Mrs Hansen || A Lloyd Hansen Story

One Day.

Rebecca was dragged from her drunken slumber by the sound of coarse snores coming from the corner of...

Wait what is this?

"Lloyd!" Rebecca shouts, clutching her head as the volume of her own voice pierces her brain.

Startled, Lloyds eyes snap open.  Rolling them at his surroundings he folds his arms across his chest tilting his head back against the wall.

"Lloyd, where are we?" Rebecca shivers, glancing around the white room.

"Airport jail, Rebecca. We're in fucking airport jail."

Rebecca snorted uncontrollably, laughter expelled from her core, surprising her more than Lloyd. She couldn't get a handle on it as it refused to stop, taking her breath away. Holding onto her aching sides as she panted through loud chortles.

"I'm glad you find it amusing." Lloyd grunts.

The hearty laughter quickly turns into soft sobs, then laughter, then weeping. Rebecca was having a breakdown, and no one could blame her. Not after everything she had been through. It was amazing that her sanity had stayed intact this long.

"You know what, Lloyd..." she spat his name, "I do find it amusing, it's really fucking funny. Because if I didn't laugh, I'd kill myself." Her eyes widen crazily, "Ohh wait, I nearly did, earlier today when you had your gun pressed under my chin." She growls through gritted teeth and with two fingers she mimes blowing her brains out.

Lloyd lunges forward clamping his hand across her mouth, "Shut the fuck up, Becca. We don't need to draw any more attention to us. I'd like to get out of here, without a fucking court order."

"Don't you dare fucking touch me...after the shit you pulled today...you don't ever get to touch me." Rebecca shoved him away, clawing the air like a cat forcing him back to his own side of the room.

Lloyd scoffs, shaking his head. He holds up his hands in mock protest, "Oh alright, Pumpkin. Calm the fuck down."

Rebecca takes four deep breaths trying to steady herself, he was right. She did need to tame herself. Because was he really worth all of this aggravation? The angry grieving?

The answer was, yes.  But she was so exhausted, mentally, and physically that she had lost the power to fight for and against him.

When he had that gun painfully jammed under her chin, she saw the fight in his eyes. It was there nestled amongst fearful rage and vivid visualisations of betrayal. It would have been easier on both of them for her to have been the enemy. Because then he would have had a reason to...

Kill her?

Hate her?

Forget her.

But once again she had proven herself to be nothing less than perfect.

The tension in the room was thick, a suffocating smog of misplaced love threatening to smother them. Rebecca glanced around the room trying to find something to focus on, but the room was bare. It wasn't like a prison cell; it was just like one of the interview rooms from those trashy TV shows. The ones where they interrogate travellers with falsified documents.

With nothing to look at to distract her, Rebecca's eyes fixate on Lloyd, his black short sleeved turtleneck shirt now wrinkled at the front where his arms had been folded. Her eyes roamed upwards, soaking in his plush lips as they rest in a pout underneath his moustache. She was finding it excruciatingly hard to let herself look up further, terrified of what she might find if she finally locked eyes with him. Or worse...what if he wasn't looking at her at all?