10-23-2017, 04:59 PM
She'd been walking the razor's edge for as long as she could remember. Flirting with risk; waiting for the consequences to grab her by the throat, knowing one day it would not let go, and perhaps then she would discover the answer she sought.
Natalie knew full well the destruction she was capable of. Knew she could burn this lab to the ground, all of them in it, or wrench bones and limbs like rag dolls. The discovery had lit her heels with the urge to run before, and she'd fled continents to do it, still searching for something she was never quite sure of. Africa had provided peace for a while - an equilibrium she longed for now, the sense of belonging by choice rather than necessity. But the memories were tainted now. She thought of the refinery massacre. Azu's decision to stay. The pain wasn't easing; it filled up an empty void in her chest. A numbing helplessness.
The straps bit and the panic began to rear again. Helpless. Trapped.
No.
She refused to be a victim. She forced herself to stillness, to concentrate on the rise and fall of her lungs like it was the only thing that mattered. She pictured the light igniting in her veins; welcoming it even if it seared her to ash. But the doubt was still there, and the light didn't come. The only thing she managed to do was to ride out the panic attack.
Then came a voice. The pad of footsteps. Natalie stiffened, braced for the unknown, her nails carving crescents into the flesh of her palms. Her pale eyes settled on the stranger that came to loom above and an instinctual fear roiled in her belly, repulsed by her vulnerability. But the same fear crawling her skin fired her courage now that she had something to focus on. She'd spit in the eye of the devil. She would not cower. A muscle twitched in her jaw. Assessing. Angry and powerless. "Are you sure I'd run."
Her voice was hoarse, throat lined with blades, but there was an unmistakable challenge. The threat that fleeing would come secondary to revenge.
It betrayed every animal instinct, but she tore her gaze away from that gaunt, impassive face. The light didn't come. The fear was still there. So was the hope. It galled her to engage in the game he played, this pretence of affability, but she also knew it was probably her best chance of playing for time. "My name is Natalie Grey."
Natalie knew full well the destruction she was capable of. Knew she could burn this lab to the ground, all of them in it, or wrench bones and limbs like rag dolls. The discovery had lit her heels with the urge to run before, and she'd fled continents to do it, still searching for something she was never quite sure of. Africa had provided peace for a while - an equilibrium she longed for now, the sense of belonging by choice rather than necessity. But the memories were tainted now. She thought of the refinery massacre. Azu's decision to stay. The pain wasn't easing; it filled up an empty void in her chest. A numbing helplessness.
The straps bit and the panic began to rear again. Helpless. Trapped.
No.
She refused to be a victim. She forced herself to stillness, to concentrate on the rise and fall of her lungs like it was the only thing that mattered. She pictured the light igniting in her veins; welcoming it even if it seared her to ash. But the doubt was still there, and the light didn't come. The only thing she managed to do was to ride out the panic attack.
Then came a voice. The pad of footsteps. Natalie stiffened, braced for the unknown, her nails carving crescents into the flesh of her palms. Her pale eyes settled on the stranger that came to loom above and an instinctual fear roiled in her belly, repulsed by her vulnerability. But the same fear crawling her skin fired her courage now that she had something to focus on. She'd spit in the eye of the devil. She would not cower. A muscle twitched in her jaw. Assessing. Angry and powerless. "Are you sure I'd run."
Her voice was hoarse, throat lined with blades, but there was an unmistakable challenge. The threat that fleeing would come secondary to revenge.
It betrayed every animal instinct, but she tore her gaze away from that gaunt, impassive face. The light didn't come. The fear was still there. So was the hope. It galled her to engage in the game he played, this pretence of affability, but she also knew it was probably her best chance of playing for time. "My name is Natalie Grey."