Laura Palmer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
already_lost) wrote2021-06-28 04:00 pm
already_lost) wrote2021-06-28 04:00 pm
For Marianne
That night, Laura dreamed about BOB.
It was only a dream. He wasn't there, wasn't walking through her mind, through her body, visiting her when no one could protect her. Touching her where no one could save her. It was only a dream. BOB was dead, or at least, long gone. Still, it was the BOB her mind conjured up, just as grotesque, just as vile, just as dangerous, but the worst part was, she was sure this time that he was just her. Her fucked up thoughts. Her fucked up fantasies. He wanted to kill her. To fuck her. To have her, and just like always, she wanted him to.
It in the beginning, he was Chuck, touching her carefully, reverently, but when his kisses became rough, when his touch became bruising, she knew he wasn't really him. He was Him. Capital letters, Oh God, am I ever going to get away from this devil?
She woke up with a hand working between her thighs, frantic and clutching the sheets. It was the first time in a long time, and she came with a prolonged, sobbing scream. Thank God she didn't have any roommates.
Half an hour later, her hair was wet from a scalding shower. She was restless, and she knew that this was a bad time. A dark time. A bad Laura night. Dead girl walking. Still, she slipped out of the apartment in ragged jean shorts and an oversized t-shirt. No panties. No bra. She walked through empty streets, imagining all the monsters hiding in the shadows, and fantasized about what they might do to her.
In Twin Peaks, she might've gone to Bobby. He'd let her snort candy up her nose, he'd fumble with her clothes on the couch in his parent's basement. He'd cry a little when she rolled him under her and fucked herself on his cock, hard and impatient. In Twin Peaks, maybe she would've gone to Donna, guilty about the thoughts she had about her sweet, innocent friend. All the ways she wanted to corrupt her. Maybe she would've gone to Harold, because he worshiped her, and she wanted a little worship. Or Leo, because he was vile and awful, but fucked her like no one but BOB ever had.
In Darrow, she found herself outside Marianne's door. The apartment building was eerily quiet. It was barely four AM. She didn't know what she wanted. If she wanted a sympathetic ear, or something else. Could she ask for something else?
She didn't know, but she knocked anyway.
It was only a dream. He wasn't there, wasn't walking through her mind, through her body, visiting her when no one could protect her. Touching her where no one could save her. It was only a dream. BOB was dead, or at least, long gone. Still, it was the BOB her mind conjured up, just as grotesque, just as vile, just as dangerous, but the worst part was, she was sure this time that he was just her. Her fucked up thoughts. Her fucked up fantasies. He wanted to kill her. To fuck her. To have her, and just like always, she wanted him to.
It in the beginning, he was Chuck, touching her carefully, reverently, but when his kisses became rough, when his touch became bruising, she knew he wasn't really him. He was Him. Capital letters, Oh God, am I ever going to get away from this devil?
She woke up with a hand working between her thighs, frantic and clutching the sheets. It was the first time in a long time, and she came with a prolonged, sobbing scream. Thank God she didn't have any roommates.
Half an hour later, her hair was wet from a scalding shower. She was restless, and she knew that this was a bad time. A dark time. A bad Laura night. Dead girl walking. Still, she slipped out of the apartment in ragged jean shorts and an oversized t-shirt. No panties. No bra. She walked through empty streets, imagining all the monsters hiding in the shadows, and fantasized about what they might do to her.
In Twin Peaks, she might've gone to Bobby. He'd let her snort candy up her nose, he'd fumble with her clothes on the couch in his parent's basement. He'd cry a little when she rolled him under her and fucked herself on his cock, hard and impatient. In Twin Peaks, maybe she would've gone to Donna, guilty about the thoughts she had about her sweet, innocent friend. All the ways she wanted to corrupt her. Maybe she would've gone to Harold, because he worshiped her, and she wanted a little worship. Or Leo, because he was vile and awful, but fucked her like no one but BOB ever had.
In Darrow, she found herself outside Marianne's door. The apartment building was eerily quiet. It was barely four AM. She didn't know what she wanted. If she wanted a sympathetic ear, or something else. Could she ask for something else?
She didn't know, but she knocked anyway.
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"Laura?" She says, frowning. "Are you okay? What...what time is it?"
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She glanced back over her shoulder, feeling watched. Of course, there was no one there.
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"Oh, shit. Of course," says Marianne, turning to the side, shutting the door slightly so that she can unhook the chain and open the door, letting her friend into the apartment. If another of her friends had turned up in the middle of the night, she might have felt self-concious opening the door with all of this skin on show, but she figures Laura won't care.
"What happened? Do you want tea or something?"
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She laughed humorlessly, pushing her hair away from her face. "On second thought, tea would be great."
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"I've got stronger if that's actually want you want," says Marianne, rubbing sleep out of her eyes and pushing back her tangled hair. "I've got some decent whiskey. Or beers. Or I can actually put the kettle on." Laura's been in her apartment enough to know the layout, so Marianne turns and walks away from her, down the corridor towards her kitchen.
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"Shit. Sorry. I didn't even think." Marianne grabs the kettle and fills it and then sets it to boil. She leans back against the counter, watching the way her friend chafes the bare skin of her arms. "Are you cold? I can grab you, like, a blanket or a cardigan or something?"
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She paused, looking past Marianne into the darkened hallway leading to her bedroom.
"My apartment just seems so big at night, you know? Like it might swallow me up."
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"Don't be silly," says Marianne, her smile faint but warm as she looks at her friend. "You can always come here. You can stay tonight if you want?"
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"Sure, my bed's big enough for two," she says. "And there's the air-conditioning unit in there, too. She finishes pulling the teas together, not even having to ask how Laura takes it. "Come on. We'll get comfy."
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Besides, it had been too long since she'd slept beside someone else. The few guys she'd gone home with lately, she didn't stay with long enough for anything but sex.
Inside Marianne's bedroom, Laura toed off he sneakers. Despite wearing nothing underneath them, she wiggled out of her shorts after only a brief hesitation. Her t-shirt went down almost to her knees anyway.
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Walking back into her bedroom, Marianne sets Laura's tea down on the side of the bed that hasn't been slept on and then walks around to her own side. She gets back onto the mattress, tugging the duvet up over her knees and picks up her tea. "You can stay as long as you like," she says, stifling a yawn. "I don't have anything I've got to do tomorrow."