My Lost fanfic--Ben is creeping my character out!!

This is my character and Ben eeek!

ohhhhh I will read it. I dunno if anyone read mine, but on sheezyart.com I got the front page with this one. ;D

Yeah, Anime Ben was a bitch

Chapter 2

A shove of something soft in her mouth made her spit.
A growl rumbled by her side. “Dammit! We may have to put her back on IV.”
“No,” replied a slick, serpentine voice. “She is well enough.”

A heavy pressure split her skull at the seams. The radiance of the white walls made puddle out of her eyes; dripping, putrid—pathetic. They dribbled down her scant breasts and she wondered if they would ever clot. What a sight she must have been. She smirked, mocking her own existence—what a sight indeed! Festering in her sweat and tears….why not blood as well!? After all she had been through, all the pain and sorrow!

No blood. They never hurt her. Ben wouldn’t let them. They were not like the rest. She supposed Ben was not like the rest either.

Ben…

He was there, observing her, scrutinizing her feeble attempt to regain a perception of the surroundings. He saw her retreat in the corner a broken mongrel. She could feel his eyes studying the back of her neck, but he did not move, did not come to her as in once before. She was no better than a microbe in a slop of water….yes…he was a scientist in all aspects, with those dissecting eyes.

Time must have slipped by undetected, a shadow to the senses. Yes, she knew her mind had failed her and lost its footing in the world, and time had not been kind enough to wait for its return. Since her eyes were pained by the burst of light, she guessed her mind had been lost for a very long time. Yet, it hadn’t felt so—images moved in slow motion, her breaths took a lifetime to heave. Muscles ached, raw and stiff from a frozen sedentary position. Tongue and throat cried for water, sweet, precious water to soothe their burns. A red and throbbing pain bulged at the base of her skull at the meeting of her neck. It hurt to turn her head.

Ben shifted and the light dimmed a bit—was it out of courtesy? She could not imagine he could feel sympathy, not after what had happened. Henry would have shown gentle manners….and he was Henry—once, but Henry was gone. She worked her lips and a shutter of soft feet answered with a heavenly moistening to her parted mouth; lovely water; a medicine in its own right. She smiled, sliding her rejuvenated tongue and moaning.

“Eden…”

She jumped at the sound. That was her name, yes. She had forgotten.
“Eden.”
This time she looked at him and his face began to filter through the dissolving bubbles at the corners of her vision. He waited, then tilted his head. A hand rose to her cheek, but her nerves were hard-packed with gun powder and she jolted back from the alien touch.
“Calm down, Eden. You are safe.”

Safe…?

….A sob and then a caress…

….Despair for her wrecked throat….

Her lips shivered, mimicking hushed words. Ben settled to her side.
“You have taken fever, Eden, but it broke some time ago. You should be feeling much better in a day or two. Eden? Do you understand?”

She nodded, cringing. He draped a warm linen sheet over her stomach and tucked it in the wedges of her arm pits. She realized then she was on a bed under layers and layers of fat blankets. It was no wonder she was parched. She heard Ben making to leave, so she grunted a weak “uh” and lifted a hand. He gave her more water and set the glass on a flanking knee stool. Then the lights went out.

She woke up with her neck on fire, ears pink with the last traces of fever. She was more mobile now, joints loosed by sweaty sleep. She reached for the glass of water and wrinkled her face to its luke-warmth. Yet she was grateful that it still soothed her swollen throat, and she coughed to clear it of flem. She looked around but could not see much, as the room was still so very dark. A few moments later a chafing shhhhiiiiink parted the darkness to the light which made her eyes tear. She quickly covered herself with a snatch of blanket. Some one else was in the room, and it was not Ben. She peaked out from beyond the safety of the blanket’s hem to see a tall blond woman pulling forth a knee stool.

The woman knelt beside her, smiling coldly as if she was trying to fake kindness. Eden could see that she was not a very good actress. This woman was so bitter. Her dim gray eyes were windows into her dried soul. Eden pulled the blanket over her nose a bit more.
“Hello, Eden,” Said the woman steadily. “My name is Juliet, how are you feeling today?”
Eden did not like how the woman never moved her body, not even a twitch, not even her head—only her thin lips. The woman did not wait for a response, her voice indicating how she knew she would not receive one.
“Eden, I want you to try and remember the last thing you can remember. Can you do this for me?”

Eden stared out, her eyes and forehead being the only parts of her body exposed to the dim-eyed woman. She wished she could hide even those. The woman smiled wider, making Eden shutter up the spine.
“Eden, do you know where you are?”

No. She had no idea. Wait. Maybe….

She finally shifted, most likely out of impatience. Her voice stiffened. “Eden, you are here at Ben’s call, nothing more. You were brought here because he thought it would be in your best interest. Upon coming here you took fever, it happened when walking through the jungle so we guessed malaria. Chloroquine took care of that. You’re lucky the strain of disease here is not drug-resistant.”

The woman waited then shrank back a tad, observing. She smiled again and tugged the blanket down to Eden’s chin, very gently, revealing a glistening wet young face. “That is better,” She said with a bit of warmth. Though, Eden wasn’t so sure if it was genuine.

Eden kept staring with enormous golden brown eyes, watching the woman, unsure if she could be trusted. Her voice still made gooseflesh of her arms. The woman put a crooked finger to her mouth, still waiting for Eden to move or speak, but Eden was far too afraid to make any noises. She was a child -- laying like a stone, head covered by a blanket-- to remain hidden from the monster under the bed. Besides, the dark world she had been plunged into was still too alien and nightmarish to trust. The woman saw the growing fear upon Eden’s face and made a very sympathetic look, cocking her head to the side as one would do upon finding a frightened kitten cowering behind a couch.
“Eden, you don’t have to be afraid. Ben won’t let them hurt you. They wouldn’t anyway, even without him. I won’t hurt you.”

Eden felt her mouth turn dry. Her lips throbbed. The woman noticed and her eyes jerked up. “Oh, do you have something to say, Eden? You can say it, don’t be afraid.”

Every fiber of her being wanted to sink into a dark womb of blankets and sleep forever so not to see other people looking at her. She hated when examining eyes violated her so thoroughly. Her mother would do that, so many people did that to her—look and gawk and wait and watch. The only escape would be to swaddle herself up like a pearl inside a clam and stick deep into the ocean mud. There she could finally be at peace, away from those staring eyes.
When she was young the stares began, then they escalated into secret gossip, then rumors, then out right laughs and cruel names….She jerked her jaw and crunched her eyelids together, not wanting to bring up painful memories that were dead and lost in the past. She wanted to be stronger than that, as she had once been so wrapped up in her distress that she forgotten how to live….

Now she was in that room, with that dim-eyed woman, and not beneath that shanty tin roof on Livingston Street. The room was cold, not like the heat of the city. She struggled to remember, to ask why she was there…why was she there?

She opened her mouth but only a soft sigh came out. The woman drew closer to hear. Since Eden could not use her voice, she wheezed out and made hissing words with her breath and lips alone. “Henry?” She panted.
The woman thought for a moment. “Oh, you mean Ben? He is here. Would you like to speak with him?”
Eden shook her head. She was still afraid and angry with him. “Where…..where?”
“Eden, you are safe with us.”
“Us?”
“Don’t you remember anything?”
Eden shook her head again.
“You were brought here three days ago, from the docks. You don’t remember the boat do you?”

Eden wrenched her face and started to breathe erratically, snagging clumps of blanket to her breast. The boat? The boat? Yes, she remembered a boat—it had rust all along the sides, on the benches; she knew this because it stained her jeans and she remembered picking through the gritty bits like fleas. It was a small boat….Ben was at the fore point, staring out at the endless ocean as if soul searching. She remembered studying his erect neck, the sloping shoulders--small compared to a normal male body. She noted how his eyes were so wet and taken back by the horizon’s eternity. This was a trait he did not share with humans, only to her once….once when he went by the name Henry Gale….Henry Gale…he had lied to her about his name…she wondered why. She only found out on the docks, after she had poured her heart and soul to him, when it was revealed that he had lied and flowered a manipulative scheme-- and she was the toy.

Eden turned to look at Juliet directly. “He lied…we all fell for it…and now we are prisoners…”
“No, Eden,” the woman said tonelessly. “you are not a prisoner. We are not the kind of people to do that,”
“People?”
“Uh-huh. We are very peaceful if you’d give us a chance. I wouldn’t listen to Jack or the others. Their minds are too closed off to allow us to help them.”
Eden wanted to laugh, but she was still too weak.
”Help?”

The woman opened her mouth to speak when the door behind them ruptured and a small man ran in. “Juliet! I need you!”
Eden startled at Ben’s rush. She recognized the fog-colored eyes that were now wild with concerned apprehension. He didn’t even look at her when he ripped the blond woman up and out the door, leaving her to peer out, shivering and pressed into a wounded animal again. He once spoke to her about Franz Kafka, papayas, Hemmingway, cartoons, cereal, music, and the grind beneath fingernails that one could never be rid of no matter how deep you picked. He wouldn’t look at her, wouldn’t give her that light little brush of affection as he once did.

Her eyes floated to the ceiling as she realized if she could remember that, then she could remember the events that led her to such a crazed world of secrets and conspiracy. She so needed to make sense of this Alice in Wonderland spill of existence, and slowly, her mind reeled backwards, back to the airport….

rednymph234-I love your story! You write with such description, it is amazing. I can't wait to find out what happened at the airport!

;D