Dog Teeth
To say that he wasn't always this way, would be a complete lie. I'd known him. Probably better than anyone, actually. How unfortunate for me, that is. Because he's back, and I'm still here, and now he'll have to get rid of his only liability, the only hole in his so called 'new' identity. He'll have to come for me.
The so called 'persona' people accuse him of, isn't really that. He's not hiding behind some mask. He never has. But, there was a time that he came pretty close. As close as he'd ever get to faking - when he'd been Jack, when he'd seemed 'normal.' It would only take a simple run in with him to realize that he was anything but.
I'd gone to school with him, you see, and I had probably been the closest thing to a friend he'd ever known. Not that he had ever wanted me there. Throughout our time in school together he'd treated me like an inconvenience, like a knife in his back that he couldn't quite reach to rip out. Jack never cared about anyone, not even himself. When we'd first met he had pretended pretty well, he played a good role of 'boy next door.' I'd been a foolish girl back then. Gullible.
I realize that now.
At the time I'd met Jack, we'd both been mere children. Walking into a new school as a new student had never been an easy task for me. As a young girl I was timid, unsure of myself, and hid it behind sarcasm, and biting words. At first glance he was just a regular kid, an outcast - sure, but maybe just a quiet kid. He'd had me fooled, like a wolf in sheep's skin.
The day I'd entered the classroom, he'd caught my eye, and I felt the exact moment I'd happened upon his. Jack's hair was one of the brightest blondes I'd ever seen, unruly curls draped over his narrowed eyes, and from the way his legs were cramped beneath the old school wooden desk, right off the bat, it was easy to tell he was pretty tall for his age.
Blushing, I'd adverted my eyes as soon as possible, as to not get caught staring, and accused of some silly crush on the first day. The impulse was there though, I'd thought he was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. If you'd asked me then, I would have said he looked like an angel, from hispouting lips to his drowsy looking eyes. My face had burned a bright red as the teacher introduced me to the class, and I bit the inside of my cheeks bloody to keep from making a fool of myself in front of my new classmates. It was then that I felt his gaze burn holes into the side of my face.
The way I felt myself reacting was a big red flag, but at the time I'd blamed it on my girlish crush-at-first-sight. Strawberry blonde hairs on the back of my neck prickled, along with my skin, the palms of my hands became clammy, and instead of my heart speeding up, I could have swore that it stopped for a moment.
The only remaining vacant seat in the class was right beside him. I couldn't help but feel that that meant something, because what were the odds? His gaze didn't waver, neither discouraging me, or beckoning me closer. The other children in the classroom had pinned me beneath their eyes, as well, hushed whispers behind chubby fingers, and fast paced fluttering of eyes, all directed toward me. The blank expression didn't leave his face, and I tried to make it a point not to look at him too much, failing for the most part. I worried he could hear the pitter patter of my heart, beating as quick as a monarch's wings beneath my shirt. The teacher continued on with the lesson, but I wasn't listening, and had a pretty good feeling he wasn't either, because his eyes hadn't flickered away from me once.
I wondered if he thought he was being subtle about it with his side eye stare. Either way, it made a kind of pride swell in my chest, that this boy - as lovely as he was - would be looking at me. I twirled a lock of my hair between my fingertips, and watched as his twitched on top of his graffiti-littered desk, like the appendage was jealous that it wasn't in mine's place - all he had to do was ask, I'd let him in a heartbeat.
I became enamored rather quickly. My momma' always said that the loneliest people latched onto what they could, good, or bad, that they found beauty in the ugliest things - whether that ugly was on the inside, or not. So, I thought maybe, it was possible that I had done that, but there was no way he wasn't lonely, too. Only, I hadn't thought 'how can someone be lonely when they've never known anything but loneliness?' Momma' didn't tell me that in order for that loneliness to be requited, I had to find someone that was actually lonely, not empty.
Not a walking dead man.
It hadn't been possible to know that at the time, of course, I'd been nine years old, but I would've been much better off with my loneliness. My solitude. Instead, I decided to stare back. He didn't notice until he caught me, for the third day. . . in a row. I knew he could feel it, at first he would get twitchy, though his face remained frozen, in its icy blank state. He was observant, aware, it seemed his only problem was figuring out why I was staring. I made it quite clear when I began following him around. Normally, I wouldn't dare. But, skipping behind him in my red checkered dress, heading in the opposite direction of the populated playground had felt right, somehow.
I'd grown up on a farm, had lived there my entire life. I had never had to worry about the dangers of people. Of course, every place in the world has bad folk in it, but nothing much happened in the small town I'd grown up in. The worst thing that I had stumbled upon was figuring out I'd eaten a piece of Darla, my favorite pig, for breakfast one morning. Although it had been heartbreaking, I was still naive to the cruelty of city life - of city people - and all that they could do. Would do. If I gave them the chance. The boy abruptly stopped in front of me, without my notice, and I crashed into his back, falling backwards on my bottom when he twisted around toward me, an angry snarl covering his face. When he caught sight of my quivering lip, and dirtied dress, the discontent twist of his mouth disappeared. He looked puzzled, and mildly uncomfortable, as I shakily wiped my dress off, and stood before him, my hands on my hips. "Well?" I'd said with a sass, that I wouldn't dare later on. He looked at me like I had three heads, mumbling something under his breath before turning to continue walking away. My hand tugging on the back of his t-shirt stopped him faster than I'd expected it to, and before I could back away he spun back, knocking my hand away harshly, it throbbed, and I had gasped, stepping back.
"Well? Well, what?" I didn't say anything for a moment, amazed by the fact that he'd finally spoken to my. The gruff, monotonous sound of his voice had caught my off guard. I'd never heard anything like it, no boys my age sounded quite like that, their voices were squeaky, like the sound of a knife against piano strings, his was deep, hoarse, as though he hadn't spoken in days. Suddenly nervous I began to twirl my hair again, yanking at the strands. His hand twitched. I'd forgotten what we'd been talking about, unfamiliar with the anger in his dark, black-like eyes. They were mean eyes, sharp, merciless, they reminded my of daddy's when he'd had one too many beers, and momma' would say he was getting too big for his britches. Only when he turned, impatiently, and began walking away again did I speak up.
"You tripped me! Momma's gonna' kill me for coming home like this!" my tone was accusatory, but my eyes flashed anxiously when he scoffed at me, I realized I was being irrational - I'd been following him, after all. To my surprise he didn't turn to leave again, just stood, and stared at me some more, as if he hadn't gotten an eye full already. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his hand-me-down jeans, they looked too lose on him to have actually been bought like that. His shirt, and jacket were over sized as well, giving my the impression that it too had been given to him, from his dad, or brother. In fact, his entire wardrobe looked like it had been bummed off of someone much older than him. Though that didn't bother me, I thought he looked handsome.
"Why're you talking to me?" my head shot up, looking up at him as he spoke to my. I raised my eyebrows, confused. His eyes narrowed further, and I almost backed up against the brick wall of the school as he stalked toward me, but he wasn't overbearing with his stride. "One of those assholes paying you? Huh, that it? Getting a kick out of a pretty girl like you pretending to waste my time on me?" If I blushed anymore I'd be likely to actually become a tomato. He seemed even more perplexed as a smile spread across my face, bashfully.
"Ya' think I'm pretty?"
He let out a snort, and rolled his eyes away, but nodded, nonetheless. "Yeah, you're…uh, you're okay." I'd never had a boy tell me such things so blatantly to my face before, and found I couldn't look at him anymore without the hot flush across my cheeks burning further. 'You're okay.' Meant a lot more to me than he'd meant for it to. He worried the fabric of his jeans, and I traced patterns into the dirt beneath my sneakers. When I finally did look up, he was staring directly at me, like he couldn't understand my presence, couldn't imagine I was real. I smiled, as wide, and bright as I could, just like momma' said boys my age liked, and shoved my hand toward him to take in his own. He seemed caught off guard for a moment, I'd probably looked like some kind of rabid dog baring its teeth at him.
"My name's Adina, but lots a' people just call me Adi." It took a few moments for him to blink, or even breathe, I'd thought with a giggle. But, sure enough, his hand swallowed mine with its size, as he tenderly shook it, as though not to break me. It made me feel special to be touched like that. I can remember thinking, 'he's one of the gentlest boys, I've ever met." Silly me.
"Jack." He offered to me, as though it were an after thought, "You were following me." The curls against his forehead followed his movement when he turned to me, his eyes were narrowed in suspicion, and then he snatched his hand away, sliding it back into his pocket. I hadn't planned on him calling me out for it, I'd spent every other moment in school for the past three days by his side, and he'd never said a word, until now, only when we had evaded the teacher's watchful eyes. "Why?" Everything about him seemed so soft, compliant, I hadn't expected the hostility his voice held toward me, my vocal cords had apparently decided to go on vacation, and evade me the moment I needed them most. I shrugged, the movement quick, and jerky, hoping he wouldn't continue his interrogation. The hand he'd retracted before came back into view, and wrapped itself around my forearm, just above my elbow, and squeezed. A gasp escaped my throat, but all I could manage was a broken apology, shaky as it left my trembling lips. I'd never gotten into any physical argument before, so I wasn't sure what to do when his grip didn't cease, only stood there as his eyes searched my watering ones, crowding in on myself, and waiting for him to let go.
The pressure of his fingernails felt like they were tearing into my skin, his bony fingers indenting the pale skin of my arm, and leaving dotted specks of red in their path. I didn't look away, hoped that maybe if I stared back then he would release me, I don't know what he'd been looking for, but he seemed to find it, his eyes dancing in glee until they softened. He drew me closer, I ducked my head but his voice was right in my ear, mockingly comforting, something about that voice had me hiding my face against his arm, seeking more. His fingertips gripped my chin until I was looking up at him, tear stained cheeks, red, and puffy, with my lips quivering. Jack's eyes practically drank in my features, scanning every inch, but his thumbs were wiping the tears from my eyes, and his pouting mouth was pursed, short little comforting phrases leaving it. It was clear that he didn't mean any of it, that he wasn't sorry, and didn't regret a single thing he'd done to me, but something about the way he did it had me nodding my head, and crowding closer, willing to take anything he'd give me.
I heard his snicker, muffled into my hair as I pressed my face into his shirt, he let me stay there for a few minutes, steadying my breath, gathering myself, until he pulled me away, a deep sigh exiting his mouth when he grabs my arm, a soft guilty expression in his chocolaty brown eyes. "What're we gonna' do about this." He asked inquisitively his eyebrows were furrowed as he stared down at the shallow welts in my arm from his nails, surrounded by purpling bruises left by the tips of his fingers. He traced them, connecting the prints like a constellation. When I looked up there was something in his eyes, so protective, and guilty, I shuddered, covering the marking with my other hand. Instead of running, or crying to a teacher I stood, looking around apprehensively, occasionally glancing down at my sneakers before looking back up at him shyly.
"We… Well, I could just put a jacket on, that way nobody sees. I mean… it was an accident right?" I had managed to stutter out, watching him as he blinked and then nodded his head, shaggy hair bouncing against his neck, and forehead. It was an accident, I decided. He hadn't meant to grab me so hard, he had just gotten scared - he had said he wasn't used to being around people, maybe he'd thought that I was gonna' hurt him. I nodded to myself, and watched as he shrugged his big jacket off his shoulders, before wrapping it around me snuggly. The long sleeves were a bit suffocating in the heat of August, but it was for the best people didn't see my bruises, they wouldn't understand that Jack hadn't meant to, and then he'd get into trouble. And I didn't want my new friend to get yelled at.
"So, where were ya' going?" I tried to break the silence, holding the jacket together with my hand, and tilting my head at him, my curiously peaked. My shoulders dropped when he shrugged, kicking at the grass with his shoe, like a deflating balloon. I bit my lip, standing, staring blankly at him for a few seconds, before turning on my heel to walk away, feeling rejected. He cleared his throat stopping me in my tracks, my foot skidded on the ground to a halt, and I turned excitedly awaiting his words. Jack jerked his head in the direction he'd been walking in before, gruffly mumbling to me a brief.
"C'mon, I'll show you." I followed behind him obediently, smiling wide, gapped front teeth masking the ghost of my tears.
