versusnurture | fifteen ♢ spam

spam } barge, day 1

[Abigail is different. Noticeably so - but not, precisely, abnormally.]

[She does not realize this. She isn't trying to fit in. She is too sharp, too vicious, too angry to make any kind of effort at concealment. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, she doesn't look out of place.]

[She looks like a girl who has snapped. She looks like a girl who is graduating.]

[Fury simmers in her eyes; she keeps her eyes forward until someone speaks to her, and then she snaps and snarls like a trapped dog. For the most part, she stays with Ben or in public areas, where people mill around, where she can get decently lost in the crowd - but back her into a corner when she's alone and she's likely to lash out with any weapons she has to hand.]

spam } port, remainder

[The planet is arid. Abigail has been set free. Curiously, this doesn't make her feel any better. She doesn't feel free - she feels like she's been released into a trap.]

[The smart thing to do would be to ally herself with the people in the city, and for a while she tries. She can be found among them for the first day on the ground, but she's still too anxious to stay for long, so she ventures out into the fringes, where she can count the number of people around her.]

spam } port, for ceres

[She's been here for two days. Nothing's changed. She isn't suspected as an outsider by the people down here, but then again this is an interminable place; she can't escape here because there's nowhere to escape to, and she's still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Ben can't be far away, no matter what he said, not this version of him. He believes too strongly.]

[When she ventures into the center of the city again, for lack of anything more concrete to do, it isn't long before she runs across someone she knows. Her fear response is immediate and noticeable, her pupils dilating, breath quickening, muscles tensing. Anger follows quickly, paranoia right on its heels.]

Did he send you?

spam } port, for ben

[It's worse this time than when Hannibal killed her. It was a gentle death, this time, but in its own way terrible. It was not intimate. And now . . .]

[Now everything hurts. Despite herself, despite what she knows and where she is, she cries out for Ben. Quickly enough she stifles her cries, but hidden in an alley in the center of the city, she can't imagine she'll avoid his attention for long.]

[Not that it matters. She hurts too much to move.]

( ooc; abigail is unaffected for the desperate to deliver plot! her mirror barge backstory is here. )

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No!

[She's crying now, big wet tears running down her face in a torrent, and it's not attractive crying and it's not dignified but she's gone somewhere dignity and appearance don't matter anymore. He's going to kill her, or worse, take her back, but trying to pull away from him hurts too much to try for more than a moment.]

I won't beg you, I won't, I won't, but I won't go back, either, Ben, I'm not going, I want to - I want--

[To be herself, to be Abigail, to be what this creature she didn't want to see again would never let her be. Her own creation, her own monster, her own heart and soul bared for the world to see or concealed if she'd rather.]

[He won't let her be, and he won't let her go, but she fights weakly anyway until she falls to her knees in pain. Her tears fall with a soft crash into the dust.]

[She's crying, and it genuinely hurts him, genuinely distresses him as she begins thrashing against his hold with more life than she's shown him in months. She defies him more in her death than she has in her life within his easy memory.

But even without the advantage a death toll inherently gives him, he is stronger than she is and he is quick to gather her in against him when she begins to sag, keeping her from her knees, collecting her in close where he can support her with his own strength and try to wipe the tears back from her cheeks with his warm, dry hands.]

Abigail, shhhh, Abigail, it's okay.

It's okay. It's okay. See?

[He smooths back her hair like Anya does his, and in his helplessness, holds onto her more tightly.] There's nothing to fear. You don't even know what you want, but I won't allow anyone to harm you for their own ends.

[The sick thing is, she moves into his embrace like it's all she's ever wanted. He holds her, and it feels like safety, the same way Hannibal's arms felt like safety - and she knows that, she does, but she is so starved for love that for a moment she lets herself give into it.]

[One second, two, three, four, five, and she tries to break away, away from his hands in her hair, away from his sick-sweetness, rosehips in the dust on the air. She sobs and screams and beats her fists against his shoulders, let me go, let me go, let me go.]

I know what I don't want! I don't want you!

[But Ben, who believes in her, who wants what's best for her, who had hoped that she could stay here on this planet and be safe and instead finds her dead and death tolling and failed her in this, too, does not let go. He does stop stroking her hair, made even more certain by the way she leaned into him, by the way she surrendered for even a moment that he is right in this.

She needs him. He had been angry with Jesse once, too, but he had come around, and he is safe and happy now, he is blessed. His arms tighten, hoping to keep her from injuring herself, unbothered by the hail of blows across his shoulders and chest.]

But Abigail, I want you. Even in your denial, I still want you.

[She's screaming. She can't stop screaming. She just wants him to turn her loose; she is reminded suddenly and sickeningly of her parents' kitchen, her father's knife at her throat, the blood trickling down her neck and the pain, the blinding pain, she can't breathe. But she can. But she can't.]

What you want doesn't matter! You don't get to make me care about you after you hurt me!

[A different person entirely from the girl who talked him into taking her down to the planet; a different species. She is reactive, volatile, helpless, but trying anyway, trying to get away. She knows it's hopeless, but she doesn't care. She fights.]

[She wonders how long it will be until she dies again.]

Everyone hurts everyone. You have to pay attention to the how to be able to tell the difference, Abigail.

[His voice is low, meant to be soothing, unflappable in the face of her struggles. The problem is that she's drawing attention, that they are not alone here, though she is human and he is close enough to pass inspection for the true blow of hatred that characterizes this place to find. She is a creature reborn under his hands and that is not entirely lost on him, but for the time being, he knows they cannot stay here.

She can't breathe very well, even if she were a match for him at the peak of her health. He adjusts the grip of his arms, tightens ever so slightly, and begins to stand.]

I forgive you. Come along, we'll find someplace safe, and we can talk about what happened. It's okay.

I still love you.

[She is exhausting herself. She can feel energy leaving her limbs as he speaks and hates herself for it. This isn't how it was supposed to happen. Death was supposed to be freedom. Why can't she get anything that she wants? Anything she needs?]

I don't love you, [she sobs, her fists slowing in their pounding against his chest, her violence dying as quickly as it was born.] I don't love you at all. I love the Ben who would let me go.

fifteen ♢ spam

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