98. [Action for Saffron City, backdated to Friday]

[foolishwren]

<sub>[It's funny, because these sorts of weekends have come to be ones that Heather dreads, clear memories or no. She doesn't remember much of them when they roll around, but she remembers enough, and usually what she remembers is bad.]

[So yeah, she's sort of been walking on eggshells, waiting for this to happen.]

[BUT... between all the craziness going down throughout November... bundling over to Kanto with the rest of her family to cheer Crow on during the Tournament, spending Thanksgiving in the packed-to-bursting household of a grumpy FBI agent and the enormously large family unit he seems to have somehow gathered (despite... being himself) ...]

[It drives weird dreamy weekends filled with amnesia and horror and the Koolaid Man bursting through the wall out of the mind, a little!]

[.... Which is why, yeah, uh, she's out taking Cooj for a nighttime walk on Friday night, and doesn't quite notice anything's up yet.]

[Or the pink bunny following her around.]</sub>





[OOC: Tags may be horrendously slow due to NaNo, but I had to hiatus-break at least a LITTLE for 4th Wall! Robbie the Rabbit will be lingering in the background of any given thread, but feel free to throw anything at Heather and not bother with the spooky pink bunny chillin over there.]

Comments

[walkwithbob]

<sub>[The obstacles amuse him, but like she thinks he will, he goes right past them. Closer, closer, closer now ...]

[Until he's right behind her, once again, breath by her neck and his feet by her heels, in that incredibly frustrating way when you know how close by they are, that their feet might catch your heels and make you stumble any second.]

[That's where he is.]


[And then with something eerily close to a snarl, yet somehow delighted, he reaches out and grabs her by the arms.]</sub>

[foolishwren]

<sub>[Oh yeah. She can feel him back there.]

[She's felt thousands of horrible things in her life (lives...) and the unmistakable sensation of something right on your tail as you run has to be one of the worst.]

[Except that she'd had the blessing of being faster than most of the things in Silent Hill. Even the dogs.]

[She doesn't have that good fortune this time.]</sub>

FUCK OFF!

<sub>[It's not a yell-- it's a SCREAM that tears out of her throat when she feels his hands clamp down on her arms from behind. She twists, trying to hurl him off the same way she'd thrown off split-faced hounds and pouncing slurpers back in the Otherworld.]

[But this is different.]

[And not in a way that makes it any better.]</sub>

[walkwithbob]

<sub>[He lets one of her arms go only so he can grab it again in the way she's trying to twist and squirm, making her face him, and the more she struggles the harder the grip will be and he'll shake her to keep her in place and try to shock her out of fighting.]

[Yet he doesn't actually harm her. She might have bruises from his fingers pressing hard into her upper arms, but there are no hits, no threats of it either, just him close against her and breathing into her face, teeth bared in what can only barely pass as a smile.]</sub>

What did I tell you about MANNERS, Heather Mason?

_{[He takes such delight in that word, apparently, in what would be gentle chiding and correction. But in his mouth, it's anything but.]}


Is that a thing to say to your playmates?

[foolishwren]

<sub>[It's awful, when your own attempts at fighting back are used against you.]

[It's everything that Heather is terrified of, actually.]

[Her entire life (both of them) has been spent fighting back. Fighting back and learning that it WORKS, if you do it hard enough.]

[It's bad enough just doing it and realizing that nothing you try is helping or changing anything... but it's a thousand times worse when whatever you're fighting just uses it to hurt you more.]

[She shuts her eyes as his awful grin fills her vision, still straining to get away, pushing at him, striking with her feet, her knees, pretty much anything she can actually use. But she doesn't expect any of it to work.]

[None of it worked last time.]

[All the same, she hollers, too. Screaming right into his face, which is so close to her own. No matter how scared she is, her mouth seems to almost always be on autopilot.]</sub>

WHO gives a FUCK what you TOLD ME!

LET GO!

<sub>[Playmates.]

[Disgusting.]</sub>

[walkwithbob]

_{[And just like that his voice drops from the maliciously cheerful tone into something far more threatening, much more darker.]}

Never, Heather Mason.

You belong to me.

<sub>[He doesn't care in the least about the way she's kicking and fighting and squirming - not when it comes to what she's doing to him, anyway. But he shakes her roughly once again to keep her in place.]

[Then, without warning, he moves one hand to her face, clamping his fingers around her mouth like he wanted to force it open, despite his choice of words.]</sub>

Now shut your mouth, you little bitch.

[foolishwren]

<sub>[The sudden face-grab takes her by surprise and although she jerks backwards violently, it doesn't do anything to get her out of that frightful grip.]

[The hot, sickened rage that roars at his claims of ownership are buried under the screaming panic that's resonating through her skull-- which is why, when he vulgarly tells her to shut her mouth, the immediate defiant response is more the desperate reaction of a wolf in a trap than a cool-headed act of rebellion.]

[Far from shutting it (honestly she's not even sure she CAN with him holding onto it like that), her lips peel back to show gum and teeth-- which gnash open and clamp down on the hand right in front of it.]

[Her brain knows that it got her nowhere last time. But her every molecule wants that hand to let go and the dark thing inside her knows in its own primitive way that the best way to get free is to crunch through flesh and sinew.]

[She bites down on the fleshy space between thumb and forefinger as hard as she can.]</sub>

[walkwithbob]

<sub>[And just before she hits that spot, he moves his index finger into her mouth.]

[If it hurts in any way that she's biting down that hard around the flesh and bone, he doesn't show it, but instead tugs her closer with his other hand again, yanking at her arm and clothes. It's just about proximity with him because nothing QUITE beats the terror of someone so close to you, invading your personal space so completely, almost threatening to take a bite.]

[He doesn't, though.]


[That's all her.]




[No, what he does is let her go for a split second to tangle his fingers into her hair and pull her head back.]</sub>

[foolishwren]

<sub>[Well, she's still biting, but nobody likes getting someone's finger shoved down their throat. She gags even as she clamps her teeth down. And of course it doesn't do anything.]

[She does, however, let go as her head is jerked back-- with a hoarse, strangled sound.]</sub>

[walkwithbob]

<sub>[He smirks, like that's exactly what he wanted, and shoves his finger into her mouth again - this time with his hand turned the other way so he can scratch the roof of her mouth with his nail.]

[A long, shallow scratch.]

[Come hither.]</sub>


Remember this, little girl. Remember!

<sub>[With a sort of voiceless laugh, as he scratches her again, grip still tight in her hair.]

[And again, and by the end it's not shallow at all.]</sub>

[foolishwren]

<sub>[Well, if that's not a deterrent to biting, god only knows what is.]

[At first she just makes another strangled sound, jerking her head against the scratching, more out of disgust (his hand is DISGUSTING, the fingernails longer and thicker and FILTHIER than anyone has a right to keep them-- she can feel it, she can TASTE it) than pain.]

[Until it becomes obvious what he's doing.]

[Then she starts to thrash and scream-- muffledly, but screaming all the same. In fear and in pain. Mostly pain, really-- Heather's never been the type to scream from fear alone.]</sub>

[walkwithbob]

<sub>[When he breaks the skin the first time - and he takes his sweet time with it - that's when he's won.]

[And once that happens, he runs that finger along her cheek, smiling cruelly, before he lets her go by more or less throwing her to the ground.]



[There's silence, suddenly, in that unexpected way when all background noise that you hadn't even been aware of stops.]</sub>

[foolishwren]

<sub>[The last time this happened, she caught herself and stayed upright. This time, she just hits the ground, rolling along the sidewalk and pushing herself up on her hands, coughing and gagging and spitting at the pavement-- a slimy rope of red is still hanging from her lip when she looks up at him, chest hitching.]

[There were tears in her eyes last time, too. Somehow that makes it all the worse that she wasn't able to change that this time around.]

[She's just as terrified as she was then. If not more.]</sub>

[walkwithbob]

_{[He walks up and makes a movement as if to cup her cheek, but it ends in a loose hold on her throat. It's not threatening. It's just showing that it could be.]}

I can have you whenever I want.

<sub>[And he says it with such absolute certainty.]


[Then he's gone, with no warning or fadeout or mirrors or smoke - just gone.]</sub>

[foolishwren]

<sub>[For someone who's spent their entire life running, being caught, hurt, and then let go can be far worse than any alternative. She scrambles backwards as he reaches for her throat, but it's not fast enough and she can feel his disgusting hand there anyway.]

[And with that he's gone, before she can even whimper.]


[There's no Carousel around this time to comfort her, and she's in the middle of a city. She has no choice but to haul herself upright and start to stagger shakily back in some direction she hopes is home.]</sub>