[Flushed and sweaty, Laura awakes with a start. Slick fingers fumblingly gather the flimsy cotton blanket securely about her body as she scoots to the deepest recesses of the tent. Jolted into subdued reality, her watery eyes blink in rhythm with her labored breathing. Her lungs burn and fill with tainted air, and her mouth grows dry as time stretches into a taut motionless infinity. Staring blindly, a tiny ripple of condensation captures her attention—narrows her brow with its slow journey down the faded gray canvas wall to a state of undisclosed predisposition. Painfully, Laura tries to swallow…a false start that remains securely lodged in her windpipe. Choking on endless confusion and betrayal, a muted struggle illuminates the haunted depths of her eyes. Manic waves of anxiety rise up to meet her as in her desperation she spies Shane sleeping beside her.]

[A frozen statue of undefined motion, Laura’s eyes grow wide. Feeling the tremors, the tide of nervous energy, swell within her, her teeth viciously clamp down on her red chapped lips. The coppery tang of blood alerts her senses. Unsure, her head tilts lower and with a subtle shift of movement she sidles closer. For long moments, she is content to simply watch the steady rise and fall of his bare chest. She has never known a man so at peace before. And when she is with him, she can almost believe—almost make his calm her calm. Laura’s mouth curves into a mysterious smile as trembling fingers linger just above his slightly opened lips.]

~~~

[Exhausted and worn, she somehow manages to find her way back. Standing in the center of camp beside a fire long-since dead, Laura pivots. With a heavy sigh, her eyes scan the deserted site as she once again begins to wonder if she has been unknowingly relegated to recurring status. As if she and those like her have somehow been deemed unworthy of even the most basic of human courtesies—just another prop dusted off from time to time then cast back into the dark dusty shadows of the Corday attic. Laura longingly gazes down the shore, past the breaking tide, beyond the deceptively calm depths and still further to the invisible comforts of home—of Salem. Her small voice seems to echo in her own mind as stubborn tears begin to gather.] Just a phantom emotion.

Shane: [The humidity an unbearable force…the air a thick living thing to be cut through, like untamed vines strangling life. Slumped and clothed in a second skin of cotton, Shane’s dejected form quietly emerges from the treeline. God how he dreaded facing Marlena…dreaded facing himself and his failure. Wearily shaking his head, he lifts his eyes. At the sight of Laura’s rigid form, exhilarated disbelief color his words as he steps closer.] Laura, darling! Thank heavens you’re alright. I’ve been looking all over this godforsaken island for days…[Somewhere between a cringe and a sigh of relief—Laura’s reaction almost immediately softens within the soothing cadence of Shane’s accent as she turns to meet him. Seeing her teary smile, Shane pulls his handkerchief from his pocket and gently wipes them from her cheek.] was just about to give up hope…

[Tired of living in a world of consequence but no history, Laura propels herself forward. Shane’s words fade beneath her lips as her fingers make quick work of the buttons on his oxford shirt. Pulling her closer, they clumsily stumble backwards into the support pole of Laura’s tent. As her hands travel up and over his shoulders beneath his sweat-slicked linen, he shivers—sheds his skin. The urgent call for oxygen burns in their throats and so they separate. His warm breath tickles across her skin—a call/response for her raspy whisper.] Shane…[His hand melts into her back, and his lips blaze a trail down her neck to the crook of her shoulder. His cool teeth lightly bite across her flesh to tug at the thin knit of her shirt—a delicious whimpering gasps sounds in his ear. With an unbridled tug Laura drops his belt to the ground. Smiling, she turns and disappears into her tent…Shane’s drowsy eyes tracking her movements—with an exaggerated swallow he follows.]

~~~

[Leaning in closer, the light whistling cessation of Shane’s breath twisted Laura’s smile into a childlike expression of fascination as her fingers made ghostly swipes just above them. Turning suddenly to curve his body around her outstretched legs, her jerks away. Furrowing her brow, she watches him. Looking helplessly about the tent, Laura unconsciously gnaws on her chapped lips and reaches for her pillow—a poor substitute. Cautiously she rises to dress.]

[Before exiting the tent, she allows herself one final moment to gaze upon Shane. Mumbling she leaves.] Some of us just aren’t meant to have our knights in shining armor…[Glancing down at herself], He deserves more than this…


confessed by Laura at 11:01 PM