Helena Wells-Quinzel is H.G. Wells (indelibleink) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2015-04-23 21:43:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !trigger warning, h g wells |
Who: Helena Wells
What: Being on-site so soon after a gruesome dream clearly is a good combination.
When: Thursday afternoon
Where: Undisclosed location where buried human remains were located
Warnings: Trigger Warnings for discussion of murder, murder of a child, torture and human remains
Status: Narrative: complete upon posting
At first, Helena had been relieved when she'd gotten the call that she needed to help excavate some human remains that were discovered. Field work was something she enjoyed doing, as much as one could enjoy uncovering the bodies of the dead, anyway. With work, she was hoping that she could forget about her dreams for a little while. And for the first few days, that had worked. Helena had been so intent on carefully excavating the remains that she had forgotten about her dreams, of her anxieties. She had, of course, ensured to call Svetlana each day so she could talk to Christina and at least tell her she loved her and that she'd be home soon. This was the part of her job that she didn't like, of how it took her away from Christina. However, she'd worked around it for the better part of a decade, and she knew Christina understood she had to go away sometimes. Still, it didn't quite sit right with her. And admittedly, she wouldn't like sending Christina to spend the summer in London either, but if these dreams were going to continue to torment her, she'd rather Christina be safe from whatever meltdown Helena may or may not have.
But first, she had to actually get through her job. And today, things were not going as well as they had the previous couple days.
Helena was working on exposing the last portion of the torso. The body was curled into the fetal position, or a semblance thereof. It was also still relatively fresh, having been buried within the last month or thereabouts, if Helena's guess was accurate. It was a man, lying on his side. Part of his back was still covered, so that was the area Helena was working on. Once that was done, the medical examiner could come in and begin to look for any sign of external trauma. And, well, there was no shortage of wounds on the man's body. It was easy to see given the man was unclothed. Even to Helena, who wasn't an expert on wound patterns, could tell there were several different wound patterns. While some could be chalked up to how the body began to decompose after death, not all of them could be. And as she carefully uncovered some more of his skin, she jumped slightly, her hand jerking back in shock of what she suddenly saw.
There was a jagged cut that began on the man's side and curved around to his back. It had been crudely stitched together, and Helena had a guess that the wound was suffered not long before the man's death. That paired with the fact the man's wrists and ankles were bound together said it all to Helena. This man hadn't simply been murdered, he'd been tortured. And that brought back the memory of the last dream she'd had of her Victorian era self. Of having watched how she sought her vengeance upon the men who killed her daughter, and she didn't spare them a single shred of mercy. The body before her bore very different wounds from the men in her dreams, but it was still evident someone had hated this man more than anything.
Helena took in a slow breath, trying to keep thoughts of her dream at bay for the moment. She had work to finish. But with each stroke of her brush, she only revealed more wounds, more pain that the man had obviously suffered. It was later in the afternoon when Helena had uncovered enough of the man that the medical examiner could finally do an initial exam and for crime scene photos of the body itself to be taken. During that point, Helena excused herself from the scene, needing some air. Removing the mask and gloves she'd worn and disposing of them, she moved away from the scene and found a place to sit down. She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead.
While she was desensitized to the various ways a person could be killed, this body just so happened to hit on that dream she didn't want to remember. Helena felt the more she focused on it, the more she could feel that level of coldness and depravation within her. She could feel it seeping into her, and she didn't want it. Helena was, by nature, a loving person, she had a very large heart, which was why she was able to do the job of a forensic archaeologist. She had enough empathy to treat the dead with respect, but enough of an iron stomach and iron will to actually spend hours hovering over human remains, unearthing them piece by piece. It was by no means an easy job nor was it a job for the faint of heart. Luckily, Helena had plenty of fortitude about her, though currently as she sat on the ground and tried to re-balance herself, that fortitude was wavering due to images of her dream mixing with the real-life body she'd been uncovering.
In the dream, she'd tracked those men down one by one. Vengeance was the only thing on dream Helena's mind. She'd wanted nothing more than to show those men what true pain was. Of course, it was also Helena's twisted expression of her own inner pain and grief that was too potent for her to embrace. So she turned it outwards in hate and anger. One by one she'd captured the men and slowly tortured them through various means. Sharp implements, blunt implements, as well as more creative means were used. Sulfuric acid, nitric acid, a fire poker and red hot coals. Dream Helena had a very dangerous, very lethal mind when she was pushed to it, and she spared none of it in exacting her vengeance. What she'd done to those men was the most pain a person could go through.
Helena buried her face in her hand. She felt as though she was losing herself again. The coldness and depravation felt as though they were creeping their way up into her conscious being. She couldn't let that happen, she couldn't let the monster that her dream self could be take control of her waking life. Helena had a daughter, friends, a lover, she couldn't lose herself, couldn't let them watch her change into someone who deserved to be behind bars for the rest of her life. She was supposed to help catch the bad guys, not become one of them. It was, indeed, a difficult struggle that left her feeling like she really was losing her mind just like her dream self. She didn't want to lose it, so she would have to find a way to deal with it. But when it was dreams that were causing all of this, it was a bit harder to take and deal with. Especially when Helena handled things in the same way her dream self did, which was to bury them within herself and leave them there, hoping they would never see the light of day again. That, however, was hardly the way the world worked. Things always came out, and Helena was fighting a war with herself. Or, to be specific, a war between two versions of herself.
Which one would win? Right now it was difficult to tell, but Helena knew if she didn't somehow find a way to handle everything, then the darker version of herself, the one in her dreams whom had lost her mind to grief, anger and hate, would win out. And then she'd lose everything she had. And she didn't want that to happen.
So she sat there for a while, just trying to get a handle on things. Finally, she got up and went back to the scene. The body was almost fully unearthed. After speaking with a few others there, the body would be ready for transport to the medical examiner's lab by morning. Potentially earlier depending upon how long it took Helena to finish the excavation and ensure the under side of the body wasn't attached to anything or hiding any further secrets. With the crime scene photographer, medical examiner and lead detective bent over the body, Helena took the opportunity to put in her daily call to Svetlana and Christina.
Somehow, she would find a way through this. Helena always did, one way or another.