Bones
Twenty
Evil comes in many forms, but to Jamie it’s poison green eyes and long legs and short black hair. It takes a moment for her to glance his way, her smile obviously fading a bit as she notices there’s someone else there. Jamie thinks she must think he looks odd; birds nest hair, bruises for eyes, rubber bands over red scratchy scratchy nail marks, too big clothes hanging in all the wrong places.
He knows he looks like a small animal in headlights; more like a small bird in the scope of a BB gun of a twisted little child.
She gives him the once over quickly, an ‘o’ forming on her lips before she glances back to Nick. He has the same odd look as her, like he’s just as surprised, but really Nick, where else would Jamie be but here?
“Oh, uhm, Macy, this is my brother, Jamie,” Nick fumbles over his words as they fall out of his mouth and Jamie feels a shiver race down his spine. He doesn’t like the look that crosses her face, it’s like something clicks, it’s like she knows. (Sometimes Jamie wonders if he just emits the words crazy unstable sick evil crazy crazy.) Even if Jamie’s little monster isn’t much of a secret, it’s his little monster. The thoughts rush in like a river and he feels the waterfall start to build in his gut.
Shame and pity flicker in their eyes, but it’s hard for Jamie to decipher which one belongs where.
Jamie’s eyes dart around the room as an awkward silence falls around them. The hole in his stomach is growing quickly, and Jamie feels something he hasn’t felt in God knows how long. He wants to go outside. He wants fresh air and strangers and cold concrete under his feet and in his lungs.
“Oh, uhm, hi,” Jamie mimics his brother’s speech, raising his hand limply in a faux genuine greeting as he takes a few steps towards the door, reaching blindly for a jacket and keys. “It’s nice to meet you, Macy, but I was just on my way out.” Jamie looks at Nick, sees the shock and trace of fear flicker through his eyes, and addresses him quietly while looking away. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
He fumbles with the lock with shaky hands full of quickened nervous blood; Jamie rarely touches it and he always has difficulty opening it, something about the deadbolt being opposite the handle lock. He takes a quick breath in, and doesn’t look back at Nick or the pretty pretty girl.
Jamie doesn’t really notice where he’s going, doesn’t keep track of his steps, simply keeps his eyes on the concrete counting the cracks. It’s been almost four months since he and Nick moved here, but this is the first time he’s ever really gone out. Jamie stays home, inside where he’s safe with cigarettes and blankets and easily but rarely broken silence. Outside it’s noisy and crowded. He can feel people looking at him, staring and questioning. Jamie keeps his eyes on the ground, he doesn’t have to look at them to know what’s in their eyes or their heads. Because Jamie is stupid, fat, ugly, stupid, worthless, fat, stupid worhtlessworthlessworthless.
Jamie walks and walks and hugs corners, pulling his coat tighter around his body, dodging and stumbling around people with muttered “sorry’s” and “excuse me’s.” The cold bothers him more now than it used to, seeping into his bones and making them ache. His heart hurts a little, but the bite of the cold and lack of oxygen make him forget why. Jamie hasn’t moved around this much in weeks; the cigarettes aren’t helping the out-of-breaths either. He stops a moment, leaning back against a wall. He feels like he’s just sprinted a mile, chest hurts hurts hurts, his organs working too hard to keep him upright and breathing. Squeezing his eyes shut he tries to shake the spell in his head.
Fuckfuckfuck.
The sky’s grey, overcast and clouded, and Jamie can see thick drops of rain threatening to hit him.
Fuckfuckfuck.
As the downpour starts, people begin scurrying around him like mice, throwing up hoods and opening umbrellas.
Jamie, he just… smiles, for the first time in a while. The rain feels good, nice, simple. The sun peeks around a cloud, shining in his eyes for a split second. There’s a crack of thunder and a flash of lightening and Jamie feels peace. He’s not happy, nothing so unnatural, but a calm settles over his bones and sends a jolt through him that reminds him of what it felt like when he was really Alive.
A small - what’s the word - realization hits him then. Nick deserves to be happy. If a girl makes him happy, then that’s okay, he guesses. His monster, it doesn’t make him happy, but it makes him something. As long as it doesn’t kill him, but it makes him something, and if he’s - God forbid, content – then Nick should be content that he’s content and be able to find some happiness himself. Even if it’s a girl that’s too perfect in all the right places, even if it’s something Jamie can’t ever fucking reach. Jamie doesn’t think for a second that he’s jumping to conclusions or over analyzing things, his mind just rambles as it pleases.
Jamie goes home with the fetus of a chest cold and a quirk to his lips, even if it takes him nearly two hours to navigate back through the not-so-twisty-this-time-around streets.
He knows he looks like a small animal in headlights; more like a small bird in the scope of a BB gun of a twisted little child.
She gives him the once over quickly, an ‘o’ forming on her lips before she glances back to Nick. He has the same odd look as her, like he’s just as surprised, but really Nick, where else would Jamie be but here?
“Oh, uhm, Macy, this is my brother, Jamie,” Nick fumbles over his words as they fall out of his mouth and Jamie feels a shiver race down his spine. He doesn’t like the look that crosses her face, it’s like something clicks, it’s like she knows. (Sometimes Jamie wonders if he just emits the words crazy unstable sick evil crazy crazy.) Even if Jamie’s little monster isn’t much of a secret, it’s his little monster. The thoughts rush in like a river and he feels the waterfall start to build in his gut.
Shame and pity flicker in their eyes, but it’s hard for Jamie to decipher which one belongs where.
Jamie’s eyes dart around the room as an awkward silence falls around them. The hole in his stomach is growing quickly, and Jamie feels something he hasn’t felt in God knows how long. He wants to go outside. He wants fresh air and strangers and cold concrete under his feet and in his lungs.
“Oh, uhm, hi,” Jamie mimics his brother’s speech, raising his hand limply in a faux genuine greeting as he takes a few steps towards the door, reaching blindly for a jacket and keys. “It’s nice to meet you, Macy, but I was just on my way out.” Jamie looks at Nick, sees the shock and trace of fear flicker through his eyes, and addresses him quietly while looking away. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
He fumbles with the lock with shaky hands full of quickened nervous blood; Jamie rarely touches it and he always has difficulty opening it, something about the deadbolt being opposite the handle lock. He takes a quick breath in, and doesn’t look back at Nick or the pretty pretty girl.
-
Jamie doesn’t really notice where he’s going, doesn’t keep track of his steps, simply keeps his eyes on the concrete counting the cracks. It’s been almost four months since he and Nick moved here, but this is the first time he’s ever really gone out. Jamie stays home, inside where he’s safe with cigarettes and blankets and easily but rarely broken silence. Outside it’s noisy and crowded. He can feel people looking at him, staring and questioning. Jamie keeps his eyes on the ground, he doesn’t have to look at them to know what’s in their eyes or their heads. Because Jamie is stupid, fat, ugly, stupid, worthless, fat, stupid worhtlessworthlessworthless.
Jamie walks and walks and hugs corners, pulling his coat tighter around his body, dodging and stumbling around people with muttered “sorry’s” and “excuse me’s.” The cold bothers him more now than it used to, seeping into his bones and making them ache. His heart hurts a little, but the bite of the cold and lack of oxygen make him forget why. Jamie hasn’t moved around this much in weeks; the cigarettes aren’t helping the out-of-breaths either. He stops a moment, leaning back against a wall. He feels like he’s just sprinted a mile, chest hurts hurts hurts, his organs working too hard to keep him upright and breathing. Squeezing his eyes shut he tries to shake the spell in his head.
Fuckfuckfuck.
The sky’s grey, overcast and clouded, and Jamie can see thick drops of rain threatening to hit him.
Fuckfuckfuck.
As the downpour starts, people begin scurrying around him like mice, throwing up hoods and opening umbrellas.
Jamie, he just… smiles, for the first time in a while. The rain feels good, nice, simple. The sun peeks around a cloud, shining in his eyes for a split second. There’s a crack of thunder and a flash of lightening and Jamie feels peace. He’s not happy, nothing so unnatural, but a calm settles over his bones and sends a jolt through him that reminds him of what it felt like when he was really Alive.
A small - what’s the word - realization hits him then. Nick deserves to be happy. If a girl makes him happy, then that’s okay, he guesses. His monster, it doesn’t make him happy, but it makes him something. As long as it doesn’t kill him, but it makes him something, and if he’s - God forbid, content – then Nick should be content that he’s content and be able to find some happiness himself. Even if it’s a girl that’s too perfect in all the right places, even if it’s something Jamie can’t ever fucking reach. Jamie doesn’t think for a second that he’s jumping to conclusions or over analyzing things, his mind just rambles as it pleases.
Jamie goes home with the fetus of a chest cold and a quirk to his lips, even if it takes him nearly two hours to navigate back through the not-so-twisty-this-time-around streets.