Layla

Chapter Twenty-Eight: There's A Hole In My Soul

There had been so much that happened to her at Stryker's prison-or R.A.F.T.-as the facility was appropriately called. After what she had been through, she didn't give a damn what the name was. To her it was hell and always would be. Stryker and his men had performed horrific experiments on her that both physically and mentally hurt her. That man couldn't have a heart or soul. If he wasn't hurting her then he stood lurking in the shadows as he watched his men do what they were told. That cold, cruel smile always lifted one side of his lips showcasing his white teeth that seemed to gleam in the darkness. Layla squeezed her eyes shut hoping to rid herself of the image, but doing so made things worse as the image vividly reappeared. 

Lifting her heavy and weary head, she slammed her palm against the rough tile walling in the shower. Water splashed in every direction, one droplet managing to fall on her cheek, while pain buzzed throughout her palm. Instead of moving her hand, she kept it on the cold glass while watching the water spiral into the drain below her. Earlier, the ivory shower tiles and silver drain underneath her feet had been covered in blood and dirt as the hot water washed away the filth that coated her body. The shower knob had been and still was pulled back to the end of the thin red line, but what was once steaming hot water was now luke warm. The hot water may had burned and reddened her already sensitive skin, but she did not care. In fact, she had not felt it. She felt completely numb and empty after everything.

Lowering her hand, Layla leaned back against the cool shower tiles, closing her eyes as her mind ceased to quiet down. It was ironic really because even though her body was numb, weak, and tired, her mind was awake and racing. She was still having a difficult time believing that she was  back at Xavier's mansion; back at the school. She was so afraid it was all a hallucination; one of Stryker's tricks that he had performed on her. Gawd, the mind tricks he played on her. And he did it all with a mutant who had telepathic powers. Almost every day she had relived her worst nightmare just like she did after she lost her parents. She still dreamt of that day but not as often, and just when she was slowly getting those dreams to stop, he just ignited them all over again.

So much had happened. 

Peter was the only who knew. 

Once she managed to calm her nerves, she told Peter everything that happened to her. Her hands shook slightly as she recalled things that had happened and her voice shook, but she needed to get it off her chest. She needed to talk to somebody; to tell somebody. Lowering her head into her pruned hands, she thought about the conversation she and Peter had earlier. 

She had paced back and forth around Peter's room then stopped briefly, staring out the window before resuming back to pacing. She had bit down gently on her nails only to pull away sharply as she had tasted dried blood. She glanced down briefly spotting the dried blood that was caked under her nails and reminded herself to shower as she lowered her hand back down. With a short but heavy sigh, she frustratingly rubbed her hands over her face, tucking loose strands of her oily, brown hair behind her ears before finally sitting down on the window seat.

She hadn't been sure where to begin and had not known how to quite explain her slight change in...temperament when seeing Stryker. Thinking about it still worried her; scared her. And deep down, she was angry at him, and wanted him to suffer. She shook her head, resting her forehead against the palm of her hands while staring at the pine flooring. When she closed her eyes, she had pondered her next words carefully before speaking.

Meanwhile, Peter had remained on the other side of the room waiting as patiently as he could. His gaze never wavered from Layla, and his eyes traced what bruises and scars were visible on her body. From this distance, she looked small and fragile and all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms; comfort her. Because of this, he found himself tapping his foot lightly against the wood flooring, or repeatedly crossing his ankles over each other. Letting out a small inaudible sigh, he leaned back against the wall, tilting his head to the side as he recalled seeing Layla imprisoned. The sight had nearly broke him, and it awakened the anger that had been prowling inside him since she was taken from him. He wanted to punch Xander and destroy the facility and then perhaps punch Xander again. After all, he was incredibly fast and could make time to do so.