‹ Prequel: Just Paint Your Face
Sequel: Half Jack ›
Terra Firma
Jeannie Never Left
Joker
Plink.
Plock.
Plink.
Plock.
That sound... sounded so much like...
(Jeannie's heart monitor plink plock plink plink plink cough cough how's the baby? okay)
"Is that all you care about? The baby?"
Her voice, raspy and bitter, like the taste of ashes on the tongue. The nurse at her side looked at me like I was the devil. Maybe I was.
I'd nodded, scratching my head--call it cruel, but I am an honest man. No matter what. I remember her coughing dryly, over and over and over--making my eye twitch ever so slightly.
The nurse looked at me hatefully before leaving the room to go get lunch or something for the bitch. Obviously Jeannie told her all about me. About how I didn't do this or I didn't do that and couldn't clean very well or I refused to go to bed with her or I never talked with her about my day.
Ivy never asked too many questions, never demanded anything more than the rotting old building we were housed in now, never whined about how the little dripping of the rainwater into the slimy bucket kept her awake.
Kept me awake.
Plink.
Plonk.
Plink.
I blinked in rhythm with the steady beat, sitting upright on the mattress, feeling something scutter by my dirty feet. I stayed still, watching the bucket in the middle of 'our room', ignoring the far off argument Grumpy and Goofy were having in the upstairs "living quarters" of the old shop, nestled crookedly in the blackness of another twisted, ignored alley.
(black twisted like Jeannie's lungs right before she croaked.)
coughcoughcough
Something was in her lungs, rotting, and stinking. Festering like an old sore. I didn't realize it then, but the same thing was in my brain. It would soon burst. But only make me stronger. Stranger.
"Jack..." she said weakly. I sat up in the stiff hospital chair, fiddling with my thumbs.
She was coughing and spluttering like a car about to break down on the side of the road, but all the while she smiled sweetly-- like that crazy bitch with the axe in Misery, as if she had some scheme planned out:
"You know, you never cared. About anyone. That's okay. I can't stand you anymore anyway. The way you stutter and say 'uhhh' all the time. When you lick your damn lip..."
I was only half aware that I'd pulled out my knife in my madness, lost in a hazy memory.
"You talked in your sleep the past few weeks before... all this... and you're always going on about some redhead girl," Her tone was more whiny, more bitter and sarcastic in those last moments, "I don't understand you. I never understood you. The world never understood you. But you know what? That'll change. You'll find somebody to care about one day, somebody who gets you. When you do, I'll be there. I'll be there to warn her. To show her what you're becoming. Don't think I don't know where you're going tonight. I know that address in your coat pocket is one of those mob bars."
I licked my lip, frowning.
Jeannie turned, coughing, disgusted.
"I'll be there Jack. I've gotta protect her from you."
I could hear myself snarl back in the shadows of reality, grasping my blade so tightly my hand became warm with a familiar liquid--as comforting to me as hot bath water, only thicker.
Plink plink plink.
The dripping
(beeps of the heart monitor)
became louder and more persistent. Urgent now, like the beating of a Tell Tale Heart.
PLINKPLINKPLINKPLINK PLIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNK.
A continuous whine, like Jeannie's voice, filling the room. I sat nonchalantly, staring off at her bulging belly as she coughed the last bit of air her lungs had the strength to hold and teetered off into nothingness.
Despite it, she was smiling--she was going to get back at me and I knew it.
I could feel myself shaking with stiff anger from my position next to Ivy on the mattress. I could not comprehend that I had the knife dangling so close over her chest.
PLINK PLOCK PLINK.
kill her you want to do it you will do it because I'm right Jack I know I told her to watch out and now she has to PAY.
Ivy
He thought I was asleep.
But once I heard him sit up and mumble I tuned in, daring to squint my eyes open on occasion as he brought out his knife, staring off at nothingness, his eyes void of any reality or emotion.
I now could feel my heart hammering in my chest desperately, my ivy shifting silently on my arm in a warning alarm, blaring in my brain. He wasn't even looking at me. He was still staring off at something, his arm frozen over my bare chest, his hand clasped with conviction around the sharp blade. I could feel blood trickling from his palm onto my skin and I wanted to run, I was so afraid.
What was I supposed to do? Even the swiftness of my vines could not match the knife, inches away.
In that tense moment, one face... one voice, entered my mind.
Rachel.
Trust him. Trust him. He can fight it. Jeannie is nothing. I can stop her. Trust me. Trust this.
I could feel the air, thick and black, surround my frozen body as he raised his arm with a sureness I was too familiar with--familiar with from watching him kill others. And now it was directed over my beating heart.
I could swear my heart stopped for just a millisecond.
But that was impossible.
Then again, they also say it's impossible for sociopaths to love.
"SHUT THE DAMN BUCKET UP!"
CLANG.
I could hear the knife as it hit the bucket we'd set in the center of the room to trap rainwater with such a force that it fell and rolled, tumbling on the dirty floor of our new hideout. His body was frozen for a moment, and then he turned, staring into my widened and relieved eyes. I knew he could sense my fear and I hated it.
He cocked his head, shaking his dirty brown hair, "I won't do it. I won't do it. I promised."
I turned away, facing the cracked wall, hoping he would leave me alone now and just go to sleep. But I could feel him wrapping his arms tenderly around me again, feel his face buried in my lank hair. He did something then, said something that I would only remember him saying once.
Maybe he thought I was half asleep and not listening. Maybe he was half asleep.
Maybe he wanted me to hear it.
"Someday we'll be free. And happy! You'll see. But we still have work to do. For now, we'll just be Les Miserables."
I sighed, shutting my eyes slowly.
"I promise, Ivy."
And an honest man always kept his promises.
Plink.
Plock.
Plink.
Plock.
That sound... sounded so much like...
(Jeannie's heart monitor plink plock plink plink plink cough cough how's the baby? okay)
"Is that all you care about? The baby?"
Her voice, raspy and bitter, like the taste of ashes on the tongue. The nurse at her side looked at me like I was the devil. Maybe I was.
I'd nodded, scratching my head--call it cruel, but I am an honest man. No matter what. I remember her coughing dryly, over and over and over--making my eye twitch ever so slightly.
The nurse looked at me hatefully before leaving the room to go get lunch or something for the bitch. Obviously Jeannie told her all about me. About how I didn't do this or I didn't do that and couldn't clean very well or I refused to go to bed with her or I never talked with her about my day.
Ivy never asked too many questions, never demanded anything more than the rotting old building we were housed in now, never whined about how the little dripping of the rainwater into the slimy bucket kept her awake.
Kept me awake.
Plink.
Plonk.
Plink.
I blinked in rhythm with the steady beat, sitting upright on the mattress, feeling something scutter by my dirty feet. I stayed still, watching the bucket in the middle of 'our room', ignoring the far off argument Grumpy and Goofy were having in the upstairs "living quarters" of the old shop, nestled crookedly in the blackness of another twisted, ignored alley.
(black twisted like Jeannie's lungs right before she croaked.)
coughcoughcough
Something was in her lungs, rotting, and stinking. Festering like an old sore. I didn't realize it then, but the same thing was in my brain. It would soon burst. But only make me stronger. Stranger.
"Jack..." she said weakly. I sat up in the stiff hospital chair, fiddling with my thumbs.
She was coughing and spluttering like a car about to break down on the side of the road, but all the while she smiled sweetly-- like that crazy bitch with the axe in Misery, as if she had some scheme planned out:
"You know, you never cared. About anyone. That's okay. I can't stand you anymore anyway. The way you stutter and say 'uhhh' all the time. When you lick your damn lip..."
I was only half aware that I'd pulled out my knife in my madness, lost in a hazy memory.
"You talked in your sleep the past few weeks before... all this... and you're always going on about some redhead girl," Her tone was more whiny, more bitter and sarcastic in those last moments, "I don't understand you. I never understood you. The world never understood you. But you know what? That'll change. You'll find somebody to care about one day, somebody who gets you. When you do, I'll be there. I'll be there to warn her. To show her what you're becoming. Don't think I don't know where you're going tonight. I know that address in your coat pocket is one of those mob bars."
I licked my lip, frowning.
Jeannie turned, coughing, disgusted.
"I'll be there Jack. I've gotta protect her from you."
I could hear myself snarl back in the shadows of reality, grasping my blade so tightly my hand became warm with a familiar liquid--as comforting to me as hot bath water, only thicker.
Plink plink plink.
The dripping
(beeps of the heart monitor)
became louder and more persistent. Urgent now, like the beating of a Tell Tale Heart.
PLINKPLINKPLINKPLINK PLIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNK.
A continuous whine, like Jeannie's voice, filling the room. I sat nonchalantly, staring off at her bulging belly as she coughed the last bit of air her lungs had the strength to hold and teetered off into nothingness.
Despite it, she was smiling--she was going to get back at me and I knew it.
I could feel myself shaking with stiff anger from my position next to Ivy on the mattress. I could not comprehend that I had the knife dangling so close over her chest.
PLINK PLOCK PLINK.
kill her you want to do it you will do it because I'm right Jack I know I told her to watch out and now she has to PAY.
Ivy
He thought I was asleep.
But once I heard him sit up and mumble I tuned in, daring to squint my eyes open on occasion as he brought out his knife, staring off at nothingness, his eyes void of any reality or emotion.
I now could feel my heart hammering in my chest desperately, my ivy shifting silently on my arm in a warning alarm, blaring in my brain. He wasn't even looking at me. He was still staring off at something, his arm frozen over my bare chest, his hand clasped with conviction around the sharp blade. I could feel blood trickling from his palm onto my skin and I wanted to run, I was so afraid.
What was I supposed to do? Even the swiftness of my vines could not match the knife, inches away.
In that tense moment, one face... one voice, entered my mind.
Rachel.
Trust him. Trust him. He can fight it. Jeannie is nothing. I can stop her. Trust me. Trust this.
I could feel the air, thick and black, surround my frozen body as he raised his arm with a sureness I was too familiar with--familiar with from watching him kill others. And now it was directed over my beating heart.
I could swear my heart stopped for just a millisecond.
But that was impossible.
Then again, they also say it's impossible for sociopaths to love.
"SHUT THE DAMN BUCKET UP!"
CLANG.
I could hear the knife as it hit the bucket we'd set in the center of the room to trap rainwater with such a force that it fell and rolled, tumbling on the dirty floor of our new hideout. His body was frozen for a moment, and then he turned, staring into my widened and relieved eyes. I knew he could sense my fear and I hated it.
He cocked his head, shaking his dirty brown hair, "I won't do it. I won't do it. I promised."
I turned away, facing the cracked wall, hoping he would leave me alone now and just go to sleep. But I could feel him wrapping his arms tenderly around me again, feel his face buried in my lank hair. He did something then, said something that I would only remember him saying once.
Maybe he thought I was half asleep and not listening. Maybe he was half asleep.
Maybe he wanted me to hear it.
"Someday we'll be free. And happy! You'll see. But we still have work to do. For now, we'll just be Les Miserables."
I sighed, shutting my eyes slowly.
"I promise, Ivy."
And an honest man always kept his promises.