Romancing the Pain - Part 13
Title: Romancing the Pain
Rating: M (for adult themes)
Pairing: Pepa/Silvia
Summary: Post episode 104 as well as my last fic, Come Back to Me. It’s basically its sequel; the events that occur after Silvia was released from the hospital.
A/N: Special shout out to mmm_kekse for having Darkwing Duck as your icon! And for loving Gummi Bears and Captain Planet as well as a bunch of other old school cartoons. *grins* Kekse, you are my ideal Sunday morning cartoon watching buddy. *winks and hands you a fudge cube* To my other readers, hope you like this new update. Comments, insults and fish bones are all welcome. Enjoy!
ROMANCING THE PAIN - Part 13
Pepa sat in a dingy bar that was poorly lit. The greasy counter she was slumped against barely held her up as the taller woman’s face inched nearer and nearer to the countertop with each shot of whiskey she knocked back. Pepa dug an elbow into the rough surface, barely wincing as a sliver of wood wedged itself into her skin. She ignored it and placed further pressure on her elbow, trying to right herself. Finally managing to sit halfway up, she raised one bony finger in the bartender’s direction, signaling for a refill.
The bartender scowled but put down the glass he was “cleaning.” From the foggy smears on the sides of the glass and the dirt stains on the cloth, he sure wasn’t anywhere near achieving the goal of cleaning. He marched over to the lanky brunette and yanked up the whiskey bottle, pouring molten brown liquid into Pepa’s empty shot glass. Slamming the bottle back down behind the counter, he threw the brunette another scowl before disappearing into the back.
Pepa looked down blearily at the drink in front of her. The edges of the shot glass were fuzzy, almost as if someone was in the process of erasing the image. She frowned in abject concentration and reached down with an unsteady hand to wrap shaky fingers around her drink. Motor skills so flooded with alcohol resulted in Pepa sloshing half of the whiskey onto her fingers where they tickled her skin before slipping off to dribble onto the counter. The movement did not deter Pepa. She managed to bring the rest of the drink to pale lips, throwing back the liquid into her mouth. It raged along her taste buds, making them shudder in objection before sliding down to abuse a raw throat by burning an unforgiving path down its inner walls.
Pepa choked and spluttered like a dying engine as the strong drink raced down her esophagus only to ignite a fire in her belly. Normally the warmth would sooth her, smooth out frizzled nerves but this feeling was something akin to swallowing acid. It blistered her stomach walls, almost making Pepa retch in response. Nevertheless, Pepa pushed down the bile that crept up her throat and exhaled harshly through her nose.
Three weeks. It had been over three weeks since she ran away. She laughed harshly. Running away sounded so juvenile and yet that was exactly what Pepa did. It was something she was good at. The only thing she seemed consistent in. Pepa sighed in defeat and hefted her body weight against the edge of the counter, a sudden dizzy spell throwing her senses for a spin. She screwed her eyes shut and waited for it to pass.
Pepa wasn’t sure how long she stayed like that until a song from a dusty jukebox enveloped her in its familiarity. She jerked and wrenched open her eyes, almost going cross-eyed at the blurry vision her eyes had taken to giving her. She strained an ear in the direction of the jukebox, head cocked like an inquisitive dog. When the words to the song floated clearly over to the brunette, Pepa flinched violently, acting as if the notes were blades against her skin, slashing open the vulnerably soft tissue to reveal a red running river beneath.
When you're dialing six numbers just to hang up the phone
Driving across town just to see if she’s home
Waking a friend in the dead of night, just to hear ‘em say it’ll be alright
When you’re finding things to do not to fall asleep
Cuz you know she’ll be there in your dreams
That’s when she’s more than a memory
Pepa involuntarily closed her eyes as she was thrown back down memory lane, vividly remembering hearing this song after she and Silvia broke up.
*********
Pepa sat at the bar of the motel she checked into after returning to Silvia’s house only to find that the redhead had changed the locks two weeks ago. She sighed and looked down at her bourbon and coke, the liquid sloshing over the twin ice cubes clinking happily against the glass. Suppressing tears that threatened to fall, Pepa gripped hard at her drink and brought it to her lips, allowing the sweet if slightly tangy liquid to tumble onto her tongue and down her throat. She frowned as the words to a song drifted over to her hunched frame, caressing her ears.
When you're dialing six numbers just to hang up the phone
Driving across town just to see if she’s home
Pepa wanted to laugh at how the lyrics embodied her current state. Every night before Pepa fell into an alcohol-induced sleep, she would pick up the phone in her motel room, punch in a number so familiar she could recite it backwards and let the phone ring. She would wait for Silvia’s voicemail to pick up, allow the redhead’s voice to soothe shattered nerves before hanging up. It was the only way Pepa could fall asleep. As for driving across town, Pepa did that too, when alcohol was not an option. Plagued by insomnia, Pepa would wander to her car, start it and drive to Silvia’s house, silently watching for a light to flicker on in the kitchen, the living room, the bedroom. Sometimes she would be rewarded, sometimes not.
When you’re finding things to do not to fall asleep
Cuz you know she’ll be there in your dreams
Pepa flinched at that, not wanting to admit just how close to the truth the lyrics to song were. Even when she had managed to drink herself into a stupor and had passed out on the bed, her dreams consisted of nothing but Silvia. She had hated the redhead for invading even her innermost thoughts. However, she knew these dreams were the only thing keeping her from losing her sanity.
*************
Pepa was literally shaken out of her musings as the bartender gripped her shoulder in a painful vice. She viciously shook away the haze in her mind and glared at the man, silently demanding he get his hands off her.
The bartender obliged, backing away slightly at the threat emanating out of liquid brown eyes, smudged as they were from alcohol and lack of sleep. He had bartended long enough to have met and dealt with an array of characters and knew when to back off. The look in this woman’s eyes clearly stated that warning. He held up a hand in surrender, though his lips were still twisted in a scowl. “Do you want another?” He jutted his chin at her empty shot glass.
Pepa jerked her head, nodding an affirmative. She watched the bartender refill her glass before leaving her alone, making his way to the end of the bar to tend to another customer. A little more sober now from the encounter, Pepa downed her shot effortlessly, thinking of just what she had done in a past life to hear the same song that taunted her during her break up with Silvia.
You look like hell and you just don’t care
Drinking more than you ever drank
Sinking down lower than you ever sank
Pepa spared a disgusted glance at the bar she was in. Paint peeled off the walls, cobwebs decorated the rafters and the floor looked like it had never seen a broom. ‘Well it doesn’t get lower than this, Pepa,’ the brunette thought sarcastically to herself. Her blurry vision caught sight of her reflection in a mirror slightly to her right. She DID look like hell. Her eyes were red-rimmed all around, the bags under her eyes so dark, they looked like twin bruises. Her cheeks were sunken and her skin looked like it had not visited the sun in months. Her rail thin frame was now edging towards anorexic thin; Pepa forgot when was the last time she ate, not that she had the stomach for food.
When you find yourself falling down upon your knees,
Praying to God, begging him PLEASE!
That’s when she’s more than a memory
Pepa shuddered as another memory visited her, descending upon her tortured soul like a dark cloud.
*******
Pepa awoke in the backseat of her car, a scream so terrible and harsh ripping out of the back of her throat that the brunette swore it flayed off pieces of skin in her mouth. She bolted up, body encased in cold sweat, muscles straining and shaking. She shoved her hands into her hair, fingernails scraping painfully against her scalp as she attempted to wipe away the lingering wisps of her nightmare.
The same nightmare she had had since Silvia had been released from the hospital. The only difference now was that in her dream it was Pepa who held the gun. Pepa who pulled the trigger. Pepa who drove that bullet hole into Silvia’s unprotected body; puncturing porcelain skin, digging past muscles and tendons only to shred vital organs. Pepa who would watch in unadulterated horror as Silvia glanced down at her bullet wound in shock before collapsing onto the floor, blood pooling around her in ever increasing puddles of dark red.
Pepa wrenched open the car door and fell onto out onto the empty parking lot of the beach, skinning her hands against the gravel. Heavy torrents of rain pounded down on her exposed areas of skin, lashing Pepa relentlessly. Thunder growled in the distance and lightning flashed above her, cracking the sky in pieces, its white jagged claws, tearing at the clouds and dissecting them. Pepa pounded fists hard against the ground, tears rolling down her cheeks, her emotional turmoil so blatantly evident. She screamed into the darkness in a fruitless attempt to rid her mind of its nightmarish atrocities. Alone in that parking lot, Pepa screamed and cried, the thunder and the driving rain swallowing all the sounds of her anguish.
********
“I’m closing up.”
Pepa struggled to lift her head up to meet the bartender’s eyes, her own curtained with a blanket of salty tears.
The bartender gestured an impatient hand at the door. “Do you hear me? I’m closing up. Get out!”
Pepa snarled at him but stumbled off the barstool, almost falling onto her face, as her legs barely had the strength to sustain her weight. The brunette dug into her pocket and pulled out a few bills, slapping them down onto the counter, uncaring of how much or how little she had just given the disgruntled man. Picking up her jacket from the barstool next to her, Pepa staggered to the door, pouring herself out into the cold night air.
She shrugged on her jacket, arms getting tangled in the leather material. Cursing and muttering incomprehensibly, she tugged furiously at the clothing, imploring it to slide over her shoulders. So intent in her task, combined with too much alcohol impeding her senses, Pepa acted too late as somebody pounced on her from behind, slapping a chloroform-soaked cloth over her mouth and nose, rendering her into unconsciousness.
A/N 2: The song, More Than a Memory and its lyrics, belong to Garth Brooks. No copyright infringement intended. If anybody is interested in listening here’s the link to the song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=20vwVBGLqTs