They can't hurt you if you're already broken [ 2/? ]
I feel nothing.
The darkness was suffocating, surrounding, clinging to every inch of her, smothering. Juliet had made this a habit, floating weightlessly under the surface in the depths of unlit waters, eyes never opening, legs never kicking and arms never stirring in an attempt to keep afloat. She just…sank.
Water encased her naked form as she wrapped her arms tightly around herself, chin down, eyes pressed shut, hair suspended, drifting, gliding as though it were dancing the water, like silk in a liquid void coiling and sliding effortlessly through nothingness. The sight was breathtakingly eerie, her ghostly figure frozen, unmoving, elegant yet haunting, the murky depths casting a ghostly green hue on her flesh.
She never knew really knew just how long she remained submerged in the leaden waters depriving herself of oxygen. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew what extremes the human body could tolerate, just how long a person was capable to survive without oxygen but time seemed immeasurable in her liquid tomb. Seconds crept by like hours. Eternity.
Time ceased to matter, her remaining consciousness focused on her senses, forcing her mind to shut down, driving herself to ignore the pain and misery, the torment crushing her heart.
She could only feel.
The fluidity of the water pressing against her as it hugged her every curve; coalescing, surging, giving rise to the contradictory feeling of being gently cradled by the subtle ebb and flow yet suggesting a brutal sense of asphyxiation with the oppressive weight on her lungs and chest.
She could only see.
Blackness. Violent darkness as she locks her eyes shut, her lungs ache for air but she pushes herself, punishes herself and holds on a little longer, forces herself a little farther, just a little longer… until she sees stars, glaring points of light behind her eyelids.
She could only hear.
An empty echo resonating in her ears, white noise, the subtle bump and mumble of the rolling tides. It reminds her of being a child playing in the bathtub with her sister, having an avid fascination with hearing the odd distortion of sound, giggles spilling from their lungs bubbling to the surface. She throws a yellow plastic duck “Julie you sound weird!”-
No…
She winces, curling tighter into herself feeling as if she had taken a punch to the stomach, clenching her jaw so tight her teeth might crack as she digs her nails into cold skin.
Just make it stop…
Maybe it would be better if she didn’t remember at all. They were good memories, happy memories, precious and valuable, in her previous life they would have served her well, warmed her heart, made her smile just like any childhood memory should. But not now. All they were now were a constant reminder of what she had once and then lost. She was never to get them back, never to have a ‘home’ or return to her family, she was done fooling herself, maybe next month, maybe next year, definitely soon…
Who was she kidding?
She had given up a long time ago, beaten into submission and forced to build walls in order to protect what remained of her shattered heart.
The trembling began, the pulsing agony intensified in her veins, her heart hammering so violently it might burst. Lungs burning, throbbing, crying out for air, clutching tighter, digging deeper, curling into herself tighter, resisting the natural inclination to kick her way to the surface. A tiny burst of bubbles seeps out of the corners of her mouth, a whimper lost in the infinite depths. Maybe if she holds out a little longer, just a little longer, it will all end.
But it always happens like this.
And she hates herself for it…
For not being able to follow through, not being able to endure feeling the water filling her lungs, pouring into her until she ceased to be. Not being able to feel her heart stop, or the paralysis that would inch it’s way into her limbs. What it would feel like to exist no longer. Maybe then, maybe she would finally be free.
But no. Instead, the fear sets in as she chokes on a gulp of water, panic triggering the compulsion to kick as hard an fast as she can until she breaks through the heavy barrier of the liquid catacomb, gasping for air. It was like two different planes of reality: the vibrant sights and sounds of the above world flooding her senses, sun blinding her sensitive eyes that were once submerged in darkness so completely devoid of life. She sputters, coughing up the deadly liquid that she had once so welcomingly invited to drown her, gulping down precious air as a flurry of bubbles emerge in the wake of her frantically moving arms.
You never could, could you?
She despises herself for it, feels pathetic and hopeless, deplorable, sick with herself at how many times she’s been here, how many times she’s wanted to give up and let go, and how many times she’s lost the courage to take that final step. What a vicious cycle.
Her breathing slows as her lungs learn to function again, the sharp ache fading to a dull thrum, arms moving slowly, fluidly through the water as her body pivots until she is floating on her back looking up to the sky.
She feels empty.
Azure eyes focus on the sight above; the intricate melding of trees as branches fuse to one another, merging, uniting in a tangled mess of life. Through this massive webbing she catches glimpses, fragments of powder blue sky so easily hidden by the immense overgrowth. She floats, catatonic, numb, concentrating on the bits of sky struggling to break through the verdure to reach down to her and somewhere in the back of her mind is reminded of herself; such a small insignificant pawn struggling to break out from under a heavy unmoving force. There was no winning no matter how hard she tried.
So she goes along with it.
Wear the mask. Pretend. Obey and maybe somewhere along the road you’ll get lucky enough to be put out of your misery or find something or someone on this island worth living and trying for.
Yeah right. What are the chances of that.
As cliché as it seemed, she had long since forgotten, long since given up on love or maintaining any sort of healthy relationship, friendship or likewise. Why bother trying? Anyone she had ever loved either ended up dead or a world’s distance away.
Untouchable.
She missed it and she couldn’t deny that, feeling isolated, deprived. Craving human contact, the awkward energy in your veins and lightness in your heart, many had tried to warm up to her, attempted to get close, but when those walls are up they don’t easily come down.
So she pushed them away, pushed everyone away, telling herself she would only cause them pain when deep down she really knew it was because she couldn’t bear any more heartache. She had reached her limit. Still, there were some capable of disarming her, offering the slimmest glimmer of hope; Jack had certainly made an attempt at earning her affections, and although it was sweet she couldn’t help feel he was slightly misguided, that he had to prove something to himself or to her dismay, maybe even pitied her.
But he just wasn’t…it.
The strongest emotional connection she had felt in ages bloomed from her perilous romp through the jungle shackled to Kate Austen. She had read her file, read that she had led a life of constantly running, a life consisting of lying, conning, stealing, and cheating, of murder. She knew all the facts, the charges held against her and the consequences that came with each sentence, what would happen to her if she ever returned to the functioning world. What she didn’t know and was painfully curious to find out was why she had done what she’d done. What had driven the woman to commit murder, to burn a man alive in his own home?
It drove her crazy.
She took every opportunity to study Kate, to read her and try to tap into what made her tick, examining her any time the chance arose: whether it was the way her eyes fixated on her blurry image, glued to the surveillance monitors of her cage, or opting for the duty to stand guard over her as she begrudgingly broke rocks. Juliet had always prided herself in her ability to read people, to establish their drive and motives just by pure unadulterated observation.
But she just couldn’t unlock Kate.
It was frustrating to say the least. She was wracking her brain over it, tried every way and any way possible to capture just a peek inside her concealed mind. But she failed.
Every.
Single.
Damn.
Time.
Dead ends materialized at every turn. Kate’s defenses were strong. Impenetrable.
Maybe she’s just as broken.
A once in a lifetime opportunity arose in Juliet’s choice to handcuff herself to the resilient brunette, giving her just the edge she needed. It deviated from Ben’s original plan, but Juliet was manipulative and Ben was putty in her hands, and eventually through good charm and tact she had him believing it was his idea all along. She wanted it. She needed it. In all aspects she’d become obsessed, any passing moment or any failed attempt at unlocking the puzzle that was Kate Austen chipped away at her coolheaded temper leaving her irrationally agitated and erratic.
Being with Kate was…pleasant in a sense. How she arrived at that feeling she wasn’t exactly sure, but being tethered to her was a disorienting experience. She didn’t know how to feel, how to think, the air around her cracked, surging with energy. It was exciting, her heart raced and adrenaline pumped but a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach overshadowed the momentary happiness she felt, a feeling that something very much out of her control was growing and there was nothing she or anyone could do to stop it.
Disorienting didn’t even begin to describe it.
As much as she fought and complained, put on an act that she couldn’t stand being around her, this was the most human contact she’d had with someone she didn’t abhor in months. And it was with Kate. This was her chance to pick at the shell safeguarding Kate’s soul, to gain a fragment of insight into what lay behind those fierce eyes, her hostility and lack of trust. But glimpses weren’t enough. She wanted it all.
However when it came time, when she finally had her opportunity, she failed. Miserably. All her mind could grasp was the flustered feeling clinging to her, felt coursing through her veins any time they came into contact [which wasn’t difficult considering their current ties]. A brush of skin, an awkward bump of shoulders, even when they weren’t actually touching did she feel electricity buzzing between them, as if she got too close she might burn.
Juliet lied.
She lied to herself, lied when she told herself she was doing this to go along with Ben’s plan, lied when she pretended to be unconscious as Kate hesitantly felt for the knife in her pocket, fingertips leaving a sensation so sharp and piercing it threatened to burn right through to her skin. Lied when she told herself the pain wasn’t worth it and pretended to loathe Kate for dislocating her shoulder, that she didn’t hopelessly savor the opportunity to curl up in pain against the younger woman’s shoulder. Bodily harm was a small price to pay.
It was then that she saw it, after the loud -pop- of her injured shoulder being snapped back into place, she really saw Kate: terrified eyes laced with worry over what she had just done to Juliet. Torment. Regret. Her hand reached out hesitantly towards the woman doubled over in pain, fear that she might inflict more damage from the slightest touch consumed her as fingers landed faintly on her trembling shoulder.
Juliet looked up, stunned. It was just an instant, a brief moment that her guard was down; hurt, distrust, betrayal, wounds that ran deep to her soul’s core. There was a frightened child buried beneath her act, beneath the attitude and aggressiveness. Juliet saw it all.
Maybe Kate realized, saw the way Juliet stared at her and the way her jaw dropped in the slightest, saw the pity in her eyes and the tears threatening to break, the understanding and identifying. Because in an instant, it was gone. Armor back on in full, angry eyes fixated and cold. She pulled back, recoiling from Juliet as if she had touched something vile and contaminated.
It hurt. Juliet was stunned, the pain in her body long forgotten. She would never see that Kate again, never earn her trust or affections, she was certain she hated her and the realization hit her like a ton of bricks. The one person she felt a connection and might identify with was gone, locked away in her tormented mind.
What was it about this island that brought together the most broken souls?
She blinks, forcing memories of Kate from her mind, her eyes beginning to water as she floats motionless in the water, sight still fixed on those little patches of blue sky.
Maybe…
Her body turns, tilting into an upright position as she wades to the more shallow end of the lagoon where she perches herself on a rock, water lapping calmly at her waist, a slight breeze chilling her drenched skin.
Maybe it was best for everyone if she remained the hated. Maybe people would stop getting hurt and she would stop losing loved ones. She’d already lost enough, she just wanted to give up and go home…
That was all it took. A fraction of a second, the briefest of thoughts as she carelessly slips and lets her mind return to that place, and once again is plunged into that deep pit of despair and self-loathing. She caves, pathetically pulling her legs to her chest wrapping her arms tightly around her knees as sobs wracked her delicate body. Grief consumes her.
What have I done?
It wasn’t just the separation, the immeasurable distance keeping her from her home, wasn’t the pain she felt knowing she may never be able to hug her sister again let alone meet her own nephew. It wasn’t even the anguish from seeing patient after patient die before her very eyes.
It was the misery from knowing she volunteered to come here. That this was all her choice.
So Juliet cries.
She cries just like she always does when she comes to this place, her escape, her secret. Where she bares her soul to absolutely no one and is allowed to mourn, where she doesn’t have to put on the formidable or assertive front. No defenses. No walls or barriers. No repressing the emotions that ate away at her heart. Her body shudders, quaking with the sobs that erupt from her, brutal and uncontrollable. Never-ending.
-snap-
Juliet is jerked out of her mournful state by the loud sudden crack of a twig snapping in the distance behind her. Emotional distress almost claiming the best of her, threatening to betray her calm façade as her body jumps in the slightest, startled. She chides herself for her reaction, however small it may be, as she straightens herself into a sitting position, letting her arms drop gracefully to her sides.
She’s not alone.
And she knows exactly who it is.