Persona

by Amy Lunderman

  Before he even senses movement a gentle soft hand touches his cheek. This causes him to flinch away from the touch, but the growling comes to a stop. He forces himself back against the pipe and even though it digs into him painfully, he does what it takes to get away from whoever is before him.

  “Hush now you poor dear.” A woman’s voice says with a light twang.

  Well, at least he knows that he isn’t with Fletcher, since he wouldn’t have a woman’s voice. At least he doesn’t think the man does.

  ***

  Laying back against yet another unfamiliar bed, with an ease that is becoming constant, Moira wishes she was anywhere but where she is. This thought sends her reeling, especially since she has finally made it to Montana, and can sit still for the first time in weeks. The one thing that kept her going all this time, was that if she kept her head held high and stayed strong, everything would be fine once she got to the pack. Sure she is safe, but at what cost?

  Not everyone made it here, and that, is the reason Moira hasn’t left the room that was deemed hers the night before. A room that makes her even more uncomfortable in her skin, than she already is. Not that she is ungrateful or anything, because the attempt to make her relaxed is noted. She just isn’t used to people clambering around to her every need; not even her own family is like that.

  The room in question was definitely put together with her in mind, or maybe just for a girl, since no one really knows her yet. The bed she is currently occupying, is a dark mahogany wood canopy with actual see through lace draping around the bed like a curtain; and it’s adorned with a fluffy lavender quilt and matching silk sheets. She isn’t going to lie here, the bed was a blessing to climb into the night before, and yes she was asleep almost instantly.

  Not before she scoped out the rest of the room of course, this has a matching wood dresser and desk. They are strategically placed along the only two opposite walls, both of which already filled with things meant for her; not that she used any of it, or plans to. Her room has a window behind the right wall with the desk, with lavender drapes, and the view is of a thriving garden with all kinds of herbs; the scents travel into the room even now with it tightly sealed shut.

  She knows she should feel completely welcome here, and at least try to make herself at home; but she just can’t. Normally at a time like this she would have company, but the one person she relies on for comfort, is the one person missing from their group. Not that the others didn’t try, because Raven, Daisy, and even Ray wanted to keep her company the night before; but she wouldn’t let them. This is the first time they all had their own beds to sleep in; she wouldn’t ruin that for them.

  Besides, they would only try to reassure her that everything is fine, when she knows for a fact that it’s not. Marty would know the right thing to do in this very moment, to get her out of bed and to get over feeling guilty for things out of her control. But he’s not here, and she’s alone.

  Just thinking about everything that has happened recently, brings fresh tears to her already red rimmed eyes. And, the worst part is there's no-one else to blame but her. Well, that’s not completely true she thinks, there is one name that comes to mind pretty easily; Liam’s. He is the one after all, that left not only Marty, but Gordon as well, the day before back at the warehouse. The warehouse, the memory of being kidnapped is almost laughable now. How crazy cult people can get away with that crap, she has no idea. It’s a good thing they aren’t the craftiest criminals, Moira thinks, or they’re numbers might be shorter than they are.

  Moira knows that she is a little more to blame than Liam though, since she was the one caught in a compromising position by Marty. A position where she was caught kissing Liam, after she assured Marty that she felt nothing for the other boy. She knew it was a lie when she first told him, but how do you tell a boy that is your best friend, who is deeply into you, that you have a strange connection to someone else. You can’t, that’s what, which is why she kept it to herself.

  She regrets it now though, and wants nothing more to take back that kiss. Because right after that, just seeing Marty’s face, killed something in her. It didn’t take any thought to chase after him when he turned away from her; even when Liam stepped away to let her.

  She never got the chance to tell him how sorry she was though, in that moment is when the fore mentioned cult group, the Purists, broke into Gordon’s house. Something happened to her then, that she doesn’t even know how to explain to herself. She has been angry before as well as upset, and usually these feeling would bring her persona over her; but this time it was different. It was like her persona fed on her emotions and used it to be stronger; which is a new development.

  Even newer, is the fact that she used some pretty juiced up moves back at Gordon’s. The memory of it is a little blurry even now though, like none of it really happened to her. She does remember feeling a strong rage, and it was all directed at the men attacking her. She had moved to fast for her mind to really keep up, and by the time the bodies were motionless on the ground, only then did she realize it was her doing the hurting now.

  Even worse, is the fact that Liam and Marty both were in the hallway with her, when she did it. She can still picture both of their faces, as they watched her like they didn’t even know who she was. And honestly, she doesn’t know who she is anymore. All of this is the courtesy of the man in her nightmares, Doctor Peter Fletcher. She knows he did something to her back at the facility when she was captured, she can feel it. Her persona has been out of whack, ever since he injected her with a new drug he supposedly designed.

  Apparently the idea was to make ones persona dormant, and she knows personally that it works. It felt wrong and empty to have her persona disappear from her senses. Before any of this happened, she would have given anything to be normal, but when it was gone; all she wanted was for it to come back. And come back it did.

  When it first came back to her, it almost tore right out of her, at a speed she never had before. Every hurt she had on her body, healed at a rate that left her screaming in pain from it all. Moira used to be the epitome of control, but ever since that day, she has had no such thing. Now her persona comes on like a drop of a hat, and with no warning tingle like before. She can feel her persona differently now, and she doesn’t know what it means; only that it scares her. It’s like a need, the need to hunt, to kill and worst of all - to feed.

  It scares her to know that she might not be in control of her body and could really hurt someone. On the plus side of the crap done to her, she heals a lot faster than the others. The wound in her thigh from an arrow the day before is gone, and not even a scar; it’s the same for any mark that she got when she was at the facility. Even the pain in her side is gone, and so is the scar of an incision that she still doesn’t know what happened.

  There are too many questions going through her mind, and not enough answers. That is the reason she didn’t run back to find Marty on her own, and forget the mission of getting to Liam’s father. Because he can help her get the answers she needs; now all she has to do is leave the room and go and ask him.

  None of this matters to Moira though, because what is the point to having answers, if everyone you care about is gone. Marty isn’t the first person she has lost recently, he’s just one of the many she tries not to think about. Like her father, who gave himself over to Fletcher so she could escape with Liam away from the facility; or her mother, whom she has never met, because of Fletcher. It’s all too much for her, and all she wants is to curl into a ball and let everything fade away.

  Feeling tears roll out of her eyes, Moira does just that, and turns her head into the fluffy pillows of the bed that will never really be hers. Sobs begin to form inside her, and she clenches her eyes shut as she starts to pull the comforter up over her head; but a knock at the bedroom door interrupts her wallowing.

  It’s a hard intrusive knock, and she can almost sense one of her friends on the other side of it. She doesn’t bother to get up to answer it
though, and instead chooses to ignore it and not let anything get in the way of her self-pity. But the person on the other side of the door doesn’t go away; they knock even harder than the first time. The pounding shakes the door, and Moira lets out a sigh rolling on to her back. She can’t help feeling slightly annoyed, and just when she is already expecting another knock to quickly follow the last – it never comes.

  Relieved, that whoever it was took her hint and went away, Moira curls onto her side in attempt to reenact her previous fetal position. However, before she can even come close to wallowing again, her door pushes open and lets in the intruder. Glancing up from her borrowed pillow, Raven breaks the threshold of the doorway all the while glaring at her.

  “I don’t remember saying you could come in.” Moira says as she flops her head back onto the soft pillow and shutting her eyes.

  As she is closing the door behind her, Raven snorts out a snicker of laughter.

  “I didn’t ask.”

  ***

  Moira clenches her eyes shut refusing to look at the other girl, as she feels her walk further into the room and reach the side of the bed closest to her. Moira waits for some admonishing from her friend, but after a moment of silence, it doesn’t come. Knowing she isn’t going to have the chance to wallow right now, she decides it’s probably best to face whatever Raven came into her room for. Opening her eyes, and rolling onto her back once more, it’s not surprising when Ravens eyes follow her movements.

  Even when she gets into a sitting position against the headboard.

  “What is it Raven?”

  Raven doesn’t say anything again and instead she just gives her a cold glaring stare. Her posture is stiff and her arms are crossed tightly against her chest. Moira has half a thought that maybe there is something else going on, other than her own miserable drama. Then Raven’s face softens slightly and that’s when she sees it; the pity.

  “I know what you’re planning.”

  “Oh do you?” Moira asks.

  “Yes. You’re thinking about just giving up. And that staying in here for the rest of your life is the best idea you’ve ever had.”

  Not saying anything back, instead Moira shifts her eyes up at the canopy above her and tries to hide the fact that she was about to give up. The dark wood is surprisingly beautiful, and there are intricate patterns across the entire base. She can’t tell what they are, but they are nice enough for her to be lost in the design. Not lost enough though, so she knows she can’t ignore Raven forever. Especially since she can feel the other girl’s eyes still boring into her.

  “Why do you sound like you’ve felt like this before?” Moira asks as she glances back at her friend.

  Raven visibly tenses, almost like she is trying to hide within herself. Her pearly white skin becomes slightly paler, making her jade black hair appear darker than it is as it hangs over her shoulders. Letting out a great sigh, she steps closer to the bed and slowly sits down on the edge of it. Her shoulders are hunched, and Moira gets the impression that she is struggling to hold back a bigger emotion. Never seeing her like this, Moira’s interest is peeked.

  “Probably because I have. It might surprise you, but I haven’t always been this perfect hot girl I am today.”

  Raven’s voice has a light edge to it, like she is trying to disregard how upset she is. If it wasn’t so unusually soft, Moira just might let the comment slide. But the two of them have been through a lot together, and it wouldn’t be right to just ignore her obvious pain.

  “What changed?” Moira asks just as softly.

  Raven doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Moira is about to reach for her, when she finally glances at her. Moira drops her reaching hand, when she finds that Raven’s eyes are black orbs now, as she is being pulled by her persona. Now she knows, whatever it is, it’s not going to be a light fluffy tale.

  “You know that I live with my aunt, but you don’t know why.

  Raven closes her eyes and takes deep even breathes, before finishing.

  “My mom was never like us, but my dad was. She passed away when I was born, and he was arrested for her murder.”

  Moira gasps out loud now, causing Raven’s eyes to snap open. What she sees is terror floating in those deep dark depths and with good reason.

  “Oh my God, Raven! How-” Moira says in a rush, while sitting straight up, all thoughts of wallowing in the bed fading.

  “He didn’t really kill her you see, it was my birth. But you know the laws, no intermarrying and such. So he was pinned with intentional infection, like he planned that I would kill her or something.”

  “He’s not in a prison is he?” Moira asks so softly, already knowing the answer. Why else would Raven be so desolate.

  “No. It was decided early on, that he get the death penalty. I was my aunt’s daughter, from the very first day I was born.”

  Two drops of tears fall out of her friends eyes and roll in a slow decent down her ghostly cheeks. She crosses her arms and covers her middle so tightly, like she is trying to hold in something that wants to get free. Moira can feel her own puffy eyes fill with fresh tears.

  “Raven, I…” Moira starts, but Raven quickly interrupts her with a shake of her head.

  “I know it’s not the same, and it’s been such a long time for me. But, I know how it feels to have things happen that is out of your control. It took me a while to not feel responsible for both of my parent’s deaths. The only thing any of us can do is to keep trekking forward.”

  Glancing away, Raven swipes the tears that are coating her cheeks and stares at the bedroom door like it is the most fascinating thing. Sighing, Moira scoots closer to her and places a gentle hand on her shoulder. This makes Raven flick her eyes to Moira, but she glances away before they gaze can hold.

  “I’m glad you shared with me, and Raven…..I’m so sorry about your parents. I know your right, but I think I might need some time before I can get passed what’s rushing in my head.”

  Raven sits up straighter now, causing Moira’s hand to fall away from her shoulder. The other girl faces her now and puts on a show of giving a bright smile, even though Moira is positive she isn’t happy.

  “You don’t have to be sorry, sometimes these things happen. I love my aunt, and wouldn’t replace her for the world. And I know you’ll need time, but you’ll get their; losing the guilt.”

  Before Moira can say anything at all, she is being pulled into Raven’s arms. They cling to one another; mourning for a normal simple life that they know will never be something they can have. Moira finds it a comfort that she isn’t alone in her bizarre misery, even though she hates it at the same time what Raven has been through. As fast as she went in for the hug, Raven pulls back with a real smile.

  “Come on babe, you can’t stay cooped up all day. Everyone is waiting for you to eat with us.” Raven tells her patiently.

  Sighing, she realizes that Raven is right, she can’t hide out. The days for staying hidden and having to be protected like a fragile thing, is no more. She is anything but fragile, and she feels a rage at herself for even wanting to cower in self-pity. Especially since Marty can’t be saved if she hides out like a hermit. And that is what she wants to do, save the boy that came after her even though she betrayed him. She vows to get him back, no matter what. Swiftly turning and dropping her legs over the side of the bed, Moira nods at Raven. Who offers her a confident smile, and it’s one for sure that makes Moira feel confident in herself as well. It nice to have a plan now, even a half-baked one. At least it’ll have time to simmer while she works on it; might as well put some good use in her new and improved persona.

  ***

  Pacing the length of his father’s study, Liam has to wonder why he is even waiting for the man to come in. It’s not like he didn’t already explain everything that went down the last couple of weeks the night before. Hell, he went into the best detail that even is in explaining; so really, what’s left? His father is a perfectionist, he knows, so it should be a s
urprise that the man wants another run down.

  He should be used to it by now; it’s something that he and his father have been doing for years when he would come home back from pack business. He is unnaturally nervous for reasons he can’t explain though. It could be that he has to recap everything that happened again to him, and still nothing changes in Liam’s story; no matter how repetitive there interactions are.

  It’s nice to see that his father’s sacred space hasn’t changed while he was away; in that it is the size of a small living room, and has a much lived in feeling, like he is there more often than not. On the right side of the house, it has a large double window that faces an ever growing herb garden. At the back wall with the windows, is his desk that is a dark mahogany wood. In front of the desk are two welcoming comfortable chairs, and there is a matching sofa to the right of the room with a coffee table.

  On the left of the room is a matching wood bookcase, but resembles a small library. There is a door to the right of the shelves, that leads to the actual library; that has become Liam’s favorite space over the years. The bottom shelves are enclosed and are locked cabinets; where he keeps pack files. The walls are white, but the rug is a deep maroon color that makes the room, seem more decorated than it really is.

  He circles the room until he comes to the bookshelf, and spies a photograph that is from when he was younger; it has his mother in it. Liam has never really been one to be clingy or dependent on his parents. But seeing the photo of his mom just brings the memory that she was taken by Fletcher, and is probably being tortured at this very moment. It doesn’t exactly set well with him, and neither do the recent events either.

  He is just reaching for the picture of a younger version of himself is playing on a beach, with his mother laughing in the background; when the door to the library opens. Filing his losses in the back of his mind to deal with later, Liam glances up at his father while backing away from the bookshelf.