Heather Mason (thefauxblonde) wrote in harmony_fics, @ 2010-09-29 12:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | author: colleen, heather mason, walter sullivan, walter/heather |
WHO: Walter Sullivan, Heather Mason
WHAT: Walter is bored and Heather is freaked out.
WHERE: Heather's apartment
WHEN: IDK...Whenever Lisa's was set. XD
WARNING: Profanity, a bit of tl;dr, possibly poorly edited, not as good as Lisa's.
NOTES: God I’m late. I’m so sorry, Lisa. :(
Sometimes living off campus was more of a pain than it was worth. Sure, the dorms had been broken into and dorm life seriously sucked but it was annoying to walk back and forth from campus every day with a backpack full of books. Maybe if terrible parking near the campus didn't make driving impossible it would be worth it but, for right now, it was a crappy situation from either side.
So, like usual, Heather was in a bad mood as she fished for her keys out of her purse. At least she didn’t have to work that day. It left her free to do whatever she wanted. And by whatever she wanted, she meant homework.
Shoving the door open, the girl moved to swing her backpack off her back and froze. Sitting on a couch, looking like he damn well owned the place, was Walter Sullivan.
At first she was pretty sure she was hallucinating. Things like that didn't happen, right? He was a creepy weirdo but he wouldn't break into her apartment, right? RIGHT? And how did he even know where she lived? And why did it seem like her door hadn't been forced open? And why didn't anyone wonder why some tall creepy guy with long hair was walking into her apartment? And most importantly: WHY WAS HE HERE?
If she was any lesser of a person, she would have been hyperventilating. But instead, she was frozen in shock, trying to figure out what she should say. Eventually, she decided to say the dumbest thing that came to mind.
"Stanley, attack!"
Stanley wasn't an attack dog, not by any stretch of the imagination. Sure, he was pretty much full grown now and thus had calmed down a little but that still didn't change the fact that he would never attack a person, no matter how badly she wanted him to. However, it didn't really matter that she had just shouted an order that would just confuse the poor dog because he wasn't around to hear it. As far as she could tell, he wasn't even in the apartment. If he was in a place where he couldn't get to her, he would usually whimper pathetically until someone took pity on him. But there was no whimpering or even scratching. But then again, it was hard to hear anything over the sound of the blood rushing through her ears.
"How are—What..." she breathed out, when her tongue finally started moving again. Well that was a good start. Stutter like an idiot while the home invader continued to watch on. Way to assert yourself.
"What was that?" Walter said, practically basking in her inability to speak.
Coloring with indignation, Heather finally snapped out of her shock and threw her bags to the side. If she needed to run, they would only hold her back. Not that she had any intention of running out of her own apartment. That was just cowardly.
"What are you doing here?! How did you get in?!" she shouted.
"Do I need a reason? And how do you think I got in?"
"Yes, you need a reason and cut the freakin' crap!"
He only chuckled.
"How did you get in here? How do you even know where I live?' she bit out, growing more and more livid as the seconds ticked by, which probably didn’t help her much.
"I don't see why that's important."
"I DO!" Oh, screw it, she was getting nowhere this way. "Get out! Now!"
He seemed to be expecting that command. "Make me."
Oh, she remembered saying that to him the other day. It was impossible not to recognize it with how mockingly he had said it. She glowered and reached into her pocket.
"Get out or I'll call the cops!"
"For what?"
She was almost left speechless by that comment. For what? FOR WHAT?! How could it not be obvious? "Breaking and entering, you freak!"
He held up a hand and revealed a small metallic object. "It isn't breaking in with a key."
What? WHAT?! How did he get a key?! There was no way. She was so incredibly dumbfounded by the new development that she completely missed the fact that it didn't matter shit that he had a key. If she told the cops that she didn't want him there, they could still come and arrest him, no questions asked. She also completely missed him standing up and coming closer until he was just a foot from her.
Letting out a gasp, Heather darted past him into the living room. Which was an awful idea. He calmly shut the door that she had left open, effectively cutting off any chances for her to get away. The fire escape didn't connect to her room and she was all the way up on the fifth floor. She was completely and utterly fucked.
The idea was kind of terrifying actually. And rather...out of place. Sure, Walter was weird and creepy and she hated him but he had never hurt her. But then again, he had never done anything like this before so clearly he was full of surprises. Bad surprises. Really, really bad surprises.
But no, she could handle this. She was only a victim if she let herself be one. She could get him out of her apartment...somehow. Without thinking, she reached into her pocket again and pulled out a small switchblade that she always kept on her out of sheer habit.
"Leave now or I'll stab you!" That didn't sound nearly as threatening as she hoped it would. Maybe it was because the weapon was so freaking dinky. Or maybe because she was so much smaller than him. Or maybe because she was actually kind of scared, which would undermine a commanding tone just a bit. Regardless, things would be so much better if she had a gun.
"Will you?" Walter strolled over to her and she unconsciously backed up. She tried to continue to glare at him while figuring out how to motivate herself into stabbing him. If she actually did it, his blood would be all over her apartment. That would be...disgusting. She tried to convince herself that that was the reason she was hesitating.
"Yes, I will. Stay back!" No, not stay back. Leave! Leave! That's what she was supposed to say! Think straight already!
He was right in front of her. If he wanted to, he could reach out, grab her, and snap her neck. After that pleasant thought, she kind of panicked.
Reflexively, she stabbed out. Her jab was in the general direction of his gut. Maybe if she had been lucky she would have hit a kidney. Or, you know, hit at all. Instead, Walter's reflexes proved faster than hers and he grabbed her wrist. Her arm was twisted until she was bent awkwardly, desperately hoping her wrist didn't snap.
She utterly sucked at this, it seemed. All those fights she had been in during her life? Clearly they were against complete wimps.
"Let me go," she hissed. There was still a bit of fight there despite the increasing bleakness of the situation, which made her a little proud. Maybe this wasn't too bad. She could still fight back with her freehand. Maybe she should shove her thumb in his eye or...
As if sensing her thoughts, he suddenly twisted her arm until it was behind her back. Her shoulder cracked and she yelped more out of surprise then pain. As her mind tried to catch up to the situation, Walter leaned forward. All movement stopped and she tried not to have a full blown panic attack.
"Well? What will you do now?" he taunted.
Think, think. "I'll scream!"
He adjusted his grip on her wrist and plucked the knife from her hand. Then he moved it in front of her, waving it dangerously close to her eye. Instantly her free hand (that had futilely tried to claw at him behind her before) reached up and grabbed his hand. She tried to push him away but it proved remarkably ineffective. Who would have thought that the guy who was nearly a foot taller than her was actually a lot stronger too?
"Then scream."
Without really thinking, she did. She screamed and thrashed and made one last desperate attempt to get out of his grip. The movement made the knife cut along her cheek, coming dangerously close to her eye and trimming off a few errant strands of hair. Surprisingly, though, she was released. Either she had actually taken him by surprise or cutting her was as much damage as he intended to do. The sudden freedom came as a surprise and she stumbled forward, nearly bashing her head on an end table but managing to catch herself on the couch at the last second. She rolled over and stared at Walter, her expression a mix of shock and indignation.
"What the hell?!" she shrieked, rubbing at the now bleeding scar from where she sat against the couch. How the hell was she supposed to explain this?
"That was your fault."
"Bullshit! What if it needs stitches?! You’ll pay for it!" Wait, shouldn't she be threatening to have him arrested? Why couldn't she think today?
"It's not that deep. You'll live." Once again, he managed to walk right up to her without her noticing. Backing up from him this time was impossible and trying to push him away would also be stupid so she just sat there, staring wearily up at him, letting blood slowly drip down to her chin. All the anger that she had built up before had been wasted on her useless shouting. Now, she was almost scared again.
The knife was stabbed into the couch right next to her leg and she winced. It was a crappy couch, but that didn't mean she was super happy to see it get ruined. Still, not a complaint bubbled up. Instead, when she finally did find her tongue, she only said, "Get out."
He grabbed her chin and she grimaced as it tugged at the scar. "You say I make empty threats...yet you still haven't stabbed me."
Her eyes widened. That's why he was here? To prove her wrong over something she had said over the internet? What the hell?! Why had that gotten to him? She had said worse to him before. If he was going to overreact this much, maybe she should start watching what she said. Or at the very least, keep better track of her keys.
"Well?" His grip tightened on her jaw.
The idea of stabbing him, while attractive, was pretty impossible when you weren't able to move. And anyway, he would probably just stop her again. That's now what he wanted. Unfortunately, she had a pretty good idea of what it was he did want. Heather finally bit back her pride. "I'm sorry."
Her chin was released. Instantly she looked down, pretending to be inspecting the damage done to her couch as Walter finally turned and left her apartment. The sound of the door clicking shut, made her quickly stand up, pull the knife from the sofa, and head to the bathroom; the only place in the apartment that had a mirror. Surprisingly, Stanley was in there, wearing his leash and cleverly tied to the faucet. If she hadn't been so exhausted, Heather was pretty sure she would have cried.