Broken Doll

He held back a sniff, having to hide his smirk. "Mhm..." Preston pulled his hand away, letting it rest on his knee as he glanced aside again at her. Jesus Christ, if this was how she acted when she was in the infirmary, then it was no wonder they'd tried to eagerly to get her out of their hands. 'You could try,' the Autumn almost said, holding back a groan. "They said to get you out I had cater to your dumb ass, and making sure you stayed fucking -!" She got the point. "Are you going to help me with with shit or not?" Otherwise, he was about ready to drag her back to Ethan. It was beyond getting old already.

It felt like every word, every movement, every second that ticked by was an uphill slog. Her bandages might as well have been weights and chains holding her back and holding her down, but she'd die before she gave up. She would. She wasn't that pathetic that she'd let this fucking monkey... do... that to her. But the thought of going back to the infirmary made her want to explode the whole school. He wouldn't. Kayla wasn't lying. She'd kill him. Right now, it'd be hard, but she would fucking kill him.

Kayla just bared her teeth, eyes still clenched shut so she didn't have to look at him. Her head was spinning, her heart was racing. Slow breaths. It was all she could do right now. Even shouting felt like it could knock the wind out of her. Just calm the fuck down, but just being around him right now made her want to try and kick him right between the legs. A fire was burning in her chest.

There were a few moments of silence before she was ready to respond again, letting up a bit of the tension in the room. "O-okay..." she murmured. That was it. One strained word, spat out through clenched teeth. She opened her eyes to look at him again. There was a full flush of red across her cheeks, and despite the tone, you could see the uncertainty on her face. "But I'm setting the fucking rules here, alright? I'm in fucking charge." God, just staring at him from her position right now made her want to curl up and die, but she mustered her dignity and kept her gaze. "So fucking listen to me, alright?"

She couldn't take it anymore. Kayla turned her head to the side. "Just... don't look at me." More electricity sparked around her face. "And if you ever, ever, ever tell anybody about this, I'll fucking kill you. I'm not joking." She really wasn't. "Don't even fucking think about it, alright?!"

How long had that suffocating silence lasted? It couldn't have lasted for more than a few moments, but it felt like it could've gone on for an eternity with both of them stubbornly holding their breaths. Preston clenched his fist. There he was, all too ready to stuff that shoe of hers back between her jaws and dragging her ass back to the infirmary kicking and screaming. To say the least, her agreement (albeit reluctant) was one of the last things he'd been expecting.

"Are... You're serious?" The words stumbled awkwardly out of his mouth, not sure he could exactly believe what he was hearing. The Autumn sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and resisting to urge to roll his eyes up to the ceiling. It was stupid that she was the one demanding to be in charge considering the state she was in, but fuck it - if that's what it took to get her to cut her shit. "Fine, it's all you." He muttered, biting his tongue to keep any other smart-ass remarks from escaping.

As she threatened him into silence, he couldn't help give her the smallest crooked smile. Even if he didn't tell a soul, he would never, ever forget this; and that was damn well good enough for him. "Not a fucking soul," he said, tracing a lazy cross across his chest. "Now, where do we start off again?" Pres asked, glancing back at her other worn shoe for a moment before he remembered he wasn't supposed to stare... Even if it was just fucking footwear.

It surprised her as much as anybody, but it was just the matter of facing a simple truth. She was a broken doll. She couldn't walk, she couldn't stand, she couldn't move, she could barely feed herself, and to try and pretend she could climb in the bath and take a shower just fine... Well, it was fucking ridiculous. It pricked at her pride, but it was true, and she fucking hated that. The only reason they let her out of that sterile white room was because she had someone to wheel her around and spoon feed her and replace all her bandages. Kayla Croft was a broken doll, and she couldn't even undress herself.

That would've been fine. She would've fought to the death to keep something this humiliating from happening, even if it meant getting abandoned on the floor or going without showering for however many weeks or months it took... But in the back of her mind, maybe she was afraid that he wasn't bluffing. Kayla didn't want to go back to the infirmary.

Admitting that would have been even more painful than agreeing to let Preston strip her down like this, so she didn't. Even if she realized it in the very far back corner of her mind, she refused to acknowledge it.

Kayla's eyes were daggers, but she didn't look at him. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut through. Every tortured second of silence that ticked past gnawed at her from the inside out. She was one shoe short and covered in bandages. Where to start...? Was he really asking her that? "Just fucking get it over with, asshole," she finally whispered.

Preston stared down at her, slowly blinking and wondering for a split-second if it had been worth it to say anything at all. Didn't she just get finished saying that that she was supposed to be the one in charge? It was a waste of time to question her stupid attitude, he decided. Everything about this wasn't worth dwelling on. And so he merely nodded, his hand reaching for her other shoe, which looked more like a clunky boot more than anything else. The Autumn couldn't help but wonder, how the hell did she manage to break her toes? Did she stub herself on a brick wall?

He began to chew at his cheek as he pulled back the thick velcro straps and slipped the boot off, flinging it over his shoulder to wherever the other was. The white cast was thick, making her right foot twice as big as the left. God, how annoying it would be to unwrap the entire thing by hand. They didn't have time for that shit. Luckily, Pres came prepared, leaning forward just enough to pull a small folded out of his back pocket. Carefully, conscious not to cut against the fiberglass underneath (and it probably wouldn't be best to put the knife to her skin), he sliced through the material. Even with the sharp blade, it took a few minutes to take the thing off completely. "Fucking hell," Preston muttered under his breath once it had all finally gone. He tossed the bandages in the trash.

Some part of him wanted to look at her face then. Was she glaring and hissing curses through her teeth, or was she even looking at him at all? He couldn't bring himself to find out, not yet anyways. He pulled off her single sock and began to move upwards, pausing once he realized exactly how badly she'd been beaten up. It's true, they'd spent practically the entire afternoon together at that point, but he'd never really, well, seen the damage. He hadn't bothered too. Now, it was all too clear, the many cuts, scabbed ugly reds and bruises of every other almost completely covered her legs.

"Shit," he muttered. "How many floors did you fall down again?" Preston wasn't even sure if she heard her, but in that silence, he wouldn't be surprised if she did. It was strange. When they were together, they were always loud, arguing, throwing shit or just being general dumbasses. This silence though, it was abnormal, and uncomfortable even for him. This had to be the worst undressing he ever had. /shot

His eyes moved upwards to those short jeans of hers. The smallest smile flitted across his face. Admittedly, he sometimes imagined things coming down to this. After all, they were roommates, and he wasn't exactly a picky guy; but it sure as hell never went down like this in his mind. He'd never even considered it a possibility, and yet, there they were. Still, considering the situation, he felt a little sick. 'Don't fucking kill me,' he thought to himself. Sure, she couldn't exactly move, but Pres wouldn't put it past her to find a way to stick a knife in his back at the last moment. He tried not to think about that, slipping his hand under the towel and reaching for the button hiding underneath.

This was the fucking worst.

Those green eyes felt like burning brands searing into her body as he fought to dismantle the medical boot, before moving on to the plaster underneath. His hands were even worse. It was a little ridiculous, but even through something as clunky and unfeeling as a fiberglass cast, it was hard to keep still. Her heart was thumping. Thumping like it was trying to burst out of her rib cage. Even if this was the easiest part, a part of her just wanted to snatch back her words from before and start squirming out of his grasp again, but she fought to stay still. Relax... just relax.

Finally, he sliced away the plaster, liberating her leg from her fiberglass shackle. She bit her tongue as he pulled away at her sock, pain shooting up her three taped-up broken toes, but then that was it. After however many minutes of struggling, they'd finally managed to get her barefoot. Great. Fucking fantastic. This was exactly the last thing she had on her mind when Pres had come to wheel her out of the infirmary. Fuck... Things had been pretty relaxed just a couple minutes ago, but those couple of minutes seemed an eternity away now. It was hard to get back in that casual state of mind in a position like this. How'd they get from watching old cartoons to... to whatever this fucking crap was.

She almost flinched when he spoke again. Kayla could feel him looking at her, at the cuts and bruises that covered her legs. There was that all-too-familiar queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She glanced down at him through the corner of her eyes, breathing through clenched teeth. Was it even worth answering? Glass. That was it. A single punch was all that it'd taken to send her flying, and she'd bounced off a concrete floor and rolled over a bunch of broken glass. The nurses had all said she'd suffered internal bleeding from the hit, and there was still an ugly bruise spread over her stomach where she'd hit her.

The towel was a shitty shield, and even then, it didn't cover her all the way. That was probably the worst part. Draped over her body, it only covered her from armpit-level to her thighs, only barely going past the hem of her shorts.

Even though she knew what was coming next, she still wasn't ready for it. It was never even a conscious thought. His hand slipped under the towel, brushing over her shorts, his fingers coming up to fumble at the button. There was a sharp intake of breath, and she tensed up, tensed up as much as she could in her current condition. "Ah...!" She glared at him, but her expression was more helpless and shy than fierce. There were a hundred things she could've said, but all her words just caught in her throat.

At this point, there wasn't anything she could do to fight back. It'd be stupid after everything she said.

So she just watched, her face contorted in a bright red wince.

This really was the fucking worst.

Perhaps it was a good thing for her that Pres was so practiced in pulling off a girl's clothes. There was no awkward, prolonged fighting with the button, it was undone with the smallest snap in a matter of moments. He near flinched when Kayla had dared to make a sound, bracing for the worst, to have his hear screamed into or something thrown into the back of his head. Nothing happened, though. His green eyes glanced her way, catching a glimpse of the look on her face. Preston couldn't think of any other time he'd seen her so flustered before in his life. He wasn't sure what to think of it, considering their situation. That uncertainty in itself made things all the worse entirely. Quietly, he moved his other hand under the towel, shifting around onto his knees to hover just slightly over her, all too aware as the growing tension I'm the room spiked. He was holding his breath, he realized, as he slipped a finger behind the rim of hee clothes, feeling the slightest touch of the soft fabrics underneath. He hesitated, glancing at her once more before quickly averting his gaze away again. This was definitely not like his fantasies.

Fuck it. In one quick, smooth movement, Preston pulled down on the sides of. Her shorts, slickly moving them down her legs and onto the floor, careful not to displace the towel or touch her purple toes.

He sat back on his feet, placing his hand on neck for a moment. Weird as it fucking was, he was already feeling anxious himself, the steady beating in his chest picked up the pace. What the hell was he getting so worked up over? He shook his head, reaching over to toss away her clothes. "Almost done, Pikac-" he stopped in his tracks, accidently catching the eye of the small, colorful pair of underwear inside. They were adorable, even to his lame tastes, pink and white stripes, with strips of laces and a little faux diamond to adorn the cute bow on front. It took every bit of strength in him to stifle his laughter then, his face turning half as red as hers. "F-fuck," the words stumbled out of his mouth. Instead of trying to say anything, he just reached, far less gracefully than before, for the hem of her shirt.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. Fuuuck.

Everything about this made her want to squirm. Or hurl. Or both. Or worse. Her stomach had tied itself up in knots, her face was burning up, her head was spinning, her heart... Was it possible to have a heart attack from this kind of thing? She swore she could've felt the adrenaline rushing through her veins when his fingers brushed over the front of her shorts, fiddling with the button for only a second before he'd snapped it open. It was such a small sound, but it might as well have been loud as a thunderclap. Kayla flinched with a sharp intake of breath, almost gasping, as he leaned over her and slipped his other hand underneath the short towel to hook his fingers behind her shorts and the fabric underneath.

She could feel his hands against her skin. Kayla could've shuddered, but thankfully, she didn't. She just laid there, tensing up as stiff as a board as he tugged down on her shorts, pulling her underwear down with them.

Fuck....

It was as quick and fluid as he could've done it without just ripping them off. He pulled them down her scarred and bandaged legs, slipped her feet through, and moved to toss them aside with her other discarded clothes. Kayla breathed a small sigh. She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath. Exposed. She felt vulnerable, weak, helpless. This was fucking embarrassing. Fuck...!

Deep breaths. Calm. Calm. Calm. Just relax, right? Relax. Fucking relax.

Kayla couldn't relax. It was like every sense was heightened. Even with all the pain, she could barely sit still. This was fucking killing her. How was she supposed to get through this...? It'd been bad before, but now, she wasn't even wearing anything down there, under that rumpled tiny towel that barely went past her thighs. And he...

Fuck.

It hurt just to think about this.

He moved forward to lean over her, hands slipping under the towel to move toward the trim of her shirt. The breadth of space between his fingers and her waist felt electrified. She curled the fingers of her good hand into a loose fist, eyes focused on him, swallowing the building dread and queasiness. It was a sudden sharp feeling, a blend of fear and embarrassment and discomfort as keen as a knife. Self-conscious. There wasn't really a better way to describe it. How was he supposed to do this without moving the towel? Sparks popped near her head in quick, skittish clusters like firecrackers. "H-hey..." she murmured, her voice half a whisper. "Just... don't look at me, alright...?" A reminder? A warning? Either way, it was useless. Was something like that even possible in the situation they were both in right now?

He began edging the shirt up slowly as she began to speak, finding it hard to move the cotton fabric out of the way without dragging the entire towel along with it. The young man let out a huff of irritation, glancing up just in time as Kayla began muttering stubborn, half-hearted words his way. Am awkward smile flashed across his face, "Tryin' my best here," He called back under his breath. He'd wanted to get this over with almost as much as she did, and it was clear that this was turning out to be more tricky than he'd originally thought.

Preston placed his hand flat on her stomach nimbly, spreading his fingers out across her toes to help hold the towel in place as he awkward, with the other hand, because to push and shrug the shirt off of her body. Once it reached past her shoulders, he used both hands again to ease the cloth off the rest of the way.

He'd noticed something though as he finished his work, just how badly the girl had been beaten up. Her body was such a mess, and that had been still agmfter thr magicalbhealer Ethan had gotten a hold of her. In a way, it was sickening, and that wasn't the lnly thing. Past the bandages and the clean cuts and bruises left from her daring mission. Tons of smaller, darker scars, varying in sizes and shapes. Some looked as if they'd been tears or scrapes at once time, others were small, round and twisted ugly. Years of dumb partying gave him a clue as to what those were.

The Autumn hadn't been sure if the silence could have gotten any thicker, but for a few moments, it did. He tried to find something, anything to tall about. "Battle scars," he mused. "Enough to drive any lady wild." It wasn't working very well. He held his breaty, easing Kayla up just enough until he could snap the back of her bra off. (A solid blue, he noted duly.)

This part...

They'd already gotten this far, and he'd already done worse, but her stomach did somersaults at the idea of what came next. He didn't get it. He really didn't get it. Kayla could just flinch at his voice, and the placement of his hands. He'd put his hand right where the pinball girl had socked her in the gut with the momentum of a semi-truck. Just get over it. Calm down. Calm down. Calm down. She couldn't calm down. Any words she had just caught in her throat, and then she was drawing in breath, half-closing her eyes as began to pull up her shirt.

Rakes of pain swept up her back, up her up her stomach, up her chest, but that wasn't what hurt most. The towel, even with Preston's hand pinning it to her stomach, almost shuffled off her body. Her cheeks were beet-red by the time he'd pushed the shirt up to her shoulders, and she almost gasped in pain when he finally managed to pull it over her head, just praying the towel wouldn't slip any further down than it already had.

When it was over, she could feel his eyes burning into her.

A towel was a shitty cover.

To begin with, it'd only covered her from her thighs to just below her arms, but practically naked like this... He could see all the things she hadn't wanted him to see, even after her flimsy warning. Not just the bandages from the pinball girl, or the stitches in her shoulder, or even the amount of skin that was showing, but all her old cuts and scrapes, and the ugly red welts that dotted her body here and there.

She couldn't even look at him. Kayla just flinched, waves of pain coursing through her as he lifted her up.

There was a snap, and that was it. She winced like he'd just smacked her across the face. Her heart pounded in her chest, so loud that she was afraid he'd hear.

Now she really was naked.

Kayla grit her teeth. The pain was barely concealed on her face. Battle scars... It would've been better if he hadn't said anything. "I said not to look..." she murmured between quiet ragged breaths, but she sounded more resigned than hostile. You could hear the strain in her voice.

It was impossible to not look. For some time, he did sincerely try, gritting his teeth through the silence and darting his eyes away, but curiosity had gotten the best of him in the end. Narrowly, he tried to be discreet about it, picking up the last of her clothes and tossing them back behind them, all the while his gaze taking in every scrape, stitch, and scar down the length of her body. He'd felt bad for her before, even if admitting that was the last thing he'd ever say, but this was just... depressing. Preston said nothing, chewing at his cheek again and pulling out his small blade again to take care of the last of the hard casts. There was no use in getting any of it wet, and nurse-boy had given him plenty to replace it all with.

Lucky for her that he'd done these sort of things before, he thought dryly, cutting bits of cast away where they weren't needed and tossing the scraps into a small pile on the tile floor. There were no words he could think of to say that would comfort her in the slightest, but the thick silence was beyond insufferable, and he found himself just thinking aloud as he worked.

"Had to do this for my older brother once, the jackass who dared me to jump off that bridge," the Autumn mused, pausing for the sound of another piece being ripped slowly away. "He went and got a brand new car for his birthday. Took it to some stupid house party and got wasted off his ass, then tried to drive it back home. You can imagine how well that shit went."

He'd lived of course, but then there was the whole mess that followed; his girl in the passenger's seat dying and the manslaughter charges that had went along with it, but Kayla didn't need to know any of that. "I ended up being the sad sap who had to play 'butler' the moment he left the hospital." Preston paused, as if he were going to make a point, but he didn't have one. He reached up somewhat awkwardly for another towel instead. He spent months stuck at his older brother's bedside, without much thanks to show-for it considering it all.

Pres kept on a straight face, wrapping the towel nimbly around her torso like a dress and getting back up onto his feet, grabbing her bridal style again and giving her a moment to brace herself. Far more gently than before, and careful not to let the towels slip away, he lifted her up and inside the bathtub. It was awkward trying to put her inside without falling in himself, but he managed. Finally, he could turn the water on.

Even if she'd accepted it, she couldn't just get used to... this. How fucking could she? She'd already had to deal with too much humiliation already... This was just pushing it over the edge. But there was nothing she could do about it. There wasn't any fighting it or working her way out. The cold fact was that she couldn't take care of herself, and it was easier for both of them if she just laid back and let him get it over with. Kayla let her gaze drift to the floor, the fingers on her good hand curling into a loose weak fist.

Preston's voice broached the silence. She couldn't say if she was glad for that or not. The tension had been so thick you could barely breathe, but all these halfhearted attempts to lighten the atmosphere just darkened her mood more and more. Kayla just listened on in silence as he cut away at the rest of the casts. "Huh..." she murmured. "Your brother sounds like a fucking idiot." At the same time, she couldn't help but let the smallest flicker of a smile pass over her face. He was a good little brother. She'd never say it out loud, but he was. Something told her he would've just brushed it off anyways.

The hint of a smile was gone as quick as it came. They both knew which step came next, right? That was the best part of this whole thing... It only got worse the more they went on. She just stared up at the ceiling as he draped another towel around her, and grit her teeth as he moved to scoop her up into his arms. Sharp pangs shot up her spine once he'd lifted her up into the air, but she just grit her teeth, sitting still in dignified silence as he awkwardly laid her down into the tub.

Fuck, she was exhausted.

That was the only thought she could process right now.

A bath should've been relaxing after everything that'd happened, but this wasn't anything like how she'd imagined it. How long had Pres been expecting to do something like this? Did he make plans beforehand? He could've warned her first, at least. Kayla let out a small breath, watching Pres through half-lidded eyes. The water began to pour with a crank of the faucet, splashing at her feet. She almost winced at the scalding temperature, but she kept her composure. Even if she was going to be put through all of this, she wouldn't let him fucking babysit her, and that meant not complaining. The tub began to fill up before long, moving up to lap further up her legs. Kayla just laid there in silence. Even if she wanted to say anything, she couldn't.

A fucking idiot, Preston repeated thoughtfully, standing up and away from the running water to reach for a few other items; a clear bottle with a thick, bubblegum liquid included. "Oh yeah, great guy. AA member, kinda emo now, always smoking up on the roofes. I bet you two would get along famously." He joked blandly, his eyes catching the scars across her arms the moment he turned back around, and for a heartbeat he had regretted his shit choice if words. But oh well there was nothing to change what he said now. The Autumn took a seat again, twisting the cap off the bottle and was about to poor the insides along with the water before he'd realized how God damned hot it was.

"Jesus Christ," He flinched from the heat, turning the water down at once and finally started pouring the bubble bath into the mixing tub. It didn't take long for mountains of small, white foam to appear on the surface. Pres began to shuffle around, looking for a sponge.

Kayla instinctively twisted up her face in distaste, but tried not to let it show. A mopey burnout, huh...? Yeah, sounded just like her kind of guy. She just let out a quiet snort of contempt, somewhat glad for the small breach in silence, but not enough that she cared to respond. Thinking about something else took a little edge off the heat, or at least, she liked to imagine it did. Kayla just practiced measured quiet breathing, trying not to betray the pain from the scalding water or the embarrassment from... well, everything else. Maybe it was too late for the latter, though. Her cheeks were still a glowing beet red, and the hot steaming water didn't make it any better.

She barely noticed him as he grabbed the bottle, only breaking out of her stupor when Pres finally tested the water for himself. Kayla couldn't help but release a barely noticeable sigh of relief as he gave the knob another turn. At this point, the water had already begun to spill over her stomach and legs, nearly filling up over her chest. The wet towels were plastered to her skin, but she still couldn't shake the gnawing feeling of being naked. It was a gnawing anxiety in the back of her mind, overwhelming all her other thoughts.

So maybe that's why she didn't notice it until it'd already started to pour, clouding the water and piling on a small layer of bubbles and foam over the water surface. Kayla just blinked, not sure whether to laugh or shout. "Really...?" she asked in a low voice, a strange mixture of amusement and embarrassment. God, this whole situation was just fucking unreal... This was the last thing she ever expected when she'd been woken up that day. This stays between us. Remember that, fucker.

Preston might've added a bit more of the juice into the water than he probably should have, but they did need a lot of cover to work with, didn't they? If it really bothered him that much, he'd stop by the convenience store some time and buy her some more of her precious soap. He hadn't managed to find a sponge exactly, but he did find the small loofah from before hiding out in a corner of the bathroom. Once he had everything he needed, he sat back down and got comfortable on the floor, leaning forward against the dry wall of the tub and glancing now and then to make sure the water didn't run too high.

"There a problem, Pikachu?" He asked, looking again at the growing mass of bubbles that were appearing at her feet, starting to float over her legs as water rose more and more. His gaze flickered over to her, then to the bubbles again, and back to her. He had to bite back a stupid smirk, reaching out and scooping out a large pile of foam in his hands. He quickly moved it over, plopping it down on top of her head. "Don't question the fucking bubbles. I know what I'm doing." He tried to serious, though it may not have been working as well as he'd liked, throwing on more of the white fizziness.