She looked so young, like this. Her face was almost angelic now that there was no snarling, no biting. Catherine called them animals. They weren't fucking animals. They weren't human either. They were more intelligent. And they had those powers... The most human thing about them was their instinct for survival. For a moment, a deep sadness washed over him. This one looked so much like that other one, the one who had died in his arms. She'd let him hold her while she gasped at her last breaths and bled on his clothes. And he'd felt her struggle to bring him closer. The feel of her fingers at his neck, as her hands remained clasped in her lap, together as in prayer. But these were not strangling fingers. They had pulled him closer and she had kissed him. And he had been suspended for a month, and Catherine had given him grief for a long time. Even now, he didn't think she had forgiven him. She certainly hadn't forgotten. She gave him that look sometimes that said she had the upper hand, that he would always be incompetent and easy to manipulate. But she hadn't been there. She had never felt death so close. For the second time in twelve years, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, he could walk away, just let her go.
He went to the glass again and took a long hard look. She was still prone... but, but were her eyelids twitching? He put his hand to his face. (Or he blinked.) Had she opened her eyes just a crack? He turned to pick up the phone.
He'd just hit the speaker button when Catherine tore into the room. She looked disheveled; her hair off, her dress rumpled, her lab coat falling open. Her eyes burned. Rathburn was right behind her. The look on Rathburn's face told him everything he needed to know. It could have been anyone, anyone but that malignant little cocksucker.
(so I think the girl is awake and he's going to neglect to mention that to Catherine and Rathburn - or at least that's what I'm thinking...)
Rathburn was staring at the girl. He was breathing heavily and his blue shirt was ringed dark beneath the arm pits.
"She's dead." He (our man) said.
"Did you check?" asked Catherine.
He (what's he called anyway?) hesitated. "Didn't you see me?"
"Didn't anyone tell you?" Rathburn said. He looked smug. He always looked smug. "The monitors are out, some kind of power failure. I guess someone forgot to pay the bill again."
Rathburn took out (a key? Some weird kind of opening device for getting into the glass cell? Heh, fuck, I don't know) and took a step towards the cell.
"Well we might as well take her to the lab and see how she works."
"No," he stepped forward and put his body between Rathbone and the girl. For that one moment, with his back pressed against the glass, he felt a stirring inside, as though he could actually feel her waken. This power she had, to make him feel, it was quite overwhelming. He stepped aside. Catherine was looking at him, horrified. Rathburn unlocked the door and it slid open without a sound.
("The monitors are down - some sort of glitch. The techs are working on it.")
He (nameless scientist who really needs a name) watched Catherine as Rathburn fumbled with the release mechanism. She ignored him and focused her attention on the back of Rathburn's head. It hurt to look at her. (needs more here, I think, feel free to add.)
Rathburn entered the cell and poked and prodded the girl. Rathburn turned to say something to Catherine. ________ watched impassively as the spines flared between the girl's fingers and she clasped her hands around Rathburn's neck. __________ could almost feel the venom moving from the glands in her wrists, down her palms, and through the translucent points buried in Rathburn's neck.
Catherine took a step forward and...
Catherine took a step forward and stopped. She was staring at a blank spot on the wall, to the left of Rathburn's discarded flesh. No, she wasn't staring at the wall, she was looking at the girl as though unable to take her eyes away. X (our fella) watched as Catherine started making choking noises. Her hands went up to her throat, her fingers splayed, her nails scratched at her neck, puncturing the skin. She fell to her knees, her eyes locked with the girl's the whole time. The girl looked intense, concentration hardening her features into marble. She didn't move for the two mintues it took Catherine to die. Only as she let out her last rattling breath and slumped forward onto the floor did the girl look away from the woman and turn to X.
(I know it sounds like the girl slumps onto the floor and then looks at X. I need to work on that. Give the girl a name or find some other description for her other than 'the girl'!)
He looked at Catherine's blood pooling at his feet. (How deep did she cut herself? How long are her nails?)
He watched Catherine fall. He watched her blood pool at his feet. It was black and flecked with gold. He hadn't lifted a finger to help her. He didn't know what to make of this. He looked at the girl. He could see Catherine's face, pallid and blotchy (wait, does this make sense?), reflected in those eyes. The girl hadn't made any effort to leave the cell. He didn't know what to make of this either. He considered making a move for the locking mechanism but decided to throw a chair at the wall instead
or
He watched Catherine claw and tear at her throat, her long nails digging deep. He watched her fall to her knees. He watched her slump to the ground, whisps of hair falling over her face (like a shroud, like a mantilla?). He watched her blood pool at his feet.
It was black (blueblack?) and flecked with gold. (or silver?). (They'd been together twelve years and) He hadn't lifted a finger to help her. He didn't know what to make of any of this.
The girl hadn't made any attempt to leave the cell. He didn't know what to make of this either. He could see Catherine's face (more detail?) reflected in the girl's eyes.
(He sat on the floor and put his head in his hands) [Or maybe not.]