Jane sat in the winter stark garden of a house that was much too big and intimidating. The mansion reminded her of Harcolt Place"if Harcolt Place hadn't been crumbling down around the family's ears. A bitter chill penetrated her bones. Her joints ached. She needed these moments to herself; away from the rigors of training and the fear that had become her shadow. It stuck to her; apprehension an aura that jutted out from her alcohol-abused frame.
She hated it.
Bruxing her teeth, she rubbed at the newly mended skin that started in a ragged tear from one side of her wrist out in a steep diagonal down toward her elbow. It was one of the uglier marks. There was another mark, almost a twin, but smaller on the opposing arm (and several more over her body). At its birth it hadn't gone as deep and was lighter. Jane hoped she could afford the magic one day to remove them.
Her heart squeezed uncomfortably. The day was ending. Shadows lengthened over the lawn. She told herself she was brave. She forced herself to be bold. Was it so much to want things back the way they were" The ache in her chest moved to a throbbing in her head. But it was all so messed up. Her realities were tangled up in a muddle of could-have-beens and should-have-beens and what-actually-had-beens. It got in the way of everything. If she'd killed herself when it first started, when the relic first came into her hands; would it have been better" But Will and Chloe would still be dead. Jane would just be with them. There was no way to end herself in a way that mattered.
"*&^%," Jane yelled. The word became a misty cloud of white that hung briefly in the air before dissipating. Anger sparked. Her fingers wound into coffee-ground brown half-curls pulled until her scalp stung. She wanted to hurt herself but she couldn't really punish herself any more than she already had been. Besides, the brunette wasn't prone to cutting and only enjoyed some pain in the bedroom. "Sucks," she sighed as she half-voiced a thought rolling around in her head.
She folded herself into a tighter ball. Nigel needed to get better lawn furniture. Stone wasn't cutting it. The unforgiving material made her butt numb. Idly, she strummed her fingers near her borrowed phone. Everything about her lately was on loan: her phone, her home, and any semblance of life. All of it came from somewhere else. Jane felt like an empty shell that was just, coincidentally, shaped like a person.
Seizing the black mobile in her hand, she navigated the screens. Thoughtfully, she rubbed her lips together. The gloss had dried out. She needed more. Spit was a poor substitute for the sweet balms she favored. Once she found the text menu Jane started to compose. It was slow going, and she paused frequently.
Text to Levi: When I was thirteen, before my father died, he took me to see how he worked Text to Levi: He bought so much. He'd buy almost anything as long as it wasn't from here Text to Levi: It was exciting. Then it was boring. It was weird how people bartered away their junk Text to Levi: There was this one couple. They didn't really have anything to sell. Some tin trinkets. Text to Levi: My dad bought their shoes. Text to Levi: Back then I thought there were just stupid. Why the *&^% would you sell your shoes" Text to Levi: I didn't get it then. I do now. My dad did them a favor because they were desperate. Text to Levi: I've pawned off more things than I can remember. My things. My sister's things. Text to Levi: But never my shoes. I guess until now I've never felt that hopeless. Text to Levi: How are you doing, btw" Text to Levi: It's cold as *&^% outside. How do you stand walking your dogs"
After her text bomb to Levi, Jane cupped the phone in her hands; holding it in the press of her palms. The cold didn't bother her as much as the growing dark. She could, she decided, stand both for a little longer before she went back inside. If only just a little longer.
She hated it.
Bruxing her teeth, she rubbed at the newly mended skin that started in a ragged tear from one side of her wrist out in a steep diagonal down toward her elbow. It was one of the uglier marks. There was another mark, almost a twin, but smaller on the opposing arm (and several more over her body). At its birth it hadn't gone as deep and was lighter. Jane hoped she could afford the magic one day to remove them.
Her heart squeezed uncomfortably. The day was ending. Shadows lengthened over the lawn. She told herself she was brave. She forced herself to be bold. Was it so much to want things back the way they were" The ache in her chest moved to a throbbing in her head. But it was all so messed up. Her realities were tangled up in a muddle of could-have-beens and should-have-beens and what-actually-had-beens. It got in the way of everything. If she'd killed herself when it first started, when the relic first came into her hands; would it have been better" But Will and Chloe would still be dead. Jane would just be with them. There was no way to end herself in a way that mattered.
"*&^%," Jane yelled. The word became a misty cloud of white that hung briefly in the air before dissipating. Anger sparked. Her fingers wound into coffee-ground brown half-curls pulled until her scalp stung. She wanted to hurt herself but she couldn't really punish herself any more than she already had been. Besides, the brunette wasn't prone to cutting and only enjoyed some pain in the bedroom. "Sucks," she sighed as she half-voiced a thought rolling around in her head.
She folded herself into a tighter ball. Nigel needed to get better lawn furniture. Stone wasn't cutting it. The unforgiving material made her butt numb. Idly, she strummed her fingers near her borrowed phone. Everything about her lately was on loan: her phone, her home, and any semblance of life. All of it came from somewhere else. Jane felt like an empty shell that was just, coincidentally, shaped like a person.
Seizing the black mobile in her hand, she navigated the screens. Thoughtfully, she rubbed her lips together. The gloss had dried out. She needed more. Spit was a poor substitute for the sweet balms she favored. Once she found the text menu Jane started to compose. It was slow going, and she paused frequently.
Text to Levi: When I was thirteen, before my father died, he took me to see how he worked Text to Levi: He bought so much. He'd buy almost anything as long as it wasn't from here Text to Levi: It was exciting. Then it was boring. It was weird how people bartered away their junk Text to Levi: There was this one couple. They didn't really have anything to sell. Some tin trinkets. Text to Levi: My dad bought their shoes. Text to Levi: Back then I thought there were just stupid. Why the *&^% would you sell your shoes" Text to Levi: I didn't get it then. I do now. My dad did them a favor because they were desperate. Text to Levi: I've pawned off more things than I can remember. My things. My sister's things. Text to Levi: But never my shoes. I guess until now I've never felt that hopeless. Text to Levi: How are you doing, btw" Text to Levi: It's cold as *&^% outside. How do you stand walking your dogs"
After her text bomb to Levi, Jane cupped the phone in her hands; holding it in the press of her palms. The cold didn't bother her as much as the growing dark. She could, she decided, stand both for a little longer before she went back inside. If only just a little longer.