Helena Narrative Who: Helena and a good samaritan What: A new home Where: A bridge When: Post plot Warnings/Rating: Referenced nakedness, sexy times and madness.
Expulsion. (She only left the hospital to get her journal and to talk to Dr Lecter, not to get sucked into the hotel's madness.) A hard crash of knees to asphalt, hands out in front of her to keep her face from colliding with the road. It shouldn't be her knees though, it shouldn't, she had pants on - but she doesn't now. A glance tells her that. There are no pants, no panties, no bra or tank top or t-shirt or fucking anything at all on her body. And when she tries to get a foot under her, push herself off the road before she gets hit by a fucking car, she can feel the drag of her thighs.
The taste in her mouth.
The tears want to start, she can feel water in her eyes, the sting in her sinuses as one arm wraps protectively around her breasts, her other hand acting as a mask for her genitals - and then it stops. Her teeth clench together so hard that it hurts and she remembers. There is no weakness in her body, it is in her mind. And that time is over.
Her body remains hunched as she crosses the bridge, but she doesn't jump when she hears a car behind her, or a horn. A pretty blond head sticks out of a window.
"Hey! Are you okay?"
She turns, but does not speak, just looks at the face of the woman, concern upon her features and the man behind her who is decidedly not looking at her. A shake of her head. No words, her voice isn't ready.
"C'mon, we've got a blanket in the trunk, we'll take you to the hospital okay?"
A nod. The woman steps out, fetches a soft, fleecy blanket from the trunk, navy blue and warm and she moves only to help her wrap it around Helena's body.
There is no small talk in the car, her arms once more curled around her body, blanket tucked up and tight beneath her armpits like an overlarge bath towel. It's sunny, but it isn't anywhere she knows, or that she's heard of before. They cruise past the sign of the town, it reads: