Gasping and trembling, Beka scrambled herself out of bed, taking care not to hurt her arm any more than it already was. Her head was pounding as she made her way over to the first aid box, dropping it on the floor, unable to control her shaking hands. She slumped down next to it and opened it, throwing things out on the floor to find what she was looking for. She winced as the cold water stung in her wounds, tears forming in her eyes. Clenching her eyes shut, she finished cleaning the wounds. She looked over them and made a face. Some of them were gaping open and, clean of blood now, still looked pretty gory. She found some steri strips in the box and used them to close the wounds. Wrapping a bandage over the whole thing she then laid back on the floor, breathing heavily.
Someone had hurt her, not just in her dream, but in real life. What had happened? Who had it been? The answer was simple, but it confused her. The voices…were they not in her head? That someone was doing this to her and it wasn’t in fact her going mad seemed like a lot nicer thought. And it had to be true because she had proof now. Someone was hurting her. There was no other explanation. She got up on shaking legs and started to walk over to the bed, stripping it off the bloodied sheets. After that she went on to scrub the blood off the floor and get rid of the knife.
You really think you can just hide it?
She winced as the voices came back, but tried to ignore them.
“I’m not mad, I’m not mad,” she repeated to herself.
That’s what you think…
She whimpered and dashed out of the Maru, determined to tell someone what was happening. They could help her, they could find this person. It would be easy. They had to have been on the ship, in her bedroom that night. It wouldn’t be hard for Andromeda to find out. She ran all the way to command, gasping for air once she got there.
“Dylan…I…need to…talk to you,” she said between sharp intakes of breath. He took one look at her and immediately nodded.
“Of course, Beka.” He walked out of command with her to stand around the corner. Looking concerned, he put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?” Beka suddenly realised how she must have looked and self-consciously ran a hand over her hair.
“Um, yeah, I just needed to…”
Do you really think he’ll believe you?
It took all she could muster not to show Dylan anything was going on, but her sentence was clipped short.
“You needed what?” His words coincided with the next words being spoken in her head and Beka had trouble concentrating on what Dylan was saying.
He’ll think you’re mad…and rightly so.
“Um,” she mumbled, trying to regain her composure, “Um, yes, I wanted to tell you about…”
How can you expect them to believe you? After all you’ve gone through…can’t you see them now, dumping you in some hospital somewhere. “Oh it was tragic what she went through but there’s nothing we can do now.” Soon they won’t even remember you.
She couldn’t help letting out a small whimper. The voices were right. They’d never believe her. They’d think the trauma had got to her. She looked up at Dylan.
“Beka, are you sure you’re ok? Maybe you should go to med bay…”
“No,” she cried, “no, I’m fine. I just wanted to say that uh…uh, I hope you’ll let me get back on duty soon.” He frowned at her, probably wondering why this information was so urgent.
“Well,” he said and she could almost see his diplomatic mind working overtime, “you know I’d love you to come back, but I thought, for your sake, it would be better if you had some more time off. I mean, you went through a lot…”
“That’s ok Dylan,” she broke him off, “I’d really…prefer not to talk about it.” He nodded hesistantly.
“And…you haven’t thought any more of what I said about counselling?” he asked carefully.
“No, I’m fine, really. Like you said, some time off will sort things out. So, see you later, bye!” She rushed off before he, or the voices, could say anything else.
****
She rushed back into the Maru and threw herself on the bed, sobbing uncontrollably.
No point feeling sorry for yourself, you deserve everything you get.
She sniffled. Maybe the voices were right. Whoever was doing this to her was probably sent to punish her for all the bad things she’d done. Maybe she did deserve all these things. Still, she wished it would just go away. Hadn’t she suffered enough?
You can’t ever suffer enough.
She quickly reached for the bottle on the bedside table that kept the sleeping pills she’d stolen from Trance. Quickly swallowing three or four, she crawled into the bed, praying for the only respite that would keep the voices – and hopefully nightmares – away.
She wasn’t even surprised when she woke up in a bed with bloodstains from fresh gashes on her other arm.
