- - -
�It�s been a while.�
I couldn�t speak. I couldn�t think. I don�t think I even realised he�d said anything. Until finally I realised he was repeatedly calling my name.
�Hey.�
�And we�re back�� His sobriety always astounded me. Actually�what the hell am I saying, he was never this sombre. Always panicking, stressed out, worried, whatever. Screaming. But now. Now he was sombre, calm. His eyes were piercing, it looked like he had a real purpose. And if that was to fuck my brains out I�d gladly take him up on that offer. He looked so good.
�It�s been a while,� I uttered, a chuckle threatening to spirit.
He nodded. I noticed he had gum. He never chewed gum. And�stubble.
�Angel couldn�t come, so I told him I�d fill in.�
I thought about what he said for a second. �You didn�t have to-�
�Believe me, I know that.�
Silence. Not like I didn�t deserve that comment.
�So�how are you?� I asked him, my voice playing the nervous game, where it manages above a whisper that almost immediately lets him know that I�m shaking inside.
He nodded and his mouth made a little edge. �I�m alright.� He sucked in a breath, the receiver pressed to his ear, clutched by his right hand, tight.
I couldn�t help but notice his lack of speech. I didn�t particularly expect for him to have anything to say but�if this was how I was spending my ten minutes�God, I�m such an ungrateful bitch.
�Wes, I, er�� I furrowed my eyebrows, thinking of a correct way to say what I was thinking I should perhaps say. ��I know an apology would probably do nothing,� I tried. I muttered so low I don�t think he heard me. Though when I looked up to check if he was looking at me, I noticed that intensity in his eyes piercing through me. God, that guy was starting to resemble the posterity of Angel. �I�m so sorry.�
I held my breath, ready to take any response I was given. Hell I�d be grateful for a facial expression. But none. Not for the first few moments. �When you came here I told myself I�d never see or associate myself with you again. If someone�if you should be associated with human�so vicious, so full of hate, so inhumane, so�screwed up could deliver such pain intentionally, out of sheer pleasure�then they should be lucky that they are still breathing, and that a monster more deadlier than themselves hasn�t tortured, maimed or eaten them�out of pleasure.�
�I was scared��
�I know, Faith. No one knew how much anger you had inside of you. I�m just glad that you burst sooner rather than later. Who knows what more damage you could�ve caused.�
His voice was so painfully monotonous the entire time he had been speaking to me. Emotionless, expressionless, he sat before me. Doing Angel this favour.
I didn�t realise I was crying until the teardrops fell to my resting hand upon the counter.
�I deserved that.� I swallowed and continued. �But I really appreciate you coming to see me. I never thought you�d ever wanna do this for me. Thank you.�
Silence. �I�m doing this for Angel.�
I only caught a glimpse of Wes�s expression before the guard told me I had to wrap it up, but when I looked back round, he had already put down the receiver and had begun to walk away.
- - -
I couldn�t remember the last time I cried this much. The tears just kept on flowing, on and on, until I was ran dry.
I had never felt this hated in�forever. Compared to how much my parents hated me, whatever. I knew Wesley probably wished me dead but I�d never�
The look in his eyes when I sat down to talk to him. His face�it was as if I was talking to and empty Wesley. Like, he�d drained himself of emotions. He was so�cold. To me. Ice cold.
I wouldn�t leave my cell again today, I didn�t care about dinner, I wasn�t hungry. All I could do was think of what the hell I�d done to him to make him react this way towards me. Everything I�d done I�d done out of pure evilness. I was evil. Wretched. Disgusting. I deserved everything I got and more.
A part of me was relieved he hadn�t said he hoped they were torturing me as bad as I had to him inside here. God, what the hell was I doing?
My mind flashed back to that night in the apartment. Wesley was tied to the chair. And me?
�All these little cuts and bruises - just bring out the mother in me.�
I took his face in my hand and slapped his cheek.
�Come on. Now, now, don't poop out on me, damn it! Otherwise this all just going to be over too fast, and you'll be dead and I'll be - bored. Come on, Wesley! Where is that stiff upper lip?�
I let him go and continued talking, every word just that little bit more painful than the other.
�Now, we've only done one of the five basic torture groups. We've done blunt- but that still leaves sharp, cold, hot and loud.�
It echoed through my mind, every single word. Every single word I said to him, and every single word he said to me. Including that I was a piece of shit. No surprises. It�s all true. I was a shit.
Wesley came running out of the house and I sobbed hopelessly into the only man that had ever tried to save me.
�Angel please, just do it. Just do it. Just kill me. Just kill me.�
He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pulled me against him, the rain drenching both of us through, the cold becoming physical as well as mental.
I remember sinking to my knees, the tears and the sobs such a mesh of overwhelming energy that I just couldn�t control it anymore.
I heard him begin to say to me, �Shh. It's all right. It's okay. I'm here. I'm right here. Shh.� I have no idea how long he repeated this mantra. Time had slipped from me.
I�d put Wesley through that painful ordeal because I was so screwed up, because I knew I would get a kick out of it. And they called me a Slayer. That�s right. I slay. A killer. But I�m supposed to be a Slayer, not a killer. Buffy could establish that line, why couldn�t I?
I was stupid. That was the only solution. I refused to learn and therefore I remained stupid. If this was the consequence of refusing to learn then goddamnit, I should�ve let Buffy fucking-well finish me off when she had the chance.
- - -
I thought I was going to throw up from the amount of times Chiara had been circling me. She�d been rambling on about how she�d noticed how depressed I�d gotten ever since, �the accident.� She suggested meditation, and gave me this book to look at. I felt like using it to knock her out (or perhaps the bump would make her voice less irritating).
She asked me how I was feeling and I told her the same as yesterday, the day before that, and the day before that, when she last asked me. She gave me this, �What ever are we going to do with you?� look and I detached myself from all expression, thus, remaining expressionless.
I gave in to the pain of this friggin� arm that I cried so much. Normally if I�d broken or dislocated something, give it a few days, maybe more, maybe less and I�d be right back on track. Super-Slayer-strength, thing. Perhaps the �Powers that Be� had paralysed that�making me feel every ounce of pain delivered to me.
I started doing physio, must�ve been three weeks after it broke. The doctors said it healed really fast, and I scoffed at that (see previous comment). This was the slowest-healing broken bone I�d EVER had. And it fucking well hurt. I told the doctors, hook me up with a punch-bag and a bottle of J-D and it�d heal even faster. He chuckled at me. Sighed. That was about it.
Seeing as that little request wasn�t successful, I decided to give that book a try. I read up on some of the meditation techniques and how exactly they helped to �alleviate� mental, physical and emotional distress.
So I was sittin� there, crossing my legs, resting my hands on my knees as it said I should in the book. Closed my eyes, listened to the sounds around me�luckily it was a couple of hours past lights out so sound levels were low. No disturbance. I listened to the thoughts in my mind and looked at the pictures my mind ran through me.
I guess now would be an appropriate time to mention I didn�t share a cell with anybody. I�d probably get the shit beaten out of me if anyone found out I was some sort of tai chi, meditating, new age�
I have no fucking idea what the hell just happened, but whatever it was managed to throw me half way across the cell onto the floor. Onto my BAD arm. Fuck�
I cried out in pain, clutched my arm. The fuck was that?
I looked behind me, just to check there was no supernatural force behind me or anywhere else in the room, accompanying me on my �meditating travels.�
Sat back on my bed. Got back to where I was (cross-legged, hands on knees�thinking, deep thinking). Then I felt something. Like�some sort of warm energy. In the centre of my stomach. I could feel it building up, like starting to grow inside of me, as if it was spreading. It felt�good�comforting. The non-threatening kind. And before I knew it I was across the floor again, this time fully conscious quickly enough to stop myself from falling on my arm. This was weird. What was this energy and where was it coming from? I looked over to the spot where I was sitting. I ran my fingers back through my hair. Stumped.