Chapter Text
(pre-episode 1)
The beat of the music is reverberating through her body, making her skin crawl and her bones rattle inside her. Normally, she wouldn't stand listening to that loud music...like ever. But Betty slid her some shots - lovely colours they had - and they tasted a lot better than she had thought they would. But her head is now buzzing and she can't tell if it's because of the music or the alcohol. She lost Betty in the sea of people several minutes ago and trying to find her has proven only futile. There are probably two hundred students at this party and, what the hell? Is no one taking their studies seriously at this university but her? Oh wait...
Well, okay. This is just one time. It's not like she's a party animal or anything. She's the example of a committed student; just not right now. Right now, she's trying to find a way out of this human quicksand - the bodies of drunken dancing Silas students bumping into her, dragging her in rendering all of her efforts at escape fruitless. She just wants out of there. Betty is nowhere to be found - typical of her, really. She's the kind of girl who always knows where the party's at, the one that everyone knows and loves and Laura couldn't be happier to have her as a roommate. They're the exact opposites, but it works.
Someone tries to get her to dance with him. He's tall like a tree and she's only 5''2' - it's easy to lose him. Hell, if she wasn't afraid of getting stomped to death, she could even slide under his legs and disappear into the sea of flesh. Instead, she smiles politely and declines his offer. She moves to leave, but he blocks her way and with a smile on his face, he asks again - this time adding that he's a good dancer, as if that would convince her. But Laura just wants out of there and into the safety and familiarity of her room.
"I'm sure you are, but I'm neither a good dancer nor in the mood, but thanks again!" she yells trying to mask the music. He shakes his head and grabs her arm. "C'mon, babe...don't be like that!" he tells her and drags her closer to him.
Okay, Laura is officially done with this not-so-much-of-a gentleman. She tried to be polite, but she guesses that an excessive intake of alcohol and an extreme case of egomania can make a person not understand that "no" means "no".
"I told you, I don't want to!" Laura tries gritting her teeth, not having any of this guy any more. She pulls her arm, but his hand is firm around her wrist, and honestly, it hurts a bit.
It's moments like this, that people think at a speed of a million light years per second. It's like when you have this moment of absolute clarity and everything around you slows down. Laura is having a moment like that and her mind takes her back to a few years back in just an instant; back when she started attending High school, and her Dad sat her down and gave a lengthy speech about protection. Not that kind of protection, but real life protection like how to use bear spray, or call 911 without hesitation if threatened, or even how to disarm an attacking man. Laura was confident that crashing this guy's larynx was not an option - let alone the fact that she never really got to practise it again except for a few times when her Dad had brought back a mannequin he had found by the side of the street. Laura had all but burned the thing in an effort to disinfect it before practising any moves on it. Gary McPlastic had taught her that she could use her height to her advantage, but that was a long time ago and Laura couldn't remember the exact moves. So she thought of the next best thing and her Dad's most valuable safety lesson. "If someone corners you, yell 'FIRE' at the top of your lungs! Not 'rape', but 'fire'. You understand?"
Laura had wondered why she should be untruthful in a dire and dangerous situation like this but it was a few years later that she found the answer to that question. Posture ready, taking a deep breath, oxygen filling her diaphragm, her eyes firey and determined, she opened her mouth and "Fff...-"
Hey, where did that guy go?
She sees a flash of black and she swears she heard a cry. Okay, what is happening right now? Somewhere between the brain-busting beat of the music and the students' screams of joy, she hears someone cry for help and that his arm is broken, and holy shizballs if it isn't Mister Can'tkeepmyhandstomyself crying actual tears of pain, trying desperately to get away from the dancefloor - and aren't we all?
Laura's mouth hangs open both in astonishment and wonder, because how the hell did this happen? Did she do it with her mind? Have all these hours she spent concentrating on moving the pencil finally paid off? But her powers wouldn't come all at once. She wouldn't be able to do something like that when the only way she could ever move a pencil without touching it was by exasperatingly blowing air on it. So how did this happen? She stands there, mouth agape, and forgets the dancing people around her. But they don't forget about her. They keep bumping into her again and, seriously, she knows she's short but what the hell? She's not invisible!
Some girl with killer moves whips her hair and Laura stands back, only to get pushed by a muscular and way too sweaty guy wearing a unicorn hat, eventually losing her balance and falling to the floor. To the sticky, dirty, infested with 5 million different kinds of microbes floor and Jesus, Mary and Joseph she can't get back to her room fast enough. Just as she's about to get up, a set of strong hands picks her up from behind.
Well, that's nice of him.
"Are you entirely incompetent? Idiot!" she hears the raspy but feminine voice.
Or her.
She turns around but the girl does so as well, and clearing the people in front of her like they're corn and her glare is the machete, she pulls Laura with her and away from the dancefloor. Laura, taking in a deep breath, feeling now safe and not as crowded, tugs on the girl's hand.
"Hey, thank y-" she tries, but the girl releases her grip and leaves - more like vanishes - and all Laura got to see was dark wavy locks. She will never get to express her gratitude to that girl.
Oh, well.
She heads to her room. No sign of Betty still. That's okay though; she knows how she is. She'll probably turn up in the late afternoon with her sunglasses still on, or she'll sneak in while Laura's sleeping and crush on her bed. It happens like five times a week. Laura drags her buzzing body in bed and revels in the warmth the covers provide. She briefly thinks about the mystery girl that she didn't get to thank and goes on to mentally make a grocery list. And then she's unconscious.
Betty doesn't come back that night.