HELLO MELODRAMA ~dexter.

[REMY LUCIANNE CLARK]

I DREAM OF FALLING
BECAUSE I LONG TO BE CAUGHT
pour toi, Dexter Willow

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The morning was perfect. Sunlight danced on the sidewalk as the crisp yellowing light shone through the trees above her. She stood, stock still, staring upwards – caught as she often was in her own mismatched thoughts. Her school bag held lightly in dainty hands, light enough to swing gently in the cool breeze. The back of the girl’s dorm block was oddly atmospheric in spring, and it had been enough to capture Remy’s highly active imagination – it was a good think that Dexter was meeting her here before lessons, because without interference she might well never have pulled herself away to her lectures. The only sound to be heard was the gentle lilting birdsong, and – oddly, in fact – the engine hum of a nearby car. Remy scowled at the sound as it interrupted her pensive silence, dropping her bag and turning in the direction of the noise. And suddenly her eyes widened in surprise – because there wasn’t even a road here, and all of a sudden the little van was bearing down on her. The surprise faded quickly. This was, after all, a university – and students would do anything. Driving a van on the footpaths was hardly the worst thing UNO students had done. And so, she side-stepped out of the vehicle’s path. But it didn’t work. The van changed course, and Remy only just had time to shout in protest before she was flung sideways. The pain was sudden, washing over her like a tidal wave – starting in her chest and blossoming out. She crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath like a goldfish out of the water. She felt a detached sense of disbelief, and the pain which had been momentarily so vivid quickly became distant as her lithe frame became somehow… dumb. As if her mind were suddenly entirely detached from her body.

Her mind was running at speed, and despite what had happened so suddenly in her cheerful little world she was working things out very quickly. This hadn’t been an accident – the driver had moved to hit her, for goodness sake! And that meant that to be near this man was a danger to her. She got up. She tried to get up. She pushed herself upright and her body just didn’t listen to her commands. She slumped back to the ground, aware of a dim, distant agony. Walking wouldn’t work, and so she crawled. But it seemed even this was too much for her crushed little frame, and shaking arms gave out as there was the out-of-focus sound of a car door opening. She tried desperately to pull herself further away, but her body wouldn’t shift at all. It was like she had turned to lead without her own awareness. There was the crunch of heavy boots on gravel, and soon the think rubber soles stepped into her line of sight. And filled with sudden, stricken, and rational fear, the girl choked out a desperate sob. The shadowy face bore down on her, and she whispered her hopeless please – begging him to leave her alone. But the knife sliced through her like butter – and the distant pain came flooding back. She screamed, piercing, shattering, agonized screams. She struggled, fear moving her dead limbs more than rational ever could. She swore, she cursed, and she tried between tears to push him away – but blood and fatigue and hopelessness wore on, and she sagged beneath his blows, giving in. This war was lost. Hazel eyes fluttered closed, and she lay still but for the tremors of agony as she took this man’s beating in silent terror.

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[DEXTER NELSON WILLOW]

The day outside was much nicer in a cramped, messy dorm, that was for sure. Dexter had since given up cleaning most of it. Instead, he just ate, threw on some clothes and went outside. The birds were chirping, the sun was shining, what more could he ask for? His back wasn't even hurting! Considering his sleeping arrangements, this was cause for celebration indeed. He didn't hit his head leaving the dorm rooms, or anything. All signs pointed to a good day, and a good walk in the morning before classes. He was a bit early for his meeting with Remy, so he decided on taking the long way, around the boys dorms building instead of behind it, and making his way fro the girls dorm from there. In spite of the some vandal running around campus, it couldn't be much better. He wove through some of the trees, seeing a flash of yellow between them, and the sound of a vehicle. Weird...but then again, some still-drunk-from-last-night-somehow guy could do those things. People did stupid things around here. No big deal. It was gone almost as soon as Dexter spotted it. He went on his way, not having the slightest idea what he'd just seen would mean.

He went on walking, glancing down at his watch. He sped up, long strides covering even more ground. He was glad enough for this, since it meant he rarely had to run to cover distances quickly. A brisk walk did the trick usually...until he hard someone scream. Distinctly female, and around the back of the girls dorms...woah, wait. That's where he was supposed to be meeting Remy. Knowing her, she'd gone and tripped and shrieked or something. Clumsiness was her - and, for that matter, his - middle name. She he walked faster. The closer he got the more noise he heard and it didn't make sense. The sound of a car idling, cursing and shouting and now he was worried. Dexter jogged the last corner, stopping dead at what he saw. That yellow car as back, and it's front was not in great shape. Furthermore, someone was crouched over someone that looked a lot like Remy, and someone was being attacked. It was a bit much to process, but Dexter needed to do something. Fast. He could see blood. Too much of it.

Time to bluff. Dexter couldn't actually fight, but when you were seven foot seven, bluffing had a habit of working. "Over here!" Oh, jeeze, that just sounded dumb. "Pick on someone smaller, and it'll come back to you. In your case, quite quickly. Back off!" Okay, so that sounded somewhat better. Dexter advanced closer, seeing the flash of a knife. Oh shit. Typical. Just try and look tough, just try and look tough...for Pete...actually, Remy's, sake! Police said not to try and play the hero but this was not a time to follow that advice, so Dexter ran at the man, hoping his only defense would pay off in offence.

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[REMY LUCIANNE CLARK]

I DREAM OF FALLING
BECAUSE I LONG TO BE CAUGHT
pour toi, Dexter Willow

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Dull, monotonous, grinding, flashing pain. Screaming, breaking, darkening pain. No break, no rest, no opportunity of escape. Remy almost felt like laughing at this insane turn of events – this was fairy-tale drama (of the Grimm’s variety, but fairy-tale none the less), not something which would happen in the real world. But it was happening – and most-ways, it was far from funny. But the endless rhythm of stabbing pain was suddenly and abruptly ended – though it took the half-conscious girl a while to notice. Her whole body was throbbing with a sort of agony she had never before experienced – additional wounds could no longer add to a burden of pain well above her breaking point. The sounds were muffled, but she could hear them – eyes opening to take in a grey, out-of-focus world. It hardly seemed real any more – as if this were happening to someone else. As if it were a bad dream. The pain was so intense that it couldn’t get worse, and so the weak attempt to push herself up and see what on earth was happening didn’t cause any additional pain. She kept herself upright long enough to see the blurry figure of her attacker striding away, and to see Dexter – God! Dexter?! Big, lumbering Dexter. Of course he was here. He was always where he needed to be. Trembling arms gave out and she crumpled once more – but with at least a shred of hope. She should have been willing Dexter to run away, but she thought of the older boy as her knight in shining armour – he could defeat anything, Remy was sure of it. She shook, greatm agonised tremors racking her lithe frame – and cough harshly. Blood flecked her lips – but she was past caring.

Mr. Madness had hardly been expecting the distraction. His attention had been caught entirely on the girl – the way her blood was spilt through the air. The pattern of red on her pale grey dress. It was beautiful, in a way, as he licked a misplaced drip of the sticky red from his chin. His face stung, where long red welts had formed under the child’s wild attempts to get free – and he had to give her some kudos for that. She had fought back startlingly well for someone who had been unfortunately run over mere moments before. But she had given up now, and he found it almost arousing to have a creature so totally under his control. He would have killed her. Slowly, but he would have done it. But the deep, booming voice cut through his pleasant thoughts. He spun, to find the witness. Eyes widened, nostrils flared – Mr. Madness raised his knife and set his mind on two dead bodies rather than one. But as the boy stepped closer, and threatened, self preservation kicked in. A giant of his size would be more trouble than he was worth. Thought which were far from sane veered down another route, and with a chilling smile, Madness turned and ran. Back into the van, back through the grounds – cutting a road through the foliage wherever he chose.

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[DEXTER NELSON WILLOW]

Whatever concepts of a good day Dexter had were now gone. The day had taken a terrible, terrible turn. He had gone from having a perfect day to about to attack a madman with a knife, while no idea how to go about doing this, while Remy was occupied with bleeding to death on the ground. That about summed up the situation. Dexter saw him taste some of the blood and felt angry. Really angry. This guy had no right to do anything to anyone, and the normally cool-tempered Dexter found that in the back of his brain, he wanted to fight. Thankfully, common sense still had some domination over the 'let's go kill someone' part of things. He met the eyes of that madman when he looked up, and tried to look as menacing as humanly possible. Or Dexterly possible. Which ever it was. The look in that freak's eyes was all too...crazy. Mad. Driven by something that Dexter didn't want to know about, but had the most bizarre inclination that, if circumstances weren't so dire, he might have taken a photograph of. That was what taking pictures were about, capturing some sort of essence. Why the hell am I thinking about that?! Remy might just have been killed and now I'm thinking about a lecture?! Dexter scolded internally. He charged and off Mr. Madness went. Dexter kept running and ended up on his knees in bloodstained grass.

"Remy?" Dexter asked, looking down at his friend. The whole situation tugged at his heartstrings. "Earth to Remy...c'mon..." He told her, taking off his hoodie and using it as a makeshift bandage. It blanketed her, given the size difference, which was good. He tried not to press down too hard, but at the same time, stop the bleeding. The blood on her lips told him something was wrong inside...pressing down too much might deflate a lung or God-only-knew-what, he wasn't a doctor! "Oh God, Remy..." He looked up briefly, then shouted for help. For once, he was glad his voice was as deep as it was. It would carry. He looked back down and brushed some of the blood off her cheek. "This makes that cooking class seem quite safe, doesn't it?" He asked with a shaky smile. He didn't know if it worked, but maybe giving her something to think about or talking to her or something would keep her conscious, since he figured that if she could do that she'd make it out alive.

Yep. So much for a good day.