On a knife's edge (Sepia)

[Ω-Admin-Cara-Ω]

Cara bowed her head as he spoke. "You have my word, Sir." She said softly. "I will be in the gym." Dropping a graceful curtsy, more out of habit than anything - and biting back the pain - she headed across the campus and into the gymnasium that held the academy's sporting facilities.

She sneakers didn't make a sound on the wooden floor of the hallway as she made her way down to the gymnastics studio where she had told Lee that she would meet him. She did have the chance to flee, but as soon as she had given him her word that she would be here it was like setting something in concrete, she would be where she said.

Crossing the gymnastics studio, she walked straight to the scales. Guessing that she would have a few minutes to herself before the older teen walked into the room. Stepping up, she adjusted the weights on the scale until it was even, and smiled as she saw the numbers. 69, she was finally getting to where her coach wanted her and this was something to be please about. Right?

[sepia]

Tripping over his cat on the way in to his little flat alerted Lee to the prospect of actually putting the lights on, which he then did, much to the disgruntlement of said cat, who apparently liked running around in the dark trying to break his neck. "Look, Meg," he told the primly sitting tortoiseshell, "This whole walking-around-at-night-thing-trying-to-find-where-I-put-my-medical-supplies isn't actually totally gratuitous, so it would be really helpful if you'd keep out the way - and, no, Owain, you don't need to be walked right this very minute," he told his dog as he was fixed with brown eyes.

Despite his animal's best efforts, he did meet with success, hefting the neat little box (a black plastic one, with nothing on its exterior that suggested it held anything particularly healthy) in triumph as he exited his little flat. The gym wasn't far, so it was only a few minutes after Cara had entered the right room that Lee did, helped significantly by the fact that the gymnastics studio was the one place which had more than just the emergency lights on.

Walking in, he was somewhat surprised to find Cara fiddling around with the scales... but maybe she'd felt the need to do something. Activity was how he's always dealt with situations he disliked. "Hello," he said, as he carefully let the door close behind him. Looking around, his eyes alighted on some pieces of equipment that would do as chairs. "It'd probably be easier if you sit," he ventured, tentative tone back in his voice.

[Ω-Admin-Cara-Ω]

Cara jumped as Lee entered the room and she slid one of the weights on the scale so that it knocked off her current weight, and she stepped off the scale.

"It'd probably be easier if you sit,"

She crossed the studio to the bench seat not too far from where Lee stood with his black box. She bit her lip as she unzipped her jacket. She worse nothing under it, as other than a camisole she didn't have the need for any other girlie underwear - as flat chested as she was - and she had no modesty when it came to undressing in front of others, but she did wonder how he would take it. Swallowing hard, she allowed the jacket to slide off her shoulders and she took it to cover the front of her. Clenching her lower lip between her teeth, she waited to hear what would be said about the criss-cross of scars, wounds and other marks on her back. "It's not as bad as it looks." She offered.

[sepia]

Having a similar approach to modesty when it came to undressing - or, at least, in circumstances like this, as if someone had ever actually tried to strip off and seduce Lee he probably would have had an utterly different reaction to, as in this case, someone taking their jacket off for medical attention - and never having been bothered to take part in what he thought of as the rather pointless obsession with people's bodies and their attractiveness that so many people seemed to partake in, Lee was utterly unphased by Cara's actions, though glad that she seemed to be okay with it, too.

"I'll take your word for it," he muttered, tone low as he reined back the anger rising again within him. Help Cara, then get angry, he told himself sternly. A lot of the wounds were old, obviously things he could do nothing about, but the most recent ones, obviously from tonight - those were his objective. Placing his box next to Cara on the bench seat, he flipped it open, revealing a wealth of carefully obtained and hoarded medicines, bandages and, most importantly to begin with, antiseptic wash.

"This is probably going to sting," he warned only moments before, as gently as he could, beginning to wash over the lash marks with the bacteria-destroying liquid. He figured, though, that given the amount of abuse Cara's back had been subjected to, a slight discomfort due to something that was actually going to help was something she'd probably be able to ignore. Forcibly restraining himself from saying anything mildly irate directed at the social worker who'd done this, on the basis that getting angry at someone who wasn't present could hardly be constructive, he applied himself to the job.

[Ω-Admin-Cara-Ω]

Cara jumped as the antiseptic wash touched her back, and her body's automatic reaction was to pull away, she closed her eyes and entered the bubble that she used before competitions and recitals. It was a place where she felt safe, a place where her mind could escape to and forget what was happening in the real world. A place where she created the world.

In her private world, she wandered down a path that led through a beautiful rose garden. The scent of the roses was almost overpowering, but in a pleasant way. There was something about the garden that seemed to tug at a memory that was locked away somewhere in the recesses of her brain. She took a chance to look around the rest of the garden. Over to her left was a shadow, she guessed was the home to which this flowery heaven belonged. To her right was a love-seat that was sheltered under the branches of a large Weeping Willow. Tied to one of the strong branches of the tree was a small swing that resembled more of a cradle than it did a swing.

Searing pain popped her bubble and she gripped lip between her teeth to stop herself from whimpering. "Ow." She squeaked. The images from the inside of the bubble already vanishing from her mind.

[sepia]

Instinctively backing up at Cara's squeaked exclamation of pain (squeaked exclamations of pain where never a good thing!) he realised what the problem was as he took a closer look at what he'd been tending to. "Sorry," he apologised, "This one's deeper than the others." The deepest, thankfully, he noted, as he grit his teeth and continued, thinking that he'd probably never better become a doctor. Partly he doubted he could handle the bedside manner for long, but the thought of having to treat people you actually knew - as opposed to faceless strangers - also put him off.

Not letting himself think about precisely what had actually caused these wounds - not thinking about it until later, anyway - he finished up the washing job as quickly as he could, the excess heavily alcohol-based antiseptic evaporating in moments, and fished out some antiseptic cream: one could never be too careful. "Just this, then I'll but some bandages over to keep them clean," Lee said, very glad he'd taken the time to thoroughly wash his hands back in his room as he applied a liberal amount of the white cream. "From what I can tell - and I'm not qualified, particularly, beyond a course I took at school - they should heal up pretty well." Better than some of the others, he thought, darkly, which had clearly gone untreated by anything except time.

[Ω-Admin-Cara-Ω]

She nodded as he spoke, trying to recapture the images she had seen inside her bubble and gave a vexed hiss when she couldn't! She bit her lip after the hiss as she hadn't meant the make the sound out-loud. "Sorry." She whispered.

Even though he had been working on her back for a while, she still jumped as his hands touched her back. She nodded as he said they should heal up well, unsure whether this was a good thing or not, as every scar on her body was someone's mark of triumph, including the brand she had on the back of her left hipbone. The brand was a simple mark an S over the top of a D, a gift from a past foster family - it was something they did to all their workers. Yes, even including the self-inflected scars on her wrists. Well, they were also a reminder of her failure, an ever present reminder of where she had crashed and burned. Something she swore never to do again.

"Thank you, Sir." She finally said in no more than a whisper. The weary feeling she'd had in the barn was beginning to wash over her and she wanted it to go away as she knew what sleep would bring and she didn't want to face the nightmares of her past.

[sepia]

Finishing up with the cream, Lee spread a large gauze bandage over much of Cara's back, taping it in place in such a way that it was reasonably secure, yet still gave her full mobility. It was a good thing, he thought, that woever had been beating her hadn't gone any nearer to the edges of her back, or she'd be having far more problems moving. Good thing in a relative sense, anyway. It was also a good thing - though he didn't know it - that he couldn't see the brand on Cara's hip, her trousers being high enough to hide that part of her anatomy from him. His resolve to not get angry would have been severely troubled if he'd seen that little detail.

"There we go," he said, after what seemed like an age to both of them, Lee tense from anxiety over Cara and from forcing back anger, backing off to give Cara some space. "Thank you," he added, after a moment, thanking her for the trust she'd just put in him. "And... any time you need this," a nod that she probably couldn't see given that he was behind her was aimed at his supplies to illustrate his point, "I'm available. Really. Any time."

Beginning to pack things away into his box, he kept a close eye on Cara, brain ticking over as he thought of the way they'd met in the barn. "Do you want something to help you sleep?" he asked, after a few moment's indecision. "It'll stop dreams." Or so he'd been told, anyway, never having had the opportunity to have to use it, due to his general lack of dreams.

[Ω-Admin-Cara-Ω]

Cara bowed her head as she scooted forward a little and swung the jacket back around her shoulders and then slipped her arms into the sleeves before she turned around. "It doesn't happen often." She assured him. Just when I do or say things I know I shouldn't do or say." This was normally information she didn't offer others, but now that he'd seen almost the worst of what Mr Andrews could do to her, this girl couldn't see the point in keeping it hidden.

She shook her head vehemently at the offer for something to help her sleep. "Nothing can stop my nightmares." She told him. "And I don't want anything that will removed the power of being able to wake myself up." She shrugged. "Once the day's classes start my mind will wake up, or I'll pass out." She shrugged again as though it were nothing. "Again, Sir, I thank you." She chewed on her lower lip. "If I may? I think you should phone your mother." She rose to her feet and dropped a graceful curtsy. "I bid you good day, Sir."

[sepia]

Not often was still far too many. He didn't say so, though, suspecting that the look in his eyes and the stiffness in his posture telegraphed that message rather well, and merely nodded as she declined a sleeping aid. "Well, good luck getting through the day," he said, tone somewhere between concerned and something more light-hearted. "And even if you just want to...talk, rather than get fully involved with bandages, I'm definitely available. Or, you know, if you need some company on a trail." Essentially, he thought, please let me be your friend. You look like you need some.

"I'll... definitely think about it," he said, noncommittally, before dropping his head and shoulders in an almost bow. Apparently Cara brought out the Regency gentleman in him. "Thank you. And though it's still ridiculously early: good day to you, too. I hope it only gets better from here on in." Difficult to get worse, really, though he was cynical enough to not say that it couldn't get any worse.

Not sure whether he should leave first, or allow Cara to, he dithered (rather uncharacteristically) for a few moments, letting her make the first move.

[Ω-Admin-Cara-Ω]

Cara cast a lingering look toward the changing rooms, where she knew there were showers - that is until she thought about the bandage covering her back. "Oh." The word sounded as disappointed as she suddenly felt. She really should have gone and had a shower while she was waiting for Lee to arrive. She suddenly felt dirty again - yeah, another of her many OCD's.

Shaking herself out of her disappointment, she gave another curtsy and left the room. she kinda already guessed that a gymnastics work-out was far from the list of things to do while she was waiting for the academic classes to start up that day. She she chose the next best thing and went to sit under a tree and opened her sketch book to start on a new image. Maybe this would help shake her memory and bring the image from her bubble back so that she could draw what she saw. However, no matter how hard she tried, nothing would come.

[sepia]

Looking after her as Cara went, Lee found himself frozen into immobility for a few moments as he actually really processed everything that had just happened. It all seemed rather surreal, in retrospect, but he'd certainly got a great deal further forward into the mystery that was Cara-Jean Kitchi. He was still rather helplessly impotent to do anything very much, but at least he felt that he'd managed to prove himself worthy of some sort of trust. The only thing he could do now, he supposed, was keep an eye on her, and be there if she needed him. A close eye, or as close as he could manage given that she was a student and he wasn't. And try to find out who else she had looking out for her, as he couldn't believe that she was utterly friendless, not sweet and nice as she was.

Then there was the problem of her social worker, who appeared to take great delight in harming Cara. And about that... he couldn't do anything, really. Not yet, he told himself. Not yet. But if he bided his time, maybe? Except for the fact that systems like foster care were notoriously corrupt, and given Cara's unwillingness to share, he suspected that getting rid of this man might not help her very much, if at all.

Now that he was alone, he could fear the anger - not disbelief, because he could well believe that people could so such cruel things - but anger rising again, still without a target to lash out against. After some consideration, Lee returned to his quarters, exchanged equipment, and took himself off to the gym again. Cleaning tack wasn't going to cut it, right now, he needed something physical to do.

And, maybe, hopefully, that would clarify his thoughts and give him a better idea of what the hell he should be doing next.