Deal With It

The Nightmares and The Eyes

Second degree burns on my shoulder blades, split lip, black eye, and there's a hole in my thigh... and my left shoulder, how the hell did they get there?
I can feel eyes watching me and I know its Riddick, his musk filling my nostrils. He's watching me through those black googles. I hear a chuckle, "Wakey, Wakey," his deep voice mocks. I groan silently as I turn from my stomach onto my side facing him (I'm pretty sure anyway). He chuckles more, that mother fucker is laughing at me, but it doesn't matter my minds fading. I know I'm awake but I can't open my eyes, I'm still weak, dehydrated. "Water," I manage to choke, but it was useless, I fell unconscious within seconds of speaking.

"This man will take care of you, ok honey," she says. I can't remember who this woman is. "Ok," I hear someone else say; a little girl. I can see her properly now; one neat braid in her hair, little freckles on her nose but what grabs my attention is her eyes. Pitch black, a white and red glare through them reflecting everything she sees.
It's me, she's me, that's me.
"Good-bye," the woman says to me before turning and running towards a small ship, I just watch her no sentiment on my face.
As the ship fly's away I feel a strong hand wrap around my upper arm. I turn to see the man smiling down at me; greed, lust and anger in his eyes. His hair is short and black, his eyes a bright blue. His nose is a little crooked but otherwise his face is flawless. I feel scared and my heart skips a beat; everything goes black.
I get snippets, the memories replaying so fast through my mind.
1 hit, 2 hit, 3 hit.
1 thrust, 2 thrust, 3 thrust.
I was only ten, how could he do this?
My blood pumps through my body and I can feel the anger boiling with it. My head starts to ache and my mind spins, and everything stops, like a scene where everything turns into slow motion. I feel some sort of energy flow through me; I can feel everything, see everything, hear everything. It flows through me then out sending the man flying off me and into the wall on the other side of the room.

My eyes snap open as I grasp the adrenalin from the memory, shit. I have to be careful, I have to breathe.
The first thing I see are eyes, Riddick's eyes; he's no longer wearing his goggles. His eyes, they're beautiful, black, with what looks like a white cloud shining within a stormy sky. I can't stop staring, damn.
I sit up quickly, the adrenalin coursing through my veins. I breathe in and out as I notice Riddick is sitting on top of me, his hands around my wrists. I breathe faster as memories force their way to the front of my mind. "Nice eyes." I hear Riddick say, a small smirk on his face. I know what he's seeing and I begin to shake. "Breathe," is all he says, his voice is deep and soothing. We sit like that for a few moments as my breathing evens out. I look around, we're in a ship. I look around a bit more and see a mirror. I look back at Riddick sternly; "Get off," I say, demanding and strong. He doesn't smile at this, just releases his grip on my wrists, and moves off me to sit on the end of the first-aid bed.
I stand and feel a sharp pain shoot up my leg, I've had worse, I walk (more like limp) over to the mirror.
I'm still covered in blood and dirt. My wounds though are bandaged tight and have been well taken care of. My hair, a little shorter than shoulder length and light brown, has been tired back into a very messy bun. I have cuts and bruises all over my face. I could go on, but I'll sum it up; I look like crap.
I stare at my matted body until I hear a quiet and deep chuckle and remember where I am.
I look up and into my own eyes. They're not hazel anymore, no; they're pitch black, a faint but bright red mist circling through them. The last time I saw these eyes was about a week ago, I killed fifteen men within five seconds. My body shivered at the thought. I've killed people before sure, but the way I do things when my eyes change, it's unnatural and it scares me. I breathe slowly to keep the fear under control and then open my eyes again, thank god, they're back to normal.

I hear Riddick breathe in and realize he has stood up and is now standing very close behind me, "Been a long time since I smelt beautiful," he whispers. I growl, I'll tell you now, every man who has flirted with me has died. Riddick growls back and I challenge him without a second thought by growling again. He smiles, "Pretty ballsy, for a woman," he says, I growl again anger boiling through me. "Anyone ever told you how sexist you are?" I ask rhetorically, walking back to sit on the bed.

"Only you," he says watching me sit, that smirk still plastered on his face. I glare at him, but it doesn't do anything to take that smirk off his face. I reach my hand up to my left shoulder and as I go to touch the bandages Riddick speaks, "I wouldn't touch them just yet. You got yourself badly burnt," I look at him sideways. What the hell does he know about getting burnt, this is bloody nothing.
I look back at my bandages and place my hand gently on top of them. I get a small sting across my back but that's about it. I slowly start to un-wrap the bandage to see what damage has been done.
I can feel Riddick watching me confused; guess he expected me to pass out from the pain or something.
"If you can stand the pain of two second degree burns and fight three men whilst struggling to stand, throw a knife perfectly with a blistering shoulder and then kill a another guy with your bare hands with not only the burns but two bullet wounds; what in the world would make you scared shitless like you were when you woke up just now?" he asks, catching me off guard.
I stop unwrapping the bandage and look at him, no more smirk; he's asking a serious question. I think for a moment, "I don't know you well enough to answer that," I simply say continuing with the bandages. This guy may have saved my life, (I honestly can't remember if he did or not), but it doesn't mean I can trust him; he's Richard. B. Riddick, he's dangerous, but I'm worse.
"Yet," he says before exiting the room. I'm left there with my wounds and my thoughts.
He's not scared of me, he's not threatened by me, I don't think he even knows who I am. I have never met a person who hasn't known who I am, it's nice to not have expectations put on you straight away. But if this Riddick does know who I am, then why the act?