A/N: Hello. Long time, no see. Type. Read. Whatever.
I got into Jessica Jones fairly recently, and I loved it a little too much. This idea came from an idea I had, a response my friend gave to the idea I had, and a bit of a personal experience of mine.
Now obviously, if you're reading Jessica Jones fan fiction, I shouldn't have to remind you that Kilgrave is more than a bit of an ass. Yet it is more than necessary to tell you that if you've been through an experience like this, you probably should not read this. It's a very serious topic, and if it has happened to you, then I am deeply sorry. I can't even begin to imagine the hell you've gone through. While this is not graphic at all, please do keep that in mind.
As another side note, a few things have been changed in this universe that I feel I should clarify. A few characters don't exist in this AU (Malcolm is the major one I feel is missing) and some characters died in the TV series that still exist in this universe (Luke Cage's wife is the major one, but could be ignored). Instead of eight months, like in the original, it's been changed to roughly a month in this one. Kilgrave isn't as much as a jerk in this, but he's still an asshole. Jessica's backstory about her family and being adopted by Trish is still the same.
I listened to a lot of Halsey when I wrote this (why does everyone associate Halsey with Jessica Jones) and I read/watched Spotlight (really a horrible story, but ten out of ten would recommend).
All the more, I hope you enjoy. I've been planning on writing more, I don't know if I'll get around to it though. I have more (cringeworthy) writing if you want to read, don't necessarily have to. I love absolutely love feedback on this.
Enjoy.
She didn't understand why he hated her.
At eleven years old, almost twelve, Jessica Jones knew that she was special. She knew that when she lifted up a car to save her friend from being crushed. From then on, she felt the need to do some good in the world. After all, she lived in New York, which was constantly crawling with superheroes, people capable of making a change. She strived to be one of those. At eleven years old, Jessica Jones wanted to make a difference.
So that's what she did.
Every night, she went out, dressed in black, and fought the criminals on the streets, in alley ways, in back doors. She often came home very early in the morning with bruises and cuts and scrapes, but after a while it happened less and less. She always made sure they went to jail, and eleven year old Jessica was proud of that. No one at home ever noticed, except for Trish, who after a while, accepted the fact that her adopted sister was running around and saving people.
And for a while, Jessica was happy. It was what she loved doing, and every night, when she came home, it was the happiest she'd ever been. Crime rates went down because of her, and at eleven years old, Jessica Jones couldn't have been more proud.
But then she met him.
And everything went horribly wrong.
It was in the middle of the night, like no other. She had just beat up a pair of muggers and threw them against the fence, hoping that the police would pick them up while they were still unconscious. Then she placed her hands on her hips and grinned. She had yet again saved the day when someone behind her started to applaud.
Startled, she turned around to see a man standing there, dressed in a purple suit, with women at his shoulders. Jessica looked confused and the man kept applauding.
"Well well well," he said excitedly. "You put on quite a show, didn't you?" The man grinned from ear to ear and waited for a response. When he didn't get one, his smile turned to a frown. "What? What's wrong?"
Jessica stared up at him, not able to form a coherent sentence. She knew people looked up to her to stop all the crime, whether or not they knew it was her, but no one ever caught her. Where did he come from? How did he know about her?
The man looked just as confused for a minute, then burst out into the same huge grin again. "Oh! I understand! Are they scaring you?" He asked, gesturing to the women.
Jessica swallowed, then nodded. No, it wasn't necessarily the women that scared her, but she didn't really want to tell the purple man he seemed frightening. (She liked the name Purple Man, it seemed fit him very well.)
The man smiled, then turned to both of the girls. "Leave us," he said, and immediately the girls turned and walked away. Jessica suddenly wanted to walk away too, and started to turn around.
"Hey hey hey," the Purple Man's voice came from behind her. "Turn back around."
There was something in his voice that Jessica didn't like. It seemed to have a controlling tone to it, and it gave her a bad feeling, as if she were a puppet and the Purple Man was holding on to the strings. However, when he spoke, her whole body relaxed, and it was like she fell asleep, with a slight tingling feeling, as if a current was running through her.
With some difficulty, she turned back around to face him. She didn't want to talk to him. In fact, she didn't want to look at him. The Purple Man frightened her, and even though she went out every night and fought people who should've scared her, the Purple Man scared her more.
The Purple Man grinned again. "There we go! Now stand still." He commanded, and so she did. Her body suddenly became paralyzed, and she couldn't move. Jessica's breathing started to get faster, and she couldn't catch her breath.
The Purple Man walked up to her, then slowly walked a small circle around her, observing her. Neither of them said anything, but Jessica didn't like it. She didn't like him, she didn't like what he was doing, she wanted to punch him in the face and run as fast as she could, she wanted to run all the way back home where Trish was, for the first time since she started this whole thing, Jessica Jones was very, very scared.
"How old are you?" The Purple Man asked finally, taking a step back, and Jessica noticed that he had a slight accent. "Fifteen, sixteen?"
Jessica swallowed to get rid of the lump in her throat before she spoke. "I'm eleven, sir."
"Eleven?" The man's voice almost raised to a yell at the end of his sentence. "You're eleven years old and you're taking out Hell's Kitchen's villians? All by yourself?" Jessica suddenly surged with a sense of pride and smiled for the first time since she saw him. She nodded excitedly.
"Do you remember the guy that snuck out in the night and broke into all the grocery stores and took all the money from the registers?" Jessica asked, feeling somewhat estatic.
"That was you?" The Purple Man said, almost just as excited, with a mix of surprise and denial. Jessica grinned from ear to ear, finally happy that someone could tell her to her face that they appreciated her.
The man smiled, then looked her up and down again. "Tell me your name," he commanded, and the same tingling feeling went through Jessica again.
"My name is Jessica, sir," she replied. "Jessica Jones."
The Purple Man smiled faintly. "Jessica..." He mumbled. He seemed lost in thought for a few moments, but then he looked back down at Jessica and his smile grew. "You know, Jessica, you look very beautiful when you smile."
Jessica turned a very bright red, and looked away from him and down at her shoes. She hadn't been called beautiful before. Trish called her pretty, and some adults called her cute, but being called beautiful made her feel grown up. She liked it very much.
"So, Jessica, I was thinking," the Purple Man said, crouching down so he was her height. "I like you. I'm quite interested in you, and I'd love to see what else you can do. I mean, you've got those superpowers you need to practice, don't you?"
Jessica then looked back up, somewhat surprised. "You know I have-"
"Yes, Jessica, I've known for a little while," he said. "I've got them too."
Realization dawned on her, and she grinned."That's why you- you can control people? With your voice? That's so cool! You can do whatever you want and people can- that's awesome!"
The Purple Man grinned and nodded. "It is pretty cool," he agreed. "Maybe I could help you strengthen your powers, if you wanted."
"Could you teach me how to control people with my voice?" Jessica asked, excited. She could be the ultimate superhero, if she wanted, and the Purple Man seemed like he could be a good teacher. After all, she hadn't met anyone else with powers. Maybe it was a good thing he found her.
The Purple Man laughed, then shook his head. "Sorry, sweetheart, I can't teach you that. But I could teach you...other things, you know."
Jessica frowned a little. "Like superhero stuff?"
"Like superhero stuff." The Purple Man agreed. Jessica's frown quickly changed back into a smile, and she nodded.
"Okay," she said. "You can teach me the superhero stuff."
The Purple Man grinned, then stood up, brushed off his pant legs, then looked back up at Jessica and held out his hand. "C'mon," he said, and Jessica wasn't sure if he was controlling her or not, because the tingling feeling was back, but it was more in her stomach this time and it was like there were a million different butterflies in her tummy. But either way, Jessica reached out and took the Purple Man's hand, and she skipped towards him. His grin didn't fade, and perhaps it got even wider, and together they walked down the sidewalk to wherever he was leading them.
"What's your name?" Jessica asked, realizing that she didn't know it.
"You can call me Kilgrave," the Purple Man said, his hand squeezing Jessica's smaller one. Jessica smiled wider as they turned a corner. His hand felt very warm and comforting, like Trish's hand whenever Trish was sad, or when Jessica was angry and needed to calm down, but his was larger, and somehow felt more trusting.
Jessica shoved her other hand in her jacket pocket (it was leather and it was Trish's, so it was slightly too big for her, but she loved the feel of it, and it smelled like home) and stared down at her shoes as Kilgrave wove his fingers in her hand with her small ones. She looked up at him as he looked for ways to get back to his home, Jessica assumed, and she realized that she wasn't afraid of him anymore.
How wrong she was.
~X~
"When are you gonna teach me the superhero stuff?" Jessica complained, her head resting against the table. "We've been here for two hours."
"Jessica, I need you to be patient." Kilgrave said, pouring something into a test tube, his eyes focused on the red liquid. Jessica sighed, then leaned back into her chair. After a moment, she smiled to catch his attention, then sat up in the chair again. "What's that?" she asked, pointing to a test tube.
Kilgrave briefly dropped his gaze away to the one she was pointing at, then smiled and went back to mixing the red liquid with a clear one. "It's just a chemical, nothing to worry about."
"Are they all chemicals?" Jessica asked, standing up and wandering around the table.
"Not all of them," Kilgrave replied. "That one's just water, and that one is," he checked the label underneath one of the jars. "Alcohol." He paused for a minute, then took a swig from the jar, causing Jessica to giggle. Kilgrave smiled, then wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Don't do that at home," he replied, putting the jar down.
"How do you know all of this?" Jessica asked, walking over and tapping a beaker.
"Dear ol' dad was a scientist," Kilgrave responded. "I managed to pick up a few things."
"Does it have to do with my powers?" Jessica asked. Kilgrave nodded, swirling the beaker. "Cool," Jessica murmured, picking up a jar and observing it in the light.
"I think," Kilgrave said. "We're almost done. I just need you to stand still for minute."
"Why?" Jessica asked, before she felt a slight prick on her neck. "Ow!" She exclaimed, before putting her hand behind her neck. When she pulled it back up, it was red.
"Just needed a little bit of blood," Kilgrave said, mixing it in so the red liquid was even redder. When he was done, he poured it into a syringe, then tapped the needle and gave it to Jessica. She stared at it in confusion for a few moments, then looked back up at him.
"It's for you," Kilgrave said, putting his hands in his pockets. "It's so you can strengthen your abilities."
"Do I have to take it right now?" Jessica asked, staring at the syringe.
"Oh no, God, no." He replied, seemingly appalled. "We can take it later. Let's do something else."
"Can we play a game?" Jessica asked enthusiastically, almost dropping the syringe. Kilgrave smiled, then nodded. "Sure. What game shall we play?"
"Simon Says!" Jessica said almost immediately. It was her favorite game to play, especially with Trish, and she loved to come up with fun challenges for the players. Kilgrave raised an eyebrow, and Jessica almost laughed at her mistake. "You can't use your powers though, okay?" she said, moving away from the table.
Kilgrave chuckled, then smiled. "Alright, fine. Simon Says..." he paused for a second. "Pat your head."
Jessica giggled a little, then reached up and pat her head. "Come on, that's an easy one!" Jessica complained. "Do something harder!"
Kilgrave chuckled a little bit. "Okay, Simon Says take your shoes off and go jump on the bed."
Jessica rolled her eyes, but smiled and pulled off her combat boots, then went into the bedroom and jumped on the bed. She did so for a moment or two, then jumped down and sat down on the bed.
"Do it again!" She exclaimed. KIlgrave smiled, then looked her up and down before saying something.
"Simon Says take your jacket off."
Jessica furrowed her eyebrows, slightly confused, but took off the leather jacket anyway.
"Simon Says take off your shirt." This time, the feeling hit her in the stomach, and as much as she didn't want to, her hands moved on their own, reaching up and unbuttoning her flannel.
"Kilgrave," she said, her body betraying her and pulling off her shirt so she was topless. "What are you doing?"
"Take the rest of your clothes off," Kilgrave said, taking off his own jacket, and Jessica's tiny hands worked on their own, completely under his control, until Jessica was completely naked, sitting on Kilgrave's bed, and she found herself being unable to breathe.
She knew stuff like this happened. She just didn't realize it could happen to her.
"Jessica, please don't cry," Kilgrave said, and that's when she realized that silent tears were streaming down her face. Jessica didn't even attempt to wipe away her tears as Kilgrave climbed onto the bed with her, trapping her between the sheets and him, and for the rest of the night, she listened to horrible things whispered in her ear that she didn't want to her, but was forced to enjoy, and did things she didn't want to, but was forced to do, and felt things she didn't want to feel, and yet, the pain reached out and pulled at her stomach anyway, fear gripped her tight and didn't let her go, and the overall thought of what was happening to her left her entire body numb.
For the first time, in a very long time, not since the car crash, not since the first night she went out on her own, not even when she first met Kilgrave, which felt like years ago compared to the hours she spent with him, eleven year old Jessica Jones, almost twelve, was truly terrified.
"Baby, please don't cry," he murmured by her ear as she cried silently, knowing the pain would never go away after this. "Please don't cry. It'll be over soon. Please, baby girl, please don't cry."
~X~
Jessica didn't even know how long she spent in the bedroom. Hours? Days? Weeks? She didn't even bother keeping track of time. It all felt the same to her. She'd lay on the bed, not daring to get up, as Kilgrave did what ever he did during the time he was away, but she didn't think he'd ever leave the apartment as she heard him through the door, walking across the hall, talking, sometimes yelling on the phone. Eventually he'd come in, with an angry expression on his face, but then he'd see Jessica sitting there and he'd smile, and then he'd undress and the pain would start all over again. Then it'd be over, and he'd leave, and Jessica wouldn't cry.
Jessica would stare up at the ceiling, counting all the cracks in the wall. She wouldn't cry. He didn't like to see her cry, and as he told her once one night, that big girls didn't cry. She was a big girl now.
Jessica didn't want to be a big girl.
One night, Kilgrave left the door open. He had dressed back up in the suit, leaving the few top button's unbuttoned, then left the room, the door open. Jessica left it open for a few minutes, but then curiosity had got the better of her, and for the first time since she laid down on the bed, she used whatever strength she had left to sit up.
The bedroom was dark, but the hallway outside was light. It took Jessica's eyes a few minutes to adjust, but eventually she got used to it. She could hear Kilgrave outside, pacing the kitchen, and she didn't want to talk to him, not even look at him, but she had to, she had to ask him.
Jessica slid off the bed for the first time, then looked around the room. She found her underwear and pulled it on, thanking that she finally had clothes, but couldn't find her leather jacket or flannel or jeans. She eventually settled on a big white dress shirt that was probably Kilgrave's, and she buttoned it up with her tiny trembling fingers.
Weakly, Jessica walked towards the door, her legs not wanting to work, until Jessica's fingers wrapped around the door handle, and she pulled the door open to find Kilgrave sitting at the counter, reading a paper.
She couldn't find her voice. It didn't want to be found.
Finally, Jessica was able to grasp something that vaguely resembled her voice, and she took a deep breathe before she decided to say something.
"Kilgrave?" Jessica asked, a sudden feeling of anxiety hitting her hard. The shirt, she decided, was way too big for her, as it reached her knees. She felt very naked, especially since now she was in front of him and wearing nothing but the shirt and underwear, but if she squinted, she could see the shirt as a dress.
She hated dresses.
"What do you want?" Kilgrave growled. He was hunched over the paper, facing away from Jessica, so she couldn't see his face. He sounded angry, though. She didn't even want to make him even more angry.
"Why..." here she took a deep breath. Jessica's hands were shaking so much, she crossed her arms and folded her hands under her arms in an attempt to make them stop. "Why do you hate me?"
Immediately everything changed. He stood up straight in his chair, and he stopped whatever he was working on almost immediately. There was a moment where neither of them said or did anything, and Jessica was completely ready for him to lose it.
But he didn't.
Instead, he turned around, looking confused, maybe even a little shocked, and he looked so confused and shocked and maybe even disappointed that Jessica felt upset. She didn't want to upset him,she just wanted to understand after being lost for so long herself. Her eyes burned with tears beginning to form, and she scrubbed at them with the back of her hand.
She was a grown-up now.
And grown-up's didn't cry.
"Jessica..." Kilgrave said softly, standing up from his chair. "You think...you think I'm doing this...because I hate you?" Jessica nodded, and rubbed her eyes again. She didn't want to cry. Not right now, not in front of him. Kilgrave sighed, then walked over and crouched down so he was her height and put his hands on her shoulders. Her hands were still shaking, and after a moment, his hands moved from her shoulders to her hands and wove his fingers with hers.
"Jessica," he said, staring at her in all seriousness. "I don't hate you. You know this already. Why would I hate you?"
"You hurt me though." She mumbled. Jessica didn't dare say it louder than she dared, because she didn't want him to answer her.
"What was that?" Kilgrave asked.
Jessica shook her head, trying to let go of his hands.
"Jessica," Kilgrave said, not angry, just stern. "Tell me what you just said."
A familiar feeling ran through Jessica's veins, and she struggled to fight against her words. "You...hurt...me...though," Jessica growled, still mumbling.
"Louder, Jessica."
Suddenly, the feeling became too much, and Jessica became unbelievably angry. "You hurt me though!" she yelled, and yanked her hands away. Kilgrave stood up, now angry.
"Don't you yell at me!" Kilgrave's tone was angry, but Jessica didn't care.
"You hurt me every night and you- you say things you don't mean, and you call me beautiful but I know you're lying because if I was then you wouldn't hurt me like that and I hate you!" She screamed at Kilgrave, taking a step back. A single tear rolled down her cheek, and she wiped it away, furious that the flood damns betrayed her. "I wanna go home," she said after a moment. "I wanna see Trish again."
Kilgrave said nothing for a few minutes. He just watched her, stood perfectly still for a few minutes. Jessica swallowed to get rid of the lump in her throat, and she let loose a sob.
Finally, Kilgrave sighed, then walked towards her. He reached down, put his hands under her arms, and picked her up and rested her on his hip, as if she were a baby.
"I don't want to be held." Jessica said, emotionless. Kilgrave just chuckled.
"C'mon, Jessica," Kilgrave muttered. "Let's go outside."
He carried her out onto the balcony, where she could see everyone below and the tall buildings that stretched out taller than the apartment they stayed in. Jessica stared out at all of Hell's Kitchen, gazing at the beauty of it all. She loved it when it was night, because of how different everything looked. Everything took a much darker undertone, and the lights on inside the buildings casted shadows on the pavement. Kilgrave kissed her cheek. Jessica stood still, watching the rest of the world, ignoring Kilgrave's forehead against her cheek.
"Look at all of this," he mumbled, just loud enough to be heard over the wind. "Look at all go the scum, the lowlife, the ones that rob and murder and sell drugs and all of those villains."
The wind hit Jessica again, and she shivered. She wrapped her arms around Kilgrave's neck and buried her head in his shoulder.
"I hate those people," Kilgrave's voice floated by her ear. "I don't hate you. You've done nothing wrong. You're not like those people."
Jessica gave some form of verbal agreement, not wanting to look up at him. She just wanted to leave. She was so tired and sad and she didn't want to stay with him anymore. She wanted to go home, where at least Trish was, who made her feel safe and comfortable and happy.
"You shouldn't hate me either," Kilgrave said. "I haven't done anything like that, have I?"
"No," Jessica's voice was muffled by his shoulder.
"Then you have no reason to hate me," he said. Jessica just nodded. The tears came back again, but this time, she didn't try to stop them. She just let them sit there, starting to blur her vision.
Kilgrave kissed her cheek again, then wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him.
"I love you," he said.
And that's when Jessica cried.
~X~
She finally had a chance to escape.
Jessica woke up one morning to find Kilgrave gone, with the bedroom door open, and he was seemingly not in the apartment from what she could hear.
And, from a split second decision, it was her only chance with getting out of here.
With all the strength she had left in her, Jessica got up from the bed and quickly looked around the room in search of her regular clothes. It took a few minutes, with her constantly pausing for breath and the fear of him coming back, but after she almost tore the room apart, she found her blue flannel and Trish's leather jacket. Jessica almost cried with joy when she found them, and quickly buttoned up her flannel and pulled on the jacket. They had become almost a size too big for her, but they were comforting, and the jacket somehow still smelled like Trish, and Jessica fought to keep the tears out of her eyes. A few more minutes and Jessica finally found her jeans, and faster than you could say 'Jessica Jones', she was out the bedroom door.
Surprisingly, her combat boots were right outside the door, so all she had to do was pull them on. Then, from what Jessica could remember, she wandered down the hallway until she came across the door. The door that led out into the hallway that led out to the bottom of the building, which led to her freedom. Jessica, with some enthusiasm created out of fear and excitement, reached out and pulled down on the door handle.
And of course it was locked.
Jessica groaned, then slammed her hand against the wall in frustration. She then flinched in pain as the wall created a spider-web like crack under her strength.
Strength.
And suddenly, Jessica had an idea.
With that, she turned around and almost ran into the kitchen, looking for the syringe on top of the table. She was sure she left it there, in case Kilgrave moved it. Jessica's eyes scanned the table before settling on the red liquid, then grabbing it, pulling up her jacket and shirt sleeve, and readying the needle above one of the veins in her arm before hesitating.
Kilgrave didn't tell her how to take it.
What if she messed up?
Jessica bit her lip, then sighed. "What more could go wrong?" She said, her voice barely going above a whisper, before sticking the needle in her arm and injecting the liquid into her veins.
Whatever Kilgrave had made, it took effect almost instantly. Immediately it was like fire replaced her blood, roaring through her veins, and it took all of Jessica's willpower, or whatever was left of it, to not scream out in pain. But soon the fire was replaced with electricity, and Jessica felt like she was going to explode with energy. She dropped the syringe and raced to the door, and this time, when she grabbed the door handle, she yanked it back with so much more strength, the door almost shattered in half as she swung it open.
And then Jessica ran.
Eleven year old Jessica Jones ran faster than she had ever ran before, down the hall, the stairs, into the lobby, where a few people checking in and a woman at the desk gave a few odd glances, but before anyone could stop her she had raced out the door.
It was freezing outside, and hunger pains were beginning to stab her in her stomach, but she didn't care. Jessica had so much energy, and was running on fear and adrenaline, and the only way she could get rid of it was if she ran. So she took in a deep breath and ran across the street to the sidewalk and took off.
It took Jessica a few minutes as she raced through streets to remember how to get to Trish's house, but when she did, she sped up and raced down the road. A few cars honked at her as she passed the streets, but Jessica ignored them. She was focused on one thing, and one thing only.
Finally, after what seemed like years of running, Jessica found Trish's neighborhood. With adrenaline catching up to her, she raced until she found the big white house at the end of the loop, ran up on to the front porch, and with all the strength she could, pounded on the door with both of her fists until her hands went numb.
As she heard someone's footsteps come racing down the stairs, Jessica exhaled a breath she didn't realize she was holding. Her legs were in pain, and her hands were in pain, and her stomach and her head hurt, but Jessica forced herself not to let the tears win and let loose.
"Big girls don't cry," she mumbled to herself as her eyes welled up with tears. "Big girls don't cry, big girls don't cry. C'mon, Jessica, big girls don't cry."
The door swung open, and tall, beautiful, blonde Trish opened the door to find a smaller, almost skeletal, broken Jessica standing on the porch.
Trish's eyes widened, but she didn't say anything for more than a few minutes. Jessica sniffed, then hugged herself to keep herself warm against the cold, and then attempted to smile.
Finally, Trish mumbled out a "Where the hell were you?"
Jessica's smile dropped as Trish's mumbles turned into yells. "Where the hell were you, Jessica? Gone for almost three weeks, with no note, no sign of where you went, no nothing. I knew you went out to do all your- all your superhero crap, but I was expecting you to come home. I looked for you for days, I tried to get people to help me, I even resulted to goddamn fliers, Jessica, to get people to look for you. And Mom-" here, Trish took in a deep breath, and rubbed at her eyes too. "Mom wouldn't even help me. She just laughed and said you probably got hit by a car too. Of course, she wouldn't say that if anyone else asked her, but it just- where the hell did you go? Why- why did you leave me? Why did you leave me alone, to put up with Mom, why, Jessica-"
"Big girls don't cry," Jessica blurted out, interrupting Trish. Trish paused, looked Jessica up and down, and then finally processed what she said.
"Jessica, what happened?" Trish finally asked, the yells brought down to the comforting tone Jessica knew so well. Trish took a step forward and held out her arms, and Jessica collapsed into Trish, breaking down and sobbing into Trish's shirt. Trish hugged Jessica tightly while Jessica attempted to explain between sobs.
"It- he told me he'd help me- but he- he hurt me, Trish, and he- Trish he-"
"Shh, Jessica, it's okay," Trish said, and it took Jessica a minute to realize that she was crying too. "You're safe now, okay? You're safe, and you're with me, and you're gonna be alright, okay Jessica?"
Jessica nodded, and let out another sob. She was gonna be okay now. She now had Trish again, and was away from Kilgrave, and she hoped he'd never find her again.
Maybe this superhero thing was a bad idea.
~X~
Fifteen year old Jessica Jones doesn't stay out late anymore, fighting crime and keeping bad guys off the streets. She stays inside, specifically at a local bar, where she finds herself knee deep in shot glasses at two in the morning. It wasn't where Jessica wanted to be at all, but at least the bar was safer than the streets, and the alcohol could at least numb the pain.
Fifteen year old Jessica Jones is still as alone as she was four years ago, perhaps even more so. The only two people she considers friends now is Trish and the bartender, Luke. But Trish was leaving soon, off to college, Jessica thought, so that just left Luke The Bartender. She liked him. He didn't stop her after how ever many drinks she had, he never had her pay for them, and if she was really drunk, he was there to take her home, because he knew she was in pain, and she wanted to drink until it all went away and the feeling she used to get when she remembered Kilgrave was replaced with numbness.
Fifteen year old Jessica Jones doesn't wear purple anymore. She did a lot when she was younger, even when she met Kilgrave, but now she can't even look at the color without the memories and the pain flooding back to her, as if they were suppressed by a damn and the color was the breaking point. Now she wears long sleeves, still that damn leather jacket, because it still smells like Trish and it gives her the same feeling Trish does, and even though Jessica has grown, it's still slightly too big for her. She also wears the grey hoodie when she can, sometimes under the leather jacket, because she knows people will judge her for the scars on her wrists and they just won't understand the pain that still haunts her and that the cutting helped some of it go away.
Fifteen year old Jessica Jones hasn't smiled. She hasn't smiled since those three weeks of Hell, and she told herself she never would again. Kilgrave said she looked beautiful when she smiled, and she didn't want to be beautiful anymore. People still called her pretty, but she used to have panic attacks when they did, and the compliments stopped after a while. Luke The Bartender has called her beautiful a couple times, and those few times were the ones when she didn't have a panic attack, where she didn't burst into tears, in fact, one time Luke swore he saw her blush, but it could've also been the lighting of the bar and it was dark out, so he wasn't sure.
Fifteen year old Jessica Jones, to put it lightly, is a weapon of mass destruction. A bomb, threatening to go off at any moment, with an explosion big enough to take out everyone, if she tried.
Fifteen year old Jessica Jones is still broken. And she'd rather she wasn't.