Scenelet // Alison // Reflections...
Jul. 25th, 2005 11:20 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsThings catch up, no matter how long or how hard you try to shy away from them. Alison breaks down, finally, realizing that that the scars on her back are very real indeed. As is what happened to her.
It had been her birthday, today.
Unbuttoning the sleeveless blouse she'd worn, the only one other than a few tank tops she had that might do the trick and hide… her thoughts trailed off then, fabric sliding down a bit, falling off her shoulders. Blackness peeked over the edge of fair skin, standing out starkly, taunting her with its presence. Forcing herself to look, Alison raised one hand, resting them on the ridges of flesh. Rolled her shoulder forward, darkness following faithfully the motion, tugging down in uneven lines along her back, the scars felt all the way down her hip as she stretched them purposefully.
Her touch hardened, fingertips seeking to erase the marks, somehow. Old and worn, settled in place as though they'd always belonged there, the pitch black marks remained, unmoved. Her fingers curled over them, ready to dig in…
…and she stopped, staring at her hand, and the jagged scars beyond, stretching out of sight under still half-buttoned blouse.
"No."
The mirrors were still showing her that same reflection though, refusing to do anything else but reflect reality. Reflect what was. Light sizzled to life and tore through the blouse, a futile attempt to wipe out the scars on her back resulting in a shattering of the tiles just beyond them on the floor.
That didn't do it, of course. Nothing would. The sinking realization hit, finally, lead lodging in the pit of her stomach with an inescapable feeling of helplessness on its heels.
He'd done this to her. Left his mark, claws scoring down her back and whatever had been done to heal her not even managing to take those away and if lasers didn't do the trick, what would? Staring at her reflection in the mirror, Alison shook her head, slowly.
~I'm not done with you yet.~
The voice, maliciously satisfied, echoed in her mind. With a low, animal like scream of denial, Alison picked up the hair dryer still on the counter and threw it at the mirror, but the spidery web of broken patterns in front of her only served to reflect the scars further, in a myriad wavering pictures, each glittering back at her tauntingly.
Light blazed up in response, melting the mirror to slag in a heartbeat, the thick glass panes of the shower cracking and collapses under the sudden heat as well. Paint bubbled up on the ceramics, which soon cracked and split as well, lasers slicing through them pitilessly.
A piece of the counter fell nearby, a solid sounding thump, echoed by the steadily growing sound of water hitting the floor. Sobs tearing through her body, Alison fell back more than leaned against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor with a thump, wrapping her arms around herself unsteadily, rocking back and forth.
It had been her birthday, today.
Unbuttoning the sleeveless blouse she'd worn, the only one other than a few tank tops she had that might do the trick and hide… her thoughts trailed off then, fabric sliding down a bit, falling off her shoulders. Blackness peeked over the edge of fair skin, standing out starkly, taunting her with its presence. Forcing herself to look, Alison raised one hand, resting them on the ridges of flesh. Rolled her shoulder forward, darkness following faithfully the motion, tugging down in uneven lines along her back, the scars felt all the way down her hip as she stretched them purposefully.
Her touch hardened, fingertips seeking to erase the marks, somehow. Old and worn, settled in place as though they'd always belonged there, the pitch black marks remained, unmoved. Her fingers curled over them, ready to dig in…
…and she stopped, staring at her hand, and the jagged scars beyond, stretching out of sight under still half-buttoned blouse.
"No."
The mirrors were still showing her that same reflection though, refusing to do anything else but reflect reality. Reflect what was. Light sizzled to life and tore through the blouse, a futile attempt to wipe out the scars on her back resulting in a shattering of the tiles just beyond them on the floor.
That didn't do it, of course. Nothing would. The sinking realization hit, finally, lead lodging in the pit of her stomach with an inescapable feeling of helplessness on its heels.
He'd done this to her. Left his mark, claws scoring down her back and whatever had been done to heal her not even managing to take those away and if lasers didn't do the trick, what would? Staring at her reflection in the mirror, Alison shook her head, slowly.
~I'm not done with you yet.~
The voice, maliciously satisfied, echoed in her mind. With a low, animal like scream of denial, Alison picked up the hair dryer still on the counter and threw it at the mirror, but the spidery web of broken patterns in front of her only served to reflect the scars further, in a myriad wavering pictures, each glittering back at her tauntingly.
Light blazed up in response, melting the mirror to slag in a heartbeat, the thick glass panes of the shower cracking and collapses under the sudden heat as well. Paint bubbled up on the ceramics, which soon cracked and split as well, lasers slicing through them pitilessly.
A piece of the counter fell nearby, a solid sounding thump, echoed by the steadily growing sound of water hitting the floor. Sobs tearing through her body, Alison fell back more than leaned against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor with a thump, wrapping her arms around herself unsteadily, rocking back and forth.
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