Room For One More Troubled Soul

[Petra Davis-Shelley]

Petra reckoned it must have been what, two days since she tried to kill herself. She had spent most of it drifting in and out of fitful sleep, struggling to eat and throwing it up again. Lynette had hardly left her side, and she felt a little more safe when the ginger haired woman was around.

She had been drifting in the horrid place between sleep, her nightmare real and vivid in her eye. She was panting, tears mingling with her sweat as she moans and clenched her fists, whimpering in terror and her head twitched to the side. Soon words began to form from her lips, quiet and almost impossible to understand. "N-no. Max. P-p-please dont hit me. D-dont."

Erika Conner (Bellefonte)

[Erika Conner (Bellefonte)]

Petra; Erika had heard about the girl. In fact, she'd met her years earlier. She was one of those kinds of student who, after leaving the school, had ended up in somewhat of a dark place. She had read over the girl's file and after many discussions, Erika had decided that she would handle the case herself, instead of appointing one of the school counselors. Petra probably had enough of those as it was.

One knock, a pause and then Erika opened the door. She stepped inside, her hazel eyes immediately landing upon the figure in the bed. "Petra?" she asked softly as she stepped closer yet, her eyes never leaving the girl; She looked absolutely terrible and it felt as someone was clenching the brunette's heart.

[Petra Davis-Shelley]

She didnt hear the knock, or the door open. The noises in her head drowned out the outside world, growing louder and louder. Like shrill bells mingled with shrieking voices. It filled her head, searing the back of her eyes until the raucus was ended by one word.

"Petra?" There is silence, and the girls eyes shot open. She was panting, wide eyes landing briefly on the headmistress. Her gaze pulled away, her shaky hand running over her face. Ms Conner. Her words were quiet, muttered through pale lips.

[Erika Conner (Bellefonte)]

Erika walked over to the bed and dragged a chair towards it before taking a seat. For a moment, she remained silent; she simply watched the clearly distraught woman in the bed. It was obvious that Erika was worried about her as her eyebrows were tightly knit together.

"How are you doing?" she asked, as if she didn't know the obvious response to her question. Petra clearly wasn't doing fine and seriously needed some guidance and a way out of her current lifestyle. That much was obvious, even to someone without the appropriate training in the field.

[Petra Davis-Shelley]

The girl watched her teacher out the coner of her eye, sweat slicked hands shaking as her head twicthed awkwardly to the side every few seconds. She shuffled away from Erika as she drew the chair beside her bed, carefully rolling over so her back was to the headmistress.

Im fine. She muttered, pulling the blanket close to her chin and covering her ears with her hands. Why did they never leave her alone? The nurses, the doctors. She felt so crowded and scared in this place.

[Erika Conner (Bellefonte)]

"You're not fine," Erika responded in turn with a sigh. She looked at the girl, studying her. It was obvious that she wasn't fine. Nothing about this was fine. It made Erika sad that Petra couldn't admit that out loud. Though, she supposed, she couldn't really blame her either. It was a pretty terrible thing to admit, not only to yourself, but to everyone around her.

"I remember when I was younger, about four, five years ago? SPECTRE came to Kalispell and I was one of the kids that were kidnapped." She looked towards the window as she spoke, her voice steady. "I was tortured and mistreated, and when I finally came back home, I tried convincing everyone, myself included that I was fine. I wasn't." She hoped that would, at least, somehow reach the girl.

[Petra Davis-Shelley]

Im fine. She almost hissed more sternly, pressing her hands tighter to her ears and breathing heavily. Im fine and I dont need help so just go away. The words are spat almost nervously from her lips.

The story made the young girl trn over to face the women. Oh poor you. Wicked tones roll from her tongue almost wth ease. How long were you gone? What... a month maybe? Ive lived with this my entire life. I dont know anyone who has loved me. I never got adopted, never stayed in one foster home for more then 2 weeks. My own husband broke my fucking wrist. She took a breath, eyes focused on the women.

When I came home after... after my baby, he threw a fucking pan at my head. When i woke up I was in bed, naked, and he was next to me and he was gripping me really tight. I wwas covered in blood where he had... where he had- It all suddenly came out, large tears falling from her eyes.

[Erika Conner (Bellefonte)]

Erika remained perfectly silent, showing the girl her full attention as she spoke; She clearly wasn't fine, but Erika didn't see the need to point that out anymore. It was a good thing that the girl had decided to open up, even if it was meant as an insult and weighing their encounters up against each other. "A little over a month, yes," she said, looking towards the window. "No one even noticed I was gone," she added with a sad smile. Her twin sister had thought she'd run away and pretended to be her. She lifted her hand, showing the scars still apparent around her fingertips. "He pulled off my nails and burned the wounds with a lighter," she continued. "Then he continued to choke me with a belt." She turned to look at the girl. "And shot my now husband in front of my eyes."

"I'm not trying to compare my story to yours, but remember that just because you have it terrible, it doesn't mean anyone else's story or life is any less important. We all have our limits of how much cruelty we can take."

"I've arranged for you to come home with me when the doctors check you out," she added, offering the girl a small smile. Then, she held up her hand, as if to stop the girl from protesting. "It's not ideal, I get that, but it'll at the very best be a safe environment and it'll be a lot better than spending your days here or at the psych ward," she offered lightly. "Your husband can't find you there. I promise."

[Petra Davis-Shelley]

Oh, havent you had it rough. One month of shit? 20 years. 20 years of nothing but hell. Her final sentance was quiet, almost mournful. No one noticed me either. It took this; She held up her wrists, talking in a quiet, nervous voice. For people to realise... realise how much I need help. She rubbed her eyes, gaze trailing towards the womans nails, or lack of.

She doesnt speak, silence fallin on her like a blanket. She chewed her lip nervously, her head twitching gently. She listened to the rest of the story, sniffing before her eyes became angry. Dont fucking lecture me, you ricch ass whore. She spat teh words liek venom, hisses of bitter anger rolling of her tongue.

The news that she was to live with the headmistress stunned her back into silence. She looked hard at the woman, gaze unwavering for a few moments before pullng away. It wasnt until the mention of a psych ward that she became more herself. She sprung out of the bed - though she seemed to struggle staying on her feet - and launched herself at Erika, wrapping her hands tightly around her throat. She leane don her, unable to hold her balance. She felt the familiar burn of her power tingling though her body, searing her mind as the same, scream voice yelled at her. KILL HER PETRA! She almost wanted to give into the voice which was often louder then her own thoughts.

She didnt though, and after a few moments she felt her power dull (though not turn off). She took several deep breaths, thhough did not move. After a few moments, she whispered in a shaky voice.I may be depressed, and have PTSD, and hear fucking voices, but I am not fucking crazy. She pushed herself back, letting herself sit back on her bed. I may be an alcoholic, and a drug addict, but Im not crazy. I wont be put in the crazy ward, or one of those asylums. Im not crazy.