..What If.. -- Club Alien

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What if I'm a snowstorm burning?

What if I'm a world unturning?

What if I'm an ocean, far too shallow

Much too deep?

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His line of thinking might have even closer to the truth than either of them realized. In his own way, Paige was her last hope, the last thread that suspended her over the abyss of hopelessness...though she didn't know it. He had, after all, set the bar for her quite young. He had been her first in all the ways that had counted...and had been the only to treat her as a human being. That small, wounded part of her that she refused to acknowledge had always secretly hoped that she would come across another that would give her the treatment she deserved. The treatment he had shown her, so many years ago. It was only too bad the larger part of her, the part that craved self destruction, drowned out the innocence of that young, idealistic girl within. After a while, when pain was all one had come to know, it had become like a drug in itself. Better than the sweetest line of powder, better than the bitterest of pills. For Kat, pain was reality, a grounding force that brought her back into herself when the rest of the world became too much to accept. It made her feel whole, as demented as it might have sounded to anyone she might try to explain it to. It was why she had never broken free of the bonds of her old life. It was why she had made excuses in the ER to suspecting doctors. It was why she had never ran. It had become her own personal drug, better than all the rest. It had become her deliverance.

Her palm, still gritty with the gravel of the pavement from her fall, was sending lightening bolts of pain up her arm in protest of the slap she'd delivered to his stubbled face. Kat latched on to the freshness of that sting, using it as her anchor to keep her feet planted in this world when the rest of her wanted to cave and give way to unconsciousness. She'd never felt so much like fainting in her life as she did then, but she'd be damned if she fell away into unconsciousness like some cheesy broad in a romance novel. The fact was, she simply refused to deal with this. She wasn't going to accept her past, despite the fact that he was standing there in all his glory right there behind her. She had become a runner in the past week, after all. Had found peace in her ability to just disappear. There was sweetness in refusal...freedom in denial. So she would do it again...run away, take some pills and forget this whole thing had ever happened. And if that didn't work, well, there was always pain. A razor to release and clean away what all the other remedies could not.

His shock might have been comical in any other situation. Instead, it only pissed her off even more, because it proved he didn't have the damnedest clue who she was. She supposed she had always known her importance to him could not have equaled what she had felt for him, but in the moment it only enraged her further. She didn't look back, taking satisfaction from the wounded shock in his voice. It served him well, and her only regret was that she couldn't deliver another to match on his other cheek.

His next words did cause her to stop, however, if only because she still remembered after all these years how terrifying the warehouse was. Lethal beings lurked within those walls, always had. Even young and carefree, it had not even been a place the old group had haunted. A single ruger would never help her there. Kat stopped, her nails digging into the broken flesh of her palms as she closed her eyes. She attempted to steady herself, because suddenly she felt like weeping from the pure absurdity of her own luck. And THAT simply could not happen. Fresh blood spilled from the aggravated wounds, half moon crescents welling with her sticky sustenance on the surface of her flesh. The air was thick and suffocating around her, but if she just focused on that pain, on that fresh flow...

His next words swept away that urge, however, and blew life into the flames of her anger. She whirled, bridging the gap between them with a glare hot enough to make Satan himself break a sweat. "Don't know what you did, huh?" She all but spat at him, her legs beginning to move before she was even aware of her own momentum. As she drew closer to him, she hastily snatched the haphazard red locks from around her bloodied face, pushing them back to more clearly reveal her features. "It's more like what you didn't do, ten fucking years ago! But that doesn't matter to you, does it?" She barked a humorless laugh, letting her hair fall back into place. She was damn near toe to toe with him again, and was still too full of steam to even realize it. "Allow me to introduce myself, because its clear I didn't deserve a place in your memory. My name is Katalina. But you always preferred to call me Kat." Goddamn it, it hurt that he didn't remember her, and that only served to piss her off even more! That he should still be able to effect her emotions made her angry. That he should forget her pissed her off. That their history had meant more to her than to him made her irate. And she didn't know why! Why did she care about how this'll felt? Why did she care if he had never cared for her? Wasn't that something she had already known? Well fuck, she at least deserved recognition, right? "Oh, what would it matter to you anyway?" She growled about his last statement, though it took some of the fight out of her. She felt, simply put, like she had gotten into a tango with a Mack truck...and lost. She had no where to go, and she was standing here with a ghost. Could it get worse?

Her stare was hard and accusatory as she started at him. She remembered him fully, how could she not? He had once been the biggest part of her life. She still remembered the day they had met. She had been nursing a drink in some club when he had approached. He had hit on her...and she had called him a pig. Somehow, he'd persisted...and 'Pig' had turned from an intended insult to a term of endearment. And the rest, as they say, had been history. "Still swine, I see. Only it's not cute anymore." Her broke lips curved into a humorless grin, just as another wave of dizziness hit her. She stumbled forward, her bloodied palms splaying on his chest as she caught her fall against his body. "Fuck.. She groaned, not even bothering to push away as she waited for the world to stop tilting like he world's worst carnival ride.

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What if I'm the kindest demon?

Something you might not believe in

What if I'm a siren singing gentlemen

To sleep?

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