Sequel: Terra Firma ›
Just Paint Your Face
Because We Need
I yawned. The popcorn was now down to stale kernels and the media was tiring out my already unstable mind.
"It's late." I said pointedly.
Daisy rubbed her eyes, "Yeah..."
The Joker shrugged, "I wanna watch tv. You guys go."
The men got up, one by one, heading out the door. Some even congratulated me as they turned. My mind was occupied with other things. I got up, heading off to my room as if I was living life from a distance. I thought about Rachel, I thought about Harvey. I sighed, only pausing to look behind when I felt Daisy reach out and poke me.
"You don't know how much that meant to me." She said.
"Oh believe me, I do. But that doesn't make it any better."
"You're in love with a mad man. You shouldn't think of what's better. That's not twisted thinking."
I sighed. We walked on. She twirled.
"You've changed him..."
"Don't say that. Men don't change." I said with a sudden conviction and Daisy was silent for a while.
"Listen kid," I turned and knelt down to her level, "It's men, they do the changing. They clip. They prune. They water. They make us into what they want. A bitch. A freak. A partner. A foe. And we let them. You know why? Because we need."
"But you can't deny it," she held fast, "and he can't either. I see it. I'm not stupid, you know. Even the rest of the world sees it. The tape..."
I shook my head. I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to trust him fully yet. I'd been hurt too much. I crawled into my side of the bed alone, figuring he was sleeping on the couch or something. Too interested in the television. Typical. I scoffed, sinking bitterly into unconciousness.
The Joker
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
I listened to the far off noise of scanned items on a register, staring up at a shelf full of tampons.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
I felt my face. Clean and smooth. My hair was slicked back and my clothes were starched clean.
Super absorbent. Regular. Light. Sport. Greens, pinks, blues. What?
I twitched.
In my pocket, my cell phone buzzed. I picked it up, a reflex. Like second nature.
"Yeah?"
"Jack, when are you coming home?"
"Whenever I get the stuff from the list, Jeannie."
I looked around at other shoppers around me, all pushing carts like zombies. It was everyone I'd killed. I knew it already. I knew when I dreamed, I just didn't know how to get out.
I huffed impatiently. She said nothing. Always so quiet. But whenever she spoke, it was nagging and oppressive. I plucked up a box of tampax? I don't know. I just picked something up and threw it into my little basket, slouching.
"Make sure you get the wheat bread."
"The white bread. Right."
"Wheat, Jack. Wheat."
"Yeah yeah, white, whatever."
She huffed impatiently now. I stared up at the boxes, twitching again. My eyes flickered over to the produce aisle.
It was her. Red hair trailing down her back. My eyes passed hungrily over her hips and legs for a few seconds. Green eyes smiled as she plucked up some lettuce, inspecting it carefully. Behind her, a little girl in a white dress, carrying a bunch of CDs. I stood watching from afar for a few moments.
"...Jack? Are you listening?"
"Huh?"
Jeannie groaned. I heard the little girl laughing. It sounded like wind chimes.
"I know you're thinking about her, Jack. Stop."
"Okay." I slouched, suddenly spying an unfamiliar face. It was a man. He was chubby, bearded and just really creepy looking. Even for a guy like me. Now, I knew I was no Greek God or anything, but this guy could've used some exercise and a shave. At least crime gave you room to exercise. I saw the girl in the white dress look up, tug at her Mother's sleeve. The Mother looked alarmed and suddenly very frightened. She took up the little girl and started to scream. The beeps from the registers became louder, more intense. Jeannie was screaming in my ear to respond. The shoppers were screaming, worse than a few nights before. The man was lumbering toward them like a drunk, backing her into a corner. He tried touching her.
He fucking tried touching her.
"JACK ANSWER ME! WHEN ARE YOU COMING HOME?"
"You know what Jeannie, I'm going right now. Oh... and, uh, you know what else?"
"What?"
"Fuck you."
I dropped the phone with a clatter to the dull and scuffed tile floor. I saw my polished shoes smashing it to bits. I rushed over to the corner. Gambol ran up suddenly.
"Hey, man! There's this sale on switchblades in aisle--"
I snatched it out of his outheld hands. Before I could control what was happening, I was in the corner, carving into the dismayed pervert's face. The girl whimpered and clung to her Mother, still holding the lettuce. I felt thick, hot streams of blood all over my hands, the tile floor.
"Paint it red." I said, watching the man collapse with a thud.
Ivy
I woke up screaming. I hadn't even known I'd been doing it, all I remember was dreaming about my uncle. I shuddered. Black. Hate and black and fear, then my eyes snapping open and my hands scratching up at his mangled face. My first thought was he was trying to rape me, but I slowly realized as reality trickled in that he was trying to calm me down. He struggled with my arms for a moment, pinning his body against my own. He clamped a hand over my mouth, holding a finger to his lips.
"You'll wake the girl." He whispered. My hair was matted to the pillow, my ivy had grown across the bed. I saw scratches on his arms from where the thorns tried in vain to defend me. I took deep breaths through my nose until he was statisfied. He must've heard me down the hall, must've woke up running.
"He's not here anymore. Just me. Just me."
I shivered and cried silently. He rolled off of me and went over to the sink, washing his hands obsessively. I listened to the water run for a while and calmed down. I could hear it splashing and knew he was washing his face. I jumped when I heard the door open.
"Hey what's with the racket..." I heard Daisy say groggily.
"It's a bad dream. Go back to bed."
She shrugged, cursing as her toe hit his desk on the way out. I sighed shakily as I felt him slink into the bed beside me, flinched slightly out of previous fright when he tried again to be affectionate.
(What if he isn't trying?)
Shut up. His hands ran through my hair, now becoming light and wavy again. He sang some weird form of a lullabye. His singing voice was weird and slightly out of tune but it soothed me for some reason.
(You've changed him...)
I screwed my eyes shut. I didn't want to trust emotion just yet.
Only chaos.
"It's late." I said pointedly.
Daisy rubbed her eyes, "Yeah..."
The Joker shrugged, "I wanna watch tv. You guys go."
The men got up, one by one, heading out the door. Some even congratulated me as they turned. My mind was occupied with other things. I got up, heading off to my room as if I was living life from a distance. I thought about Rachel, I thought about Harvey. I sighed, only pausing to look behind when I felt Daisy reach out and poke me.
"You don't know how much that meant to me." She said.
"Oh believe me, I do. But that doesn't make it any better."
"You're in love with a mad man. You shouldn't think of what's better. That's not twisted thinking."
I sighed. We walked on. She twirled.
"You've changed him..."
"Don't say that. Men don't change." I said with a sudden conviction and Daisy was silent for a while.
"Listen kid," I turned and knelt down to her level, "It's men, they do the changing. They clip. They prune. They water. They make us into what they want. A bitch. A freak. A partner. A foe. And we let them. You know why? Because we need."
"But you can't deny it," she held fast, "and he can't either. I see it. I'm not stupid, you know. Even the rest of the world sees it. The tape..."
I shook my head. I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to trust him fully yet. I'd been hurt too much. I crawled into my side of the bed alone, figuring he was sleeping on the couch or something. Too interested in the television. Typical. I scoffed, sinking bitterly into unconciousness.
The Joker
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
I listened to the far off noise of scanned items on a register, staring up at a shelf full of tampons.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
I felt my face. Clean and smooth. My hair was slicked back and my clothes were starched clean.
Super absorbent. Regular. Light. Sport. Greens, pinks, blues. What?
I twitched.
In my pocket, my cell phone buzzed. I picked it up, a reflex. Like second nature.
"Yeah?"
"Jack, when are you coming home?"
"Whenever I get the stuff from the list, Jeannie."
I looked around at other shoppers around me, all pushing carts like zombies. It was everyone I'd killed. I knew it already. I knew when I dreamed, I just didn't know how to get out.
I huffed impatiently. She said nothing. Always so quiet. But whenever she spoke, it was nagging and oppressive. I plucked up a box of tampax? I don't know. I just picked something up and threw it into my little basket, slouching.
"Make sure you get the wheat bread."
"The white bread. Right."
"Wheat, Jack. Wheat."
"Yeah yeah, white, whatever."
She huffed impatiently now. I stared up at the boxes, twitching again. My eyes flickered over to the produce aisle.
It was her. Red hair trailing down her back. My eyes passed hungrily over her hips and legs for a few seconds. Green eyes smiled as she plucked up some lettuce, inspecting it carefully. Behind her, a little girl in a white dress, carrying a bunch of CDs. I stood watching from afar for a few moments.
"...Jack? Are you listening?"
"Huh?"
Jeannie groaned. I heard the little girl laughing. It sounded like wind chimes.
"I know you're thinking about her, Jack. Stop."
"Okay." I slouched, suddenly spying an unfamiliar face. It was a man. He was chubby, bearded and just really creepy looking. Even for a guy like me. Now, I knew I was no Greek God or anything, but this guy could've used some exercise and a shave. At least crime gave you room to exercise. I saw the girl in the white dress look up, tug at her Mother's sleeve. The Mother looked alarmed and suddenly very frightened. She took up the little girl and started to scream. The beeps from the registers became louder, more intense. Jeannie was screaming in my ear to respond. The shoppers were screaming, worse than a few nights before. The man was lumbering toward them like a drunk, backing her into a corner. He tried touching her.
He fucking tried touching her.
"JACK ANSWER ME! WHEN ARE YOU COMING HOME?"
"You know what Jeannie, I'm going right now. Oh... and, uh, you know what else?"
"What?"
"Fuck you."
I dropped the phone with a clatter to the dull and scuffed tile floor. I saw my polished shoes smashing it to bits. I rushed over to the corner. Gambol ran up suddenly.
"Hey, man! There's this sale on switchblades in aisle--"
I snatched it out of his outheld hands. Before I could control what was happening, I was in the corner, carving into the dismayed pervert's face. The girl whimpered and clung to her Mother, still holding the lettuce. I felt thick, hot streams of blood all over my hands, the tile floor.
"Paint it red." I said, watching the man collapse with a thud.
Ivy
I woke up screaming. I hadn't even known I'd been doing it, all I remember was dreaming about my uncle. I shuddered. Black. Hate and black and fear, then my eyes snapping open and my hands scratching up at his mangled face. My first thought was he was trying to rape me, but I slowly realized as reality trickled in that he was trying to calm me down. He struggled with my arms for a moment, pinning his body against my own. He clamped a hand over my mouth, holding a finger to his lips.
"You'll wake the girl." He whispered. My hair was matted to the pillow, my ivy had grown across the bed. I saw scratches on his arms from where the thorns tried in vain to defend me. I took deep breaths through my nose until he was statisfied. He must've heard me down the hall, must've woke up running.
"He's not here anymore. Just me. Just me."
I shivered and cried silently. He rolled off of me and went over to the sink, washing his hands obsessively. I listened to the water run for a while and calmed down. I could hear it splashing and knew he was washing his face. I jumped when I heard the door open.
"Hey what's with the racket..." I heard Daisy say groggily.
"It's a bad dream. Go back to bed."
She shrugged, cursing as her toe hit his desk on the way out. I sighed shakily as I felt him slink into the bed beside me, flinched slightly out of previous fright when he tried again to be affectionate.
(What if he isn't trying?)
Shut up. His hands ran through my hair, now becoming light and wavy again. He sang some weird form of a lullabye. His singing voice was weird and slightly out of tune but it soothed me for some reason.
(You've changed him...)
I screwed my eyes shut. I didn't want to trust emotion just yet.
Only chaos.