Faking It • Queen FanFiction

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 37

꧁ Aᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's Nᴏᴛᴇ: ꧂
𝐻𝑖, 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑢𝑙𝑡, 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑜𝑛 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑡 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 - 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑚𝑒!

Only six more days and Bernie would be back on the field doing her practical exam. Doing the same as she was when she fell and broke her ankle. But this time with fool-proof equipment. She was also fairly sure that the case regarding the sand bags and Tiffany had been dropped, as she hadn't heard a single word. Tiffany was also now a fully qualified officer working in the K9 unit, the last Bernie had heard. This struck her as unfair beings as Tiffany had openly admitted to sabotaging Bernie with a witness and yet she wasn't facing any prosecution.

Four days later, Bernie was getting ready for college, her exam only two days away, when, once again, Holden rapped at the door. By now she'd memorised his knock and the familiar feeling of impending doom bloomed in her stomach. My god, she thought, what does he want now? She contemplated not opening the door at all, but she knew he both a) had a key and b) wouldn't hesitate to break a hole in the door by this point. So for her own safety, she decided to answer the door as she always did and greet him as a usual guest, as she always did.

"Hello Princess. I've got nothing to do today so was wondering if you fancied a shag."

"What the flying fuck is wrong with you," Bernie demanded moreso than asked. Without further preparation, she grabbed her shoes from the small rack beside the door and just walked straight past Holden in only her socks; keys in hand. He had every power to blatantly follow her, but he didn't: instead he grabbed her arm and tugged her towards him forcefully, giving her a look of livid desperation before slamming his lips onto hers, shoving his foul tasting tongue uninvited into her mouth and putting his hand to her breast, squeezing it to the point of unimaginable pain. Her uniform was too secure for him to be able to slip his hand into any loose piece of clothing and access her bare skin, despite his best efforts.

Trying to fight him off by slapping his head and kicking his ankles, Holden grabbed Bernie's wrists with his free hand and held them tightly behind her, bringing red marks to her skin. Her kicks were fruitless as she didn't have her steel toed boots to inflict any pain upon him, his mouth sloppily attacking hers; stopping her from being able to call for help in the desolate corridor. He tried to guide her into his flat, but only made it to the door as she seized the opportunity to bite down as hard as she could on his rough tongue as an absolute last resort. The taste of blood brushed her own tongue and she spat it out urgently on the floor, feeling like she needed to hose down her entire mouth and using his loosened grip on her wrists to twist them, breaking free of his hold whilst he was momentarily distracted. Before she could flee, Holden swung his arm round and his hand came in contact with her left cheek, emitting an almighty sound that Bernie was sure could be heard from Scotland and sending her off balance momentarily.

Without hesitation, she caned it down the stairs with all her might, taking at least two stairs at a time and nursing her stinging cheek, picking up her boots just in time, aware of how vile it was that she'd just had somebody's blood - Holden's blood - in her mouth.

Outside, the summer breeze tried to break her low bun free, but Bernie had been training for too long to make a bun so vulnerable to being beaten up by the weather. Bending down to sit on the curb, she pulled her boots onto her feet and tied the laces mechanically, too shocked to feel any emotion whatsoever. There were no feelings inside her head, least of all her heart, she was just numb. So traumatised that there was nothing left to feel, except the strong tug of the desperation for escape. The control he had over her was innumerable and there was nothing she could do about it that didn't involve moving out, which would be an excellent idea had she and Flo had the funds.

Air. Sweet, grounding air filled her lungs as she stepped outside, not looking back at her 'home' and caning it down the street, literally running away, hoping it would be far enough. But it wasn't. She breathed in more revitalising fresh air and sat on a curb to put her shoes on. Grit pierced her feet as she raced down the path, but it didn't stop her.

Suddenly, she was absolutely devoid of motivation, so instead of going to college, she went down some back alleys, taking the slightly dodgy shortcut to Brian's house. Somehow the alleyways that provided a quicker route to Brian's seemed safer than her own home. People peed, got high, were followed and whatever else down these alleys and yet Bernie felt more secure walking alone through the dinginess than at her flat with Holden just next door. This despaired her more than she thought it would and on the walk, she found herself thinking about what she'd trade to not have to live next to him. Her favourite pair of jeans, perhaps. The right to wear eyeliner ever again. All the pasta in the world. Almost anything that wasn't living. Although this game, if you could call it that, was far from uplifting as she realised what she'd sacrifice for a different place to live, it definitely made the walk feel shorter, which was a bonus.

"Oh, hi, Bernie...why are you wearing your uniform..?" Brian opened the door and cocked his head like a confused dog at the sight of Bernie on his doorstep at ten o'clock in the morning, fully geared up for college.

"Just let me in."

Immediately sensing how wrong everything felt, he ushered her inside and she headed straight to the kitchen to put the kettle on, wriggling out of the hold Brian had on her shoulder, even if it was one of tender care.

"Have you got anything more comfortable than this?" She pulled tiredly on the restricting fabric of her thick shirt, which pinged back onto her skin.

"Of course, yeah, do you want to borrow something of mine or Chrissie's?" Brian went through to his room to rummage around in the drawers for something that Bernie could wear. He lived in a bungalow with low ceilings and doorways that he had to duck to get under without bumping his head. Even so, his curls often brushed the top of of the doorframes as he passed from room to room.

"I don't care, as long as it fits." Stirring milk into two mugs, she set them down on the large, dark wooden table on some blue coasters. Moments later, Brian came through with some clothes draped over his forearm, offering them out to Bernie. She accepted them graciously and emerged from the bathroom wearing a t-shirt of Brian's and an old pair of jeans of Chrissie's that had a hole in a pocket and green paint stain on the knee. Bernie knew how Chrissie could sometimes get funny about lending her clothes out to anybody, no matter who they were, so Brian made sure to give her a pair Chrissie wouldn't notice were missing. "How do I look?" She blinked blankly and sat at the table

"It's an improvement."

"Watch it. Let's go in the living room, my back aches like fuck and these chairs aren't doing it any favours." They moved to the living room and sat on the mustard sofa with their mugs. Brian had opted for a coffee, whilst Bernie sipped on her first tea of the day.

"You really are beyond your years, aren't you Bernie?"

"Unfortunately. So, how was Ridge Farm?" She asked falsely chirpily, preferring not to dwell on her frequent aches and pains, both mentally and physically.

"You already know everything."

"Yeah, but I'm sure there's something you haven't told me-"

She was cut off by Brian's eyes narrowing, forehead creasing and body tilting forwards towards her, staring her straight in the eyes. "Bernie. Why are you here? Seriously. This isn't normal for you."

Both mugs were set aside so Bernie could use her hands to speak, or to fiddle with in her lap as she spoke with her head down. "...I've been feeling...funny lately and I've had a lot of...harassment, from Holden. Sexually."

Mouth opening and then closing with no words passing through, Brian leaned back into the sofa and stared at the plush white carpet. "That still doesn't explain why you're here." He said, daring to peer at her sideways. "And what is that on your face!?"

18/1/23