One second, Reka is running down the street. Something has blossomed in her heart, as if this first violent act has unlocked something inside of her. Maybe it’s just adrenaline or shock. Maybe she’s numb, and not entirely herself. But she laughs. The puffs of smoke erupt from her lips as she laughs, and the gleam in her eye is half mad. But she is proud of herself, in a way. Proud that she is capable of defending herself. Of standing up to who she believed deserved every lashing that he got.
Of course she’s not thinking about where she’s going, or where she could possibly go. She has no friends and no family outside of her parents in their shabby run-down home, and her grandmother who lived nearby. But those are the first places they’ll look. They will be looking for her, she knows. She knows there’s no way she’ll still have a job. They’ll send for shrinks and psychiatrists. They’ll lock her up, put her away. She should be terrified of what will happen to her, but she saves the terror for later. For now, she revels in how good she feels. There’s no way she wants this elation to be marred by fear or regret.
The next second, however, she’s being snatched up by strong arms; a man who probably shouldn’t be able to hold her, with her feet up off the ground, but he can and he has. The breath is stolen from Eureka’s lungs and those bright wide eyes of hers finally find a face. She struggles to begin with, but soon gives up when she realises her efforts are absolutely futile. She should be afraid, but she isn’t. Not yet. She’d got far too much adrenaline running through her veins to be afraid.
“Who the **** are you?!” she yells. It’s not a screech or a squeal. It’s a bold question, born from irritation that he should be so obtuse. She could spit on him, given half the chance. But she doesn’t. Her lips curl back in a snarl.
“I’m not a little girl. Let me go you creep!” she demands it. She doesn’t struggle. She holds the man’s eye, though her body is coiled and is as tight as a spring. Tense, and ready to thrash. Her voice bubbles in her throat, trapped; she’ll scream. She will, if he doesn’t let her go.
Of course she’s not thinking about where she’s going, or where she could possibly go. She has no friends and no family outside of her parents in their shabby run-down home, and her grandmother who lived nearby. But those are the first places they’ll look. They will be looking for her, she knows. She knows there’s no way she’ll still have a job. They’ll send for shrinks and psychiatrists. They’ll lock her up, put her away. She should be terrified of what will happen to her, but she saves the terror for later. For now, she revels in how good she feels. There’s no way she wants this elation to be marred by fear or regret.
The next second, however, she’s being snatched up by strong arms; a man who probably shouldn’t be able to hold her, with her feet up off the ground, but he can and he has. The breath is stolen from Eureka’s lungs and those bright wide eyes of hers finally find a face. She struggles to begin with, but soon gives up when she realises her efforts are absolutely futile. She should be afraid, but she isn’t. Not yet. She’d got far too much adrenaline running through her veins to be afraid.
“Who the **** are you?!” she yells. It’s not a screech or a squeal. It’s a bold question, born from irritation that he should be so obtuse. She could spit on him, given half the chance. But she doesn’t. Her lips curl back in a snarl.
“I’m not a little girl. Let me go you creep!” she demands it. She doesn’t struggle. She holds the man’s eye, though her body is coiled and is as tight as a spring. Tense, and ready to thrash. Her voice bubbles in her throat, trapped; she’ll scream. She will, if he doesn’t let her go.
