Low Tide

"Is everything on this island tropical themed?"

From his post at the door, Darian thought it a fair question. He had steered clear of tiki huts, floating bars, dueling pianos, and the cloying strains of Jimmy Buffett tunes, which left him with little in the way of choice. This bar was less thematic than most, but even it boasted a palm tree made of a neon tubing and a specialty drink served in a coconut. He took off a lightweight coat and hung it from a hook near his chair... A hook which, on closer inspection, was shaped like a pelican beak.

So that issue was settled, at least. He was in hell.

Upon sitting down, he straightened his tie and looked around. Roxanne, the client he chased to the island, was more adept at staying off his radar than Darian could've imagined. She was not a guest in any hotel. He concluded that she'd settled herself in for a long-term stay, perhaps taken up a job and an apartment share (it was either that or admit the worse alternative-- that she'd already left the island, leaving him picking sand out of his teeth, without a clue as to her next destination).

( Awakening )

Being chained to somebody was more inconvenient than Hayden realized.

Getting out of the Jeep at the two-story house was bad enough. He tried to be a gentleman; he let Bethany exit the passenger side and climbed across the gearshift to do the same. Then there was the blonde's facial expression when she realized he was a renter... A renter who only had the bottom floor of a modest building, which he crammed with second-hand furniture. He wasn't used to spending time with snobs, but here he was, literally attached to one, and it was all he could do to keep his mouth shut.

Later, when she announced her desire for a shower, it got worse. With several feet of chain between them, Hayden had to outstretch his arm and stand in the doorway. The door of his shower stall was made of distortion-glass, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw flesh-colored woman twisting and turning. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them. "How you plan to get dressed, I don't know," he said over the water. "Unless your outfit doesn't require you to stick your arm through it. Which leaves what... a tube top?" Actually, that kind-of cracked him up. The only alternative was a blouse that buttoned at the shoulders, 1980s style. He supposed she could stick her arm through, but that ate up precious links of chain, and they might end up touching.

And this is just the first hurdle. Wait 'til sleeping arrangements.

( No Personal Space )

After her friend's "unfortunate" disappearance, Bethany's life had improved tenfold. She'd gotten her claws on that well-deserved promotion and had been bringing in changes to the work place fast, meaning she no longer wished to carve chunks out of people or remove eyeballs from sockets. It wasn't a permanent solution, but it would suffice for the time being. Bethany did have her eyes set elsewhere, but she needed collateral before she could lose the job. All in good time.

Given that she was and would always be a woman of her vices, Bethany had grown rather fond of a coffee brewed by a store not that far from where she lived. It had to be completely black with no sugar before she drank it though.

( Standing in Line, Minding Their Own Business, When... )

Body disposal was nothing short of dirty work, from the moving of the body to the dispatching of certain parts of the anatomy that would hasten an identification.

The fortunate thing about Bethany Richards was her willingness to get her hands dirty, to finish the brutality she’d started, so she didn’t flinch when she did what needed to be done. It was truly amazing what one could do with a pair of wire cutters, pliers and knife, if you truly put your mind to it and had the ferocity that the ill deed required.

The neighbourhood was by far the roughest that this new city had to offer, which was perfect for this. Nobody asked questions and nobody stopped to inquire as to what an attractive blonde was doing in the dark alley with a set of tools usually seen on tool belts or kitchens.

Long hair had been swept back into a highly efficient plait that was then curled around on itself, forming a low bun, keeping wayward strands from escaping and ruining her vision.

( Nothing Personal )

( Introductions )

It should have been elementary, should have been easy to figure out, but this new world had turned her around until Bethany could no longer tell what was and wasn’t, it had taken the reality of the moment such as it was for Bethany to latch onto a part of herself that had been caged, shackled by confusion and lost in doubt.

All it had taken was for her fingers to curl around the woman’s neck, blunt tips of nails digging into skin leaving traces of crescent shaped moons behind, and the desperate scramble for air for Bethany to realise that it wasn’t a matter of biding her time.

It was about seizing the day, putting an end to all of this and shutting the girl's mouth once and for all. She'd barely even blinked as the girl had finally slipped, disregarding her plea filled eyes in favour of squeezing the last remnants of life from her. It was too easy, it always was, especially as she had no attachment to the girl.

( Vanishing Act )

Bethany had come to the conclusion that the sooner she remedied this… work situation the better, it was currently unacceptable and she was a hairsbreadth away from putting the nearest sharp implement through the eye of her co-worker who had no brain to mouth filter. What kept her from giving in to that impulse was the reminder that rent was due and as ridiculously expensive as it was it was still the roof over her head. Bethany was in no lifetime - even one as shitty as this - being homeless and on the streets.

Currently Bethany was finishing up her shift, glancing at the clock out of the corner of her eye before smoothing back a strand of hair, feeling the frustration build as time seemed to drag on forever.

Of course having nothing much to do was good for one thing: getting a read of her co-workers and more importantly the so-called friend that had stolen the promotion and was currently doing the manager. If this had been another place and another time, Bethany would have respected the girl for going after what she wanted, but as it directly impacted on Bethany’s life Bethany held the woman in nothing but contempt.

She took a moment to count her tips and smiled at the amount, obviously the flirting had paid off in just the way she expected. Maybe just maybe she’d be able to afford a pair of boots soon. The mere idea that she had to save up for one pair of boots was… sickening and vomit inducing, but it wouldn’t be for long, this much Bethany was sure of.

( Making Life Better )

It was only when Bethany was halfway through her spontaneous bonfire that she realised that if she burnt everything in the wardrobe then she would quite literally have nothing to wear.

Frantically she stamped out the lingering flames and did her best to dose the ever growing fire. It was only when she regarded a blackened piece of ruined denim that she felt her mood darken, not for the first time on this day.

Bethany's eyes cut to the ruined clothing in front of her and grimaced faintly as she came to the conclusion that she was in fact going to have to wear what was left of this woman's wardrobe.

God help her.

( Off To Work )

The first thing to wake Bethany Richards was the cut of sunlight over a previously scarred piece of skin and the second was the dawning realisation that all wasn't right with the world.

Firstly, she was lying in cotton sheets beneath a cracked ceiling. Secondly, there was a mass of pink as far as the eye could see. And thirdly not only was her hair in pigtails but it had bows in it, pink bows at that.

Initially the confusion over where she was filled every inch of her mind with questions until memories overwhelmed them. This place, this body, it was her and yet not. She had her own memories, the tangible ones of being pregnant and together with Darian, but she also had new ones. They were disorientating and on occasion blinding, almost as if she was in some sort of waking dream and she couldn't escape.

To gain some control and equilibrium Bethany ripped away the bows and allowed the long strands some much needed freedom, moving from bed a mere second later. Her strides took her into a miniscule bathroom and a hand groped blindly for the nearby cord to bathe the area in a yellow light, allowing her a moment to regard herself.

( Will Not Do )