Hope and Memory (A Richard Armitage fan fiction)

The Shadow Of The Past

Eileen bolted upright in bed, screaming and shaking and soaked in sweat. There were hands groping in the darkness, roaming over her bare skin, hurting her, violating her in ways she couldn't begin to describe. She writhed, gasping and panting, struggling to kick the suffocating bedclothes off her. But she was twisted and caught in them, and she could not escape, couldn't get away from the hands that touched her, or the faces that laughed at her screams, or the cruel darkness that held and trapped her within its grip.

And then she was no longer in her bedroom but in a cold, dark warehouse, its frigid stone floors numbing her bare back, its inescapable walls hemming her in. And there were men with her in the darkness, doing such unspeakable things to her, her body, that she...

She...

No one heard her screams, or her pleading. And if they did, no one came to help her. No one cared.

She succeeded in throwing off her bedclothes, and she was back in her room, empty air all that touched her, and she fisted her hands in the sheets, trembling and shaking all over.

Breathe. She had to breathe. Breathing was key, and...

But even the warm air of her bedroom was suffocating.

Eileen staggered out of her bed and stumbled to the windows, knees shaking beneath her. She threw one of them open, hung her head out, cool night air kissing her skin. She took great gulps of that air, letting it fill her lungs, letting it purge those memories from her.

She could endure this; outlast it. As she had for most of her life.

But she was so tired. She was weary in her very bones, tired of suffering alone and in the dark, tired of trying to put herself back together, tired of having no one left. No one she trusted.

She could endure; outlast. She had to, because the alternative... 

There was no alternative. She was alone in dealing with this.

And she was so tired.

Eileen remained leaning out of that window until the cold started to nip at her and she went inside.

***

Eileen got no sleep after that. And she tried, God damn her, she tried, not to think of her dream, or the flashback that had followed, as she arose that morning and ate her breakfast. She tried to think of Richard, of Lara's problems, of how she was going to talk to Minty, but again and again her thoughts returned to what had happened to her. Everything –– everything –– she did was always tainted by it, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't escape it. And if it somehow affected Richard, and... whatever it was they had, she'd...

She didn't know what she'd do.

They hadn't gone any further than that beautiful kiss last night –– they'd both been too exhausted –– and hadn't taken that next step. Though she had a feeling that Richard was the type of man who would wait until she was ready, and would never force her, or even pressure her. And she wasn't ready for that next step, didn't know if she would ever be. Wouldn't contemplate what it might do to her, what memories it would dredge up. Couldn't contemplate it. She didn't know what that made her, or where it put her.

She looked up from her third coffee of the morning and finally registered the storm that raged outside. Rain lashed at her windows, setting them rattling, its grey curtain blocking any sunlight the black clouds allowed through. She shuddered, glad that her job didn't require going outside. A car purred into a parking space beside hers, likely a neighbour's friend or relative come to visit. She turned away, wrapping her hands around her mug, drawing what warmth she could from it before rising from her chair, its legs scraping the wooden floor.