*/ never a clean break

[bellasantanarovens]

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---IT WAS ASTOUNDING HOW

[/size] the past would follow you, stalk you. it was simply astounding. there was nowhere to run and hide without running into a ghost, or a memory, or a nightmare. no matter what they were waiting around every corner, one step ahead, just craving the color being drained from one's face, the trembling of forgotten fingers, the fights, the tears. if there was a god out there, he sure had a sick sense of humor. isabella rovens had been in valkyrie for what, maybe a month? and she'd already had enough of her past to last a life time, though she was sure there was more to come, probably worse situations, though a girl could dream for the best, couldn't she? not long after she'd been in los angeles, freshly imported from mexico, a lowly lacky had found her and shot her. the first person she met in valkyrie was allegra mancini, an old friend who she'd done business with on and off. and the, not long after that, she'd run into james collins, who'd given her a beating from hell and opened up the gunshot wound that allegra had so carefully stitched up. the bastard, didn't he know that she was more likely to have a scar now? somehow she managed to slide her way out of that sticky situation though, slipping through the cracks. that was how things usually went, she found herself face to face with trouble, and then darkness descended, and then she would find a way out and get help. that was how it typically went when she met people from her past, and conveniently, the bad things always seemed to happen in the creepiest of places; a dark alley, an abandoned ravaged house, the usual. for the time being, bella planned to stay pubic, at least when she was alone.

ever since her run in with collins, she hadn't much been fond of being alone. she slept in syl and joey's hotel most nights, sometimes switching things up to hang out with allie or maggie, but her apartment had been relatively empty the past week. she'd never admit it, but the whole encounter had her jumpy. she rarely even spent time alone now, usually kicking it at the hospital, or the lounge, but there definitely wouldn't be any more late night excursions for a while. the last time she showed up somewhere alone was the fish fry a couple days earlier, but she'd had intentions of meeting her girls there, and it wasn't long before they'd shown up, so that didn't really count. otherwise, the only solitary moments were the periods she spent traveling between safe places. it was better to be safe than sorry, after all, james collins was a wild card. she didn't know if he'd tell his superior's he'd seen her. for all she knew, mario was on his way to valkyrie right now with a bloodlust in his soul. the most intelligent move was to be around allies, or somewhere that somebody wasn't going to pull a gun out willy-nilly. if they did, well then they were either demented or just plain stupid.

today was a special occasion. everybody bella was acquainted with was busy with their own things, and she felt like such a pest that she figured she would just stick it out for the afternoon. after the beating she'd been delt, she really wasn't lacking the feeling of being the envy of the female population, and she'd been wanting to treat herself to a shopping trip for a while. there was some extra money she had saved up just for this occasion, and while doing something as mundane as shopping wasn't exactly her favorite pastime, the absolute normalcy sounded desirable after all the dramatic events that she'd been through in the past couple months. not to mention, sometimes a girl just had to give into her instincts. she wanted to feel hot again, and despite the black eye, bruises, healing scab on her eyebrow, still slightly swollen lip, and bandaged stomach, she had every intention of doing so. not to mention, what type of mobster was going to be hanging out in the valkyrie mall for no apparenty reason? personally, that wasn't a place she'd go looking for herself, assuming she was every a third person sentient, so why would anybody else. they wouldn't, it was that simple.

the girl had showered, and applied her make-up carefully, not even bothering to try and cover up her eye since it never worked, though she did managed to conceal a few of the other bruises on her body. she ruffled her hair, allowed the natural waves to take their hold, and then slipped into her casual, less-girly clothing. it looked like there was some wind, so it was a good excuse to wear a sweatshirt in california. it didn't take her long, and since she lived in a down-town sort of area, arriving at the mall really hadn't been a terrible feat to accomplish either. it was surprisingly full, so apparently these natives were finally getting over their devastating earthquake and resuming life the way it was before it all happened and the world came crashing down on top of them; figuratively and literally. the more people, the better. it meant more witnesses. a part of her was absolutely disgusted with the secret fear she'd taken ahold of. she was determined to throw caution to the wind, fuck it all, and resume the bad ass lifestyle she'd had, but maybe she should stay out of trouble at least until her wounds healed. the hole in her abdomen had already been stitched up by her corrupt little doctor quite a few times now, three to be exact, one was the original wound, next was courtesy of mr. collins and his violent ambitions, and third was actually bella's fault because she'd decided to take part in the surf competition without a wetsuit. allegra had been fed up and intricately designed her initials into the girls wound with stitches. normally it would have bothered her, but at this point it didn't seem likely to not scar, so might as well have a funny one.

the first few stores she hit were typical, getting a few pairs of jeans, a shirt or two, a pair of boots. she was holding several bags when she'd come across a store that screamed "calling all hipsters" in bold impact red letters. bella was drawn to it like a moth to a light, and she found herself enjoying quite a few of the articles of clothing there. they had everything from hats to shirt to belts to shoes. there were hand made bags weaved with colorful threads that read "made in nepal" that she'd taken quite a liking to. she rmmaged through a few of them, finally deciding on an aqua blue with gray leaves and white peace signs stitched into it. that was only the first victim that had appealed to her tastes though, there was plenty more to be bought in the quirky little store, and it was extra nice that wasn't extremely crowded, probably because it was a little off from mainstream fashion, but that was part of the appeal. as she was slowly sifting through the shirts, a glimpse of blonde hair appeared in her peripheral vision, and the owner of it was an all too familiar face.

ksenia sakahrov.

isabella hadn't seen her in years, since she'd left her old alliance with the brazilians far behind, actually. ksenia had been bella's first friend since her transformation from fiesty british babe to dangerous devilish damsel. they'd both been fairly new to the industry, and they were both young, and it was only natural that they should get along. they had clicked instantly, and bella thought they probably would have been friends in another life when they were both normal, anyway. it was good too, she remembered laughing with ksenia, making fun of jamie with her, staying up late and talking, going on less important little assignments, being silly when it was permitted, the happier memories. and then stefano died, and bella left the brazilian mafia because well, she couldn't stand the toolbag who was stefano's pupil, and son. bella never said goodbye to ksenia, never even contacted her again. she coudn't be sure how ksenia would have reacted to the betrayal, it was too risky, and she'd chosen to play it safe.

the independent black market vendor felt like a complete idiot for not realizing that is jamie was in valkyrie, of course ksenia was too. how stupid of her for it to not click until now. she swiftly dove behind one of those round metal projections that clothes hung off of, desperately hoping that this stre wouldn't be the blonde's style and she'd just walk out. god, she felt like a ten year old hiding in the clothes from her mother, but desperate times called for desparate measures. the young man at the register across the store was eyeing her with a surprised, condescending, and "you're weird" look on his face. bella put her index finger to her lips, wincing when she heard footsteps coming in her direction.
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status•finished.
tagged• b/k!
comments• yay!
attire• click.
credits• format inspired by vsiders. banner goes to lainey.

[ksenia]

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JANUARY, 2012. MID-AFTERNOON. VALKYRIE MALL.

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,IT WAS BECOMING increasingly difficult to differentiate "normal" from "abnormal". and that was what she hated. eighteen months, a year, hell even six months, ago, ksenia sakahrov had been able to tell the difference. normal is doing stupid, boring teenager stuff. go to the movies, hang out at the park, get drunk in someone's basement. abnormal is spending late nights cutting off fingers, loading weapons, threatening people and their families. that's what it used to be. now, a day wasn't routine unless at least one person was sobbing, begging for something. if things were that chaotic, that far gone, what was normal? what was abnormal? was, for her and someone in her life, abnormal going to the movies and getting drunk in someone's basement? people who cut off fingers and threaten families don't do that. that's what she had always thought. her entire childhood, noting the shadowy criminals in her father's presence, had been spent visualizing these people. they did not live average lives. their very existence was to break the law, gain more power. they did not have families, hobbies, trivial joys. they fell well past the "abnormal" line, and that was all they were. that is what nine year-old ksenia thought. twenty year-old ksenia, who was now one of those shadowy criminals, doubted that. she doubted a lot of things. if she was supposed to live this abnormal life, why did she spend so much time doing so-called normal things? everyone she knew had families, hobbies and trivial joys. the abnormal stuff? they did that on the side? so, why couldn't she keep it like that too?

she didn't know how some did it. the very people her entire family worked for, worked with, seemed to life perfectly average lives. and they just so happened to run a drug cartel, or human trafficking, or whatever else. that came second to their love of pasta, baseball and going for walks in the woods. the moment she had flown to moscow and was trained in all of this, she was determined to do the same. and for awhile, it worked. she struggled, but she managed to continue her stupid boring teenager activities. it was only when things got more complicated did the struggles begin to control her. the assignments were more dangerous, the jobs more lethal. she spent enough time setting boundaries for herself, as to not go insane. she couldn't focus on having a stupid boring teenager life. there wasn't enough time in a day. and yet she watched as people shot an italian dead, washed their hands, and went off to meet friends for drinks. or a movie. or to go, i don't know, bowling. when she shot an italian dead, she would wash her hands and spend the rest of the night obsessing over what she'd just done. watching everything in rewind; the life leaking from their eyes, mixing with the blood that was pooling on the pavement. how do you watch that and then go off to listen to music and pound a few beers?

jamie said it got easier with time. it becomes like a day job, once you clock out, it all fades into a haze. it didn't get easier with time. it got more difficult with time. at the beginning, that's when it was easier. she couldn't believe what she was doing, so she chose not to think about it. she pretended it was all a dream. watch the blood circle the drain, bleach it, and then check out. don't thinkthinkthink. don't visualizevisualizevisualize. don't do any of it. but how many times can you tell yourself something before your mind realizes that it's total crap? it didn't get easier with time. she got weaker with time. some people could wash their hands and forget about it. people like jamie didn't even react. it came back to haunt them from time to time, but they recovered quickly. it took a single year for ksenia to fall victim to all of it. all she did was thinkthinkthink. visualizevisualizevisualize. the shadows jumped at her, spider legs craving her blood, threatening her with fanged whispers. all this easier with time meant that watching the bodies fall, that's what got easier with time. the clarity, the smell of the blood, the stained pavement. eighteen months ago, it had been easier. all that got easier with time was the power of the shadows, spider legs craving her blood, threatening her with fanged whispers. that got easier. it was differentiating sane from insane that got harder.

what is normal? abnormal? she used to think normal was going to the movies, or starbucks, or not doing her homework. she thought abnormal was threatening people, cutting off their fingers, sucking down their pleads. now, today, normal was toothy shadow grins, hungry for her sanity. abnormal was going out in public without a goal to hurt someone. pretending to be a taxpayer, with a credit card bill and a bad dental plan. some people could do it - the family, beachy summers, suv thing. other people didn't do it - they didn't even think about it. she couldn't. whatever it was, she was lacking it. and she hated it. she still tried, played pretend with paper dolls and drawn-on smiles. maybe it would get easier with time.

but she did it alone now. the last time ksenia had been in public, being a normal taxpayer, her ex-best friend had earned a pretty price on her head. lesson learned. no more company. if they were watching her be boring, let them. she had a pistol, unregistered, in her satchel. today, this afternoon, she was playing pretend at the mall. it wasn't outside, where the spider legs and whispers could sneak up on her. and it was around people, enough so the shadows wouldn't come looking for blood. she was playing pretend. pretended to be the ksenia sakahrov from five years ago, with insecurities and a shopping addiction and a problem not getting text messages. she drew on a vague smile and hid in the racks of clothes and jewellery. it worked, too. people only saw that, not the empty-eyed girl with unconditioned hair and three day-old clothing. if enough people believed it, sometimes she did too. the rope handles of an armani exchange bag hung loosely from her wrist. a half-empty cappuccino from starbucks rested in her left hand. she explored her surroundings, credit card bills dancing in her eyes. she was playing pretend like an expert today. part of her was convinced this could be normal.

she didn't pay attention to where she was going. if something looked interesting, she let it catch her attention before she could think about anything else. the bright shirt distracted from the lifeless eyes and askew, deadened grin. her feet brought her to the trendy little boutique, with its irony t-shirts and funny belt buckles. her hands fingered a white scarf, because her mind knew jamie would hate it. they also twisted a leather bracelet between her fingers, a blood-colored ring crawled onto her finger for inspection. she was good at this, distractions. her eyes looked everywhere, taking in every detail of the store so she wouldn't look at the shadows and their toothy grins. she liked the bracelet, and the ring felt cool on her dry skin. the scarf would make jamie rolls his eyes, which was worth the eighteen dollars. pausing at the cash register, her eyes cleared for the first time since entering the store. it happened eventually, when she was out of her zombiepathwalknojog. he was looking over her shoulder, a sickened and amused look in his eyes. looking over her shoulder, clear across the half-empty boutique, she furrowed her pale eyebrows. placing the scarf and bracelet on the cold, metal counter, she followed his gaze with her feet. the ring stayed on her left index finger. shortly arriving at the clothing rack in question, she vaguely watched the apparel shifting here and there. she was too tall to be shadowed by the irony t-shirts. "bella, why are you playing hide-and-seek with yourself? i don't think you can win that way." her accented voice was low, somewhat detached. but amused, in the darkest, most ironic way allowed. every fibre of her being rubbed against isabella rovens. because she left without word. because she had a run-in with jamie. and because she didn't trust her. not anymore.

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STATUS, complete.
TAGGED, b/k !
LENGTH, 1416 words.
ATTIRE, hurr + black flipflops.
NOTES, eep, hope it's okay.
CREDITS, format and graphics to me.
lyrics to linkin park - "hands held high"

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