..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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Kat would have never dreamed his feelings for her had been so monumental. After the explosive argument on their last night together, she had been so sure that he would come back. That there couldn't possibly be an end to them. They fought hard, but they had also loved hard. She had gone to bed that night so sure he would turn up the next day, grinning that grin of his, and it would all be okay. They could pretend it had never happened, just like always. And then she would kiss him, take him to bed...and the argument would be forgotten. Wasn't that how it had always worked? She had never dreamed there could be an alternate possibility. But oh, there had been. And how it had hurt.

He hadn't come back to her. Not the next day, nor the day after that. He had never returned to her, and it had never occurred to Kat that the words so harshly thrown in that argument could have been responsible for that. No, Kat had always assumed he had just been done with her. That he had grown tired of her feisty ways. And in time, she had managed to convince herself that he had never loved her in the first place.

She would have also never guessed that her appearance had changed so drastically over the years. She had lived a hard life, but having grown accustomed to the changes in the mirror she was not aware of just how ghostly she looked. Like a mere shell of the vibrant woman she once was. Time had not weathered her flesh with wrinkles, but still her skin was cast with a sickly glow. If she were to remove her clothing, the scars littered on the territory of her body would be jarring. At least half a dozen crescent shaped scars existed on the swells of her breasts and on her shoulders--bite marks. Those were the worst, because these were scars she had not given to herself. They would marr her forever, force her to remember when all she wanted to do was forget. Her eyes, once wide and full of life, were now sunken and hollow. Hopeless. Her once beautifully curvy body was all angles now, and she had no value for it. She had been used up, truthfully, and after so many years of abuse she had no respect for what should have been her sacred temple. It was just another way to be hurt. That was a lesson she had learned hard and fast in her marriage, and would likely never forget. Paige had been the last to touch her in a way that did not cause her to cringe out of fear. Paige had been the last tenderness she had known. And somewhere, in the great span of those years, she had forgotten completely what that was like.

Oh, she wanted to hurt him. Tear into him and make him feel a fraction of what she was feeling now! She wanted to scream and rage and cry and collapse, all these things at once. She hated him, hated him for making her feel this way... but oh, how she hated herself even more for letting her hurt show! For letting it exist at all! Moisture collected int he dark pools of her eyes, tears born from the blinding hot anger that was coursing through her every capillary. As she yelled at him, those angry tears spilled to her cheeks, making wet little rivers in the crusted blood on her flesh. She wasn't even aware of there existence, however...no, she was far too involved in letting him have it.

Oh, why wasn't he saying anything? Did he still not recognize her? That look on his face, that frozen way in which he stood...didn't he remember her at all? Kat's mind raced fervently, her emotions putting her on a self destructive autopilot. She didn't realize the dizziness was coming in waves until it had drowned her completely, casting her against his body and forcing her to use him to complete the simple task of staying upright. A soft, muffled groan escaped her as his scent enveloped her, casting her immediately back to that night. That last terrible night when she had lost him. She let out a choking sound, and meekly tried to push away...she had to get away, after all. In that moment, she could have sworn her very sanity demanded that she put as much distance between them as possible. She couldn't do it, couldn't be there with him...couldn't let herself be eveloped by the ghost of a love long past.

But then, it was too late.

His arms rose and wrapped around her frail frame, supporting her against the wall of his chest. She faintly realized she had been right...there was nothing doughy about him anymore. He had replaced that softness with hard, lean muscle...it felt as if she were resting against a concrete wall. Except, no wall could ever smell so inviting, could ever provide so much comfort. Now wall could ever make the tears course down her cheeks like a silent river, hotly soaking into the fabric of his shirt. And no wall could ever utter such tenderness as she found in the tone of that old nickname when he spoke. She choked back a sob as he spoke, her feeble attempts at pulling away suddenly flowing right out of her.

Kitten. He had called her kitten.

He remembered.

She felt suddenly frozen, unable to even draw a coherent thought. She lifted her head from the muscled terrain of his chest, the edges of her vision going black as her body threatened throw her into unconsciousness. Her dark eyes lifted slowly, still trekking those angry tears, "You remember? You remember me?" Her husky voice was barely above a dry and wretched whisper, and if he even heard her it would be a small miracle. Her surroundings played tilt-a-whirl with her again as he shifted her, and she let out a small sound of protest when he let her bags fall to the ground. "Hey..." She tried to protest, tried to pull away...but she had about the same force as a wounded baby bird at that point. The dizziness was overwhelming, and oh, how she wanted a drink. Something, anything to make the wretched emotions she was feeling go away. In the next instant, she found herself being lifted and settled in the passenger seat of the truck. He handled her as if she weighed no more than a bag of feathers, depositing her neatly inside without even a hint of effort.

The defiant, self preserving part of her instructed her to get out. Get out now. If she stayed here, went with him wherever he had planned, she might truly, really go insane. Her broken mind could not take much more, and she feared that this would be enough to put her over the edge. She had spent countless years burying him in his past. Blockading his memory in every way she could. One single moment had torn that all away, and the glaring light of recognition was more than she could bear. She moved to get out, but her body protested with pain so sharp it brought on another threatening wave of dizziness. She bit deeply into her bottom lip, almost enough to draw blood, to keep from yelping. She relaxed against the seat, taking a deep and shaky breath. Fine. She would go with him. Let him get her into a hotel room. And then, she would down a pill or two and cut this all away. And then? Then she would sleep. And if she woke, she would pretend this had all been a bad, bad dream.

Her watery brown eyes drifted to him once more. "Why? Why are you doing this?" She spoke before she wasd even aware she had intended to. But the question was sound enough. He hadn't loved her...hadn't even cared enough to remember her until she had all but forced him to. Why then, did he care now?

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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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