frequency and duration of the incidences when she had found herself suddenly aware that a space of time had passed and she had no memory of it. The blackouts were disconcerting; to abruptly look around and realize that she'd spent hours lost in some daydream she couldn't even remember.

Frak. She was going as crazy as Leoben.

Her attention was drawn back to the present when she looked down and was reminded that her bare feet were stained with dried blood. She had to get cleaned up. Do something about the…the…thing.

Keeping her eyes averted, Kara sidled around the body and retrieved a sheet from the cupboard. She covered the corpse and breathed a slight sigh now that it was hidden from view.

The previous times she had managed to kill Leoben, she'd left the clean up for his newest incarnation to take care of on its return. But this time, Kara felt compelled to wipe the kitchen clean—like her mind had been—though she determinedly avoided the draped form.

When the floor was clear of red, except for what seeped from beneath the pale cloth, Kara rinsed the dishrag in the sink and escaped into the bathroom. Beneath the shower spray, she tried to wash away the image of the smashed in face. Yet, no matter how hard she scrubbed, she only had to shut her eyes and it was imprinted on the lids. Shivering, she fumbled at the faucet and cranked the knob. Only as the temperature bordered on scalding and steam rose about her did she find her head clearing.

An hour later, dressed and in her usual seat facing out the corner window, Kara flinched as she heard the apartment door open. She kept her gaze locked on the horizon where the New Caprican sun was setting, its washed-out light descending into a darkness that mirrored Kara's own downward spiraling psyche.

No, she didn't regret killing the skin-job again, but the evident violence of her attack and subsequent blackout appalled her more than anything since her time at the Farm. For she knew she was losing her mind, losing the only thing she'd still been left some control over in this frakked-up dollhouse that she'd been boxed into. As her slippage into madness escalated, it just provided further proof of how defective she was.

Guess momma was right again.

His calm voice coming from only a few feet behind her drew her attention, "Kara…Kara, look at me," he commanded and she reluctantly turned but refused to meet his eyes. There was a long moment of silence as she felt him studying her, then she saw him twist towards where his covered corpse lay. "It's ok, Kara. I know you didn't mean it."

That brought her to her feet, eyes flashing as they locked with his now.

"I killed you. I killed you and I frakkin' meant it! Input that into your crazy chromed skull," she rasped out, throat too constricted by conflicting emotions to allow her to shout at him like she was desperate to do. "Come near me and I'll frakkin' do it again!" she growled her warning.

"No. This," gesturing towards the draped from, "proves your sorry. It's ok. I understand," he said soothingly.

"I don't want your understanding!" Now she was yelling. "You're crazy. A sicko Cylon that gets off on getting killed over and over." She turned away, hugging herself to keep from shaking as she fluctuated between rage and revulsion.

Feeling his breath on her hair, she stiffened. He didn't touch her, but she could feel the heat from his hands as he held them an inch from her bare shoulders.

"Accept this. What's between us. Stop hurting yourself like this," his murmur brushed her left ear.

"Frak you."

"Ok, Kara." She felt his presence withdrawal. His voice was receding as he said, "Come join me in bed. I'm better company than he is." It was then that she realized Leoben was going to leave his corpse on the kitchen floor overnight.

Resuming her seat by the window, she leaned her forehead on the cool glass and knew there would be no sleeping tonight with the mutilated body so near as a grim reminder. Her eyes sought the stars in the deepening night and she sent a prayer for rescue out into the expanse, hoping that either the Gods or the Galactica would heed her plea—while she was still sane enough to benefit from their intervention.