Thursday, September 13, 2012 -- before dawn
How could he have expected her to know what this would really mean? She's so young. He forgets that, often, because it's so easy to, sometimes -- when she's telling him it's worth it, the monsters, the demons, because she understood what they all meant, understands that it isn't fair, that a monster doesn't choose to be a monster. She understands.
But what she couldn't have understood -- she's so young -- is what this means for the rest of her interactions. What this means to her family, friends -- hiding, justifying, trying to convince that nothing is wrong when things are very wrong. She couldn't have understood the gravity of it, how this decision affects everything.
They're quiet on their way home, quiet when they go to bed. Ben's quiet when he leaves, a couple of hours later. He's not sure if Jackie's sleeping. She doesn't say anything to stop him if she's not.
There's this buzzing, this chatter, these thoughts -- unstoppable, unrelenting, uninvited, that don't feel like his own--
Just a little air, getting a little air will help clear his head--
Ben never goes away this time, but he doesn't entirely remember wanting to be in the wooded area behind Jackie's house, doesn't remember going there, but that's where he is now, pacing, trying to internally sort all these thoughts out, rein them in--
To anyone else, it sounds like half a conversation--
To Ben, it's an internal debate, it's reasoning with a demon, it's a conversation with a monster, all contained within--
And then he hears himself -- really hears himself, he's talking to himself -- not to himself, but to a voice only he can hear--
He claps his hands over his mouth -- because he's horrified, because he feels sick, because he needs to shut himself up, speak no evil -- but he can cover his ears if he likes, and there won't be any hear no evil--
He's not sure how long he's been out there, but the sky, just this side of pre-dawn, has flooded red-tinged--
Something unravels--
When Ben crawls back into bed with Jackie, he's trying to resist contact (she's so young, this isn't fair to her, you're being selfish, this can't last), but the need for it is too great, and after a moment he pulls her into his arms, tucks his head under her chin, closes his eyes, lets a slow, shaky breath out against her throat, the curve of her clavicle.
It is selfish, and he knows it, and there's nothing to do about it now, not tonight. But tomorrow--
And it's only with that resolve in his heart that things finally quiet and he's able to get any sleep at all.
How could he have expected her to know what this would really mean? She's so young. He forgets that, often, because it's so easy to, sometimes -- when she's telling him it's worth it, the monsters, the demons, because she understood what they all meant, understands that it isn't fair, that a monster doesn't choose to be a monster. She understands.
But what she couldn't have understood -- she's so young -- is what this means for the rest of her interactions. What this means to her family, friends -- hiding, justifying, trying to convince that nothing is wrong when things are very wrong. She couldn't have understood the gravity of it, how this decision affects everything.
They're quiet on their way home, quiet when they go to bed. Ben's quiet when he leaves, a couple of hours later. He's not sure if Jackie's sleeping. She doesn't say anything to stop him if she's not.
There's this buzzing, this chatter, these thoughts -- unstoppable, unrelenting, uninvited, that don't feel like his own--
Just a little air, getting a little air will help clear his head--
Ben never goes away this time, but he doesn't entirely remember wanting to be in the wooded area behind Jackie's house, doesn't remember going there, but that's where he is now, pacing, trying to internally sort all these thoughts out, rein them in--
To anyone else, it sounds like half a conversation--
To Ben, it's an internal debate, it's reasoning with a demon, it's a conversation with a monster, all contained within--
And then he hears himself -- really hears himself, he's talking to himself -- not to himself, but to a voice only he can hear--
He claps his hands over his mouth -- because he's horrified, because he feels sick, because he needs to shut himself up, speak no evil -- but he can cover his ears if he likes, and there won't be any hear no evil--
He's not sure how long he's been out there, but the sky, just this side of pre-dawn, has flooded red-tinged--
Something unravels--
When Ben crawls back into bed with Jackie, he's trying to resist contact (she's so young, this isn't fair to her, you're being selfish, this can't last), but the need for it is too great, and after a moment he pulls her into his arms, tucks his head under her chin, closes his eyes, lets a slow, shaky breath out against her throat, the curve of her clavicle.
It is selfish, and he knows it, and there's nothing to do about it now, not tonight. But tomorrow--
And it's only with that resolve in his heart that things finally quiet and he's able to get any sleep at all.