Billie couldn't even blink, her eyes unmoving and settled on West's widened ones. His, however, roamed all over her half-naked body, staring. Her lungs clogged, her whole body solely focused on the way it was exposed, on the way it was being scrutinized.
West was rooted at his spot by the door, seemingly oblivious to the way the air around them tightened, brown eyes still staring.
Billie knew she needed to say something, to break the silence that enhanced the awkwardness of the situation. She cleared her throat, then chuckled, the sound so, so forcible.
"It's rude to stare like that at the lady." Her words sliced through the air, and Billie swiftly turned around, fiddling with her bathrobe. The mask had fallen as soon as she looked away from him, and her eyes closed on their own accord. She blinked several times, chasing away treacherous tears and took an inaudible sigh.
West's footsteps echoed in her ears and she felt him getting closer and closer, until he grabbed her by her shoulders. Ever so slowly, gently, West turned her towards him. Billie wanted to fight, to protest against his manhandling, yet it was as if the strength had abandoned her.
West pulled her bathrobe off. Billie's shoulders sagged, the last bit of vigor slowly vaporizing into the thin air.
"Oh Billie," West murmured, his voice timid, scared, "what have they done to you?"
Billie shuddered as West's hesitant fingers traced the lines that ruined her skin. His touch was gentle, a barely there whisper, yet it felt as it was stabbing needles along its path. Pinkish, ugly scares spread out all over her body, marring her skin, a life long reminder of her past.
"What have they done?" West whispered again, his voice strained, face distraught. His eyes were sad, clouded, glistening under the soft ray of the ceiling light above them, eyes half open in disbelief. He looked as if in pain.
Billie meekly shrugged, inviting her senses back. "What? You're a soldier, West. Surely you are aware of what your government does to its high level prisoners."
"This is... madness! This is... torture!" West's voice was sharper now, his face harder, fists clenched. He pressed the heels of his palm against his eyes, the whirled around in a heartbeat. Billie didn't even flinch when a loud bang reverberated of the walls, or when another one followed, then another, then another. She stood there, still half-naked, covered in ugly scars, staring at the way the man before her broke down in the only way he knew.
West finally stopped, and leaned his forehead against the cold, metal door of the cabinet, not knowing whether to cry, or scream, or go after anyone who dared hurt her.
"West." He heard Billie's determined voice, but failed to look at her, unable to bear it. "West, pull yourself together."
She was so calm, so untouched, as if it wasn't her body, as if it wasn't her who was tortured. He finally looked at her. She was so strong, so fierce, so beautiful.
He wanted to comfort her, yet she needed no comfort. He wanted to hug her, protect her from everyone, yet she wouldn't allow him. He loved her, yet he couldn't forget what she'd done.
"Billie, I-I--"
She shook her head, and reached for her bathrobe, covering her numerous scars. "What's done it's done. I ain't the type to cry over the spilled milk. My plans are different."
West wasn't sure whether this quest they embarked on was one of vengeance, yet a small part of him, one untouched by years of drilling and military training, wanted to punish those responsible for her pain. He also wasn't sure how big that part chould get should he continue this journey.
"Billie, plea-"
"Just go West," she said, voice strained, broken. For a moment, she looked tired, so very tired, as if on a brink of letting go and toppling down into a pile of bones. West nodded, cleaned his blooded knuckles over his shirt, turned around and disappeared through the door.
And the silence reigned over once again.
ns 15.158.61.5da2
