Title: Kiss That Girl
Author: Alexandra Bruderlin
Pairings: OC/OC, Syl/Krit, Zack?
Author's Notes: So, I couldn't get anything Christmasy out. I guess I'm not feeling very festive this year, so knock yourselves out with nine pages of fic :D Dedication - Love to Shannon and Jacey and Jaz :D Love you guys and I hope you're having a happy Christmas, a Damn fine summer and a Jolly New Year.
Note (31/10/05):The characters and pairings for this story were originally established by another author in another story - this was originally a prequel. I have since decided to take this story - and all pairings - and write this story how I envision it. I hope this way, it'll be a better fic.
So you can kiss that girl good-bye. So you can kiss this girl good-bye.
I felt wonderful, like I was floating. I close my eyes, and I'm swimming in a blue pool. I surface, water running down my face. Clouds, the Good Place. I see Eva, except she's got long brown hair. And she's with the Blue Lady. I want to scream for Eva and for the Blue Lady. . .
But, I ended up choking on my words, the impact of Glen's fist on my head. The bone of my skull buckles but does not cave in. I grit my teeth, wishing I could float again. Sue and two-year-old Maddy are hunched in one corner, behind a lounge chair. They are scared, waiting for their turn. We always take turns at this, no matter the cause or effect. The longer I stay conscious, continue standing up; he will stay away from them.
Glen's yelling brings me back to reality as I'm kicked several times. Yet, I still struggle to my feet. And wait for the final blow. It comes; the dull smack of his fist to my skinny little stomach. I double up, more out of habit that pain and huddle behind the couch.
I'm only a little girl.a little girl.no, I'm not just a little girl. I'm hardly even a girl. I close my eyes again.
This time, the colours are too bright for me. Everything is melting, slippery and making me feel sick. I reach to my poor head. The melting colours are wet, like paint. There's lots of red. Too much red. Like the night Eva died. Everything is spinning and there are blurred streaks of red and white before my eyes.
"Ally." Sue, my foster mother, is standing over me, cradling Maddy. "He broke her arm. Do you need to come to the ER with us?"
I stare at Sue, her red brown curls always hiding her bruises and scars. Not that anyone can stop Glen without Sue's consent. I shake my head and manage to stand, the feeling in my whole body down to the absolute minimum. All I can see on my torso is blood - legs, arms, clothes and I can feel the blood mingled with sweat on my face. I limp to the bathroom, with its tacky blue porcelain bath and sink, with huge red flowers splashed around, more like blood smears than some sort of appealing tile design.
I sit on the light blue toilet, holding a small mirror in one hand, a wad of toilet paper in the other. I slowly and methodically wipe the blood from my face, fingering the worst of the bruises and cuts. A chunk out of my cheek, from his wedding ring. It makes me look hideous and I smooth a piece of gauze over it, like it can be a replacement for the mutilated flesh. I am X5, I do not scar. It two days, my cheek will be back to its creamy and smooth self. But I cannot think like that. I am practically deformed today.
I sit on the toilet, hot sticky summer air blowing through the tiny window about me. My clothes feel too tight all of a sudden, and I lean over to run a bath. Glen has gone, back to the pub or the liquor store, where he can try and give his sorrows alcohol poisoning. The house is empty and I am left alone to take my cold bath - no one in this neighborhood has either hot water or air-conditioning, which sort of works itself out.
Washing the cuts and bruises makes me feel vaguely satisfied. I hold the sponge and soap in my hand, positively scrubbing my skin raw before I can even make myself feel clean. But my raw skin and clean cuts, the bruises littering my body stand out even more now - the ones on my ribcage are the worse of all - my chest and stomach are nothing but green, black, purple and yellow smudges. Pain rips across me every time I reach for the soap or the sponge. But it's not agony pain, it's like a good pain, one that I almost enjoy causing myself. I drop the soap, push away the sponge, just so I can feel the pain.
The pain makes me feel real, and it means I am normal. There is a girl in my class at school, her name is Gina. Her father hits her and she's not an X5, the Blue Lady doesn't come to her at night. Being hit makes me like Gina and Gina is Ordinary.
I climb out of the bath, wrapping myself in a huge, worn out cream coloured towel. I dry off, tugging a comb through my hair - longer now, past my shoulders, a weight I love. I let my hair hang loose, wet tendrils sticking to my back. It's a nice colour - a dull brown colour with natural streaks of light brown and auburn-like bits.
I gingerly tug on my dusty, blood stained t shirt and shorts, and creep to the bedroom Maddy and I share - a crib in one corner, my cot tucked behind the door, all my clothes kept in a laundry basket under my bed. My schoolbooks are stacked on the windowsill. It's a small, dull little room, with several cutouts pasted on the walls by Sue; mainly Winnie the Pooh, for Maddy. But over my bed, Sue's stuck colourful pictures of flowers and famous people. I don't know one from the other, but they are a comfort, because another girl at school, Katy, has the same pictures stuck on her books and desk.
I curl up on my bed, smelling the sheets, the blanket and the pillow; all scented with the vanilla soap bubbles that Sue uses to wash things in. I recognize it now; Zack used to smell of gunpowder, Syl used to smell of antiseptic (from all her time in psy-ops and in the infirmary) and Tawny used to smell of the coffee Lydecker sent with us, on long training missions. Not like the coffee Sue and Glen drink, that's different to Manticore coffee. I can't drink Ordinary coffee.
I squeeze my eyes shut, my mind totally blank. Just black. I feel isolated and .shattered. Like someone took my soul and smashed it up, like a broken mirror. God, why do I stay here? I could run away and maybe join the circus as a freak. Anything else has to be better than this. Even being on of the ones who stayed back at Manticore. Did Jondy and Mish make it out? Mish properly loved Jondy, like the love I read about in the Shakespeare books.
My legs won't move and I try to relax enough to sleep. The sleep comes in small fits. Balmy nights and beautiful white satin dresses. I can smell flowers. Someone is gripping me, hugging me, so I can't go. My brothers and sisters. I can't make out their faces but I relax, feeling safe in their arms. I want to cling tightly to them but my grip keeps slipping. I can see their eyes, their grins and hear their voices, their laughter.Zack, Max, Zane, Trey and Ben. Then, there is the Blue Lady, here with me. I try and look at her face; the most beautiful face on Earth and beyond. I try and beg her to take me away to the Good Place with Eva and Jack. But, as I grip her skirts, I almost cower; they feel coarse, like sandpaper. I cry noises at her.
I jerk awake in pain, as I'm half thrown, half dragged off my bed by Glen, who reeks of something - whiskey, I think Sue called it - so strongly, that I long to gag. The stench of the alcohol reminds me of something that I can't quite remember.
I kick my foot out and my hand shoots out, to regain my balance. My hand meets something solid - well, semi-solid - and after a split second, that object crumples like a tissue. Something wet and sticky coats my hand and arm, as I collapse back against the wall, hunching over.
Glen has his back to me, and is breathing shallowly, with short sob-like noises in between.
"Bitch," Glen spat at me, kicking me hard in the knee. "Broke my fucking nose."
I tensed up, frozen in that moment. Blood spurted from his nose, and I realize with some degree of mortification, that the stickiness of my arm and hand is not sweat or water from my hair, but Glen's blood. His eyes are wide with fury, His nose seemed almost flat. And his mouth was nothing more than a mean little dent in his face. With one hand cupped around his nose, Glen raises his other fist. I close my eyes as an explosion hit my skull. Please, Blue Lady, please...
I am something beautiful. I can see stars and rainbows. Nothing can touch me. I am shiny, glittery and cool. Drips slide off me. Not sweat or blood or tears. Something pure and brilliant. Not hot. Never ever hot or even lukewarm. I am light. I am clarity. I am an icicle, a princess of ice. Not blue, but white. I am white and cold.
My eyes open and I am alone. For a moment, I am still the icicle. Cold and smooth and perfect. Then the floodgates burst. My clothes and body are sweaty and revolting. Shards of remembrance hit me and the beating, the pain and the words are there. Making the air in the room heavy with something akin to regret. Or maybe pity.
I struggle to my feet, wincing and glancing at my right leg and bite back a sob. From my knee to my ankle, it is so tender than I know Glen tried to break my leg. My whole body aches, but not with good pain. With the worst pain of all. Is this how Eva and Jack felt when they went to the Good Place? Is the Good Place worth this?
I turn around and with a wave of nausea, I see blood staining the wall and carpet; it's my blood, I can smell it. And the house is silent; I can have a shower.
But something stops me in my tracks. The lingering smell of whiskey and I can remember it all. I can smell the black coffee, imprinted on my memory. I can see Tawny's eyes, glinting gold at me. His grin and his arms tightly around me. Kissing my cheek, crawling into bed with me - and Jace, and Krit. Jace, Krit and I were the smallest, and Tawny was one of the biggest, so he was always making sure our nightmares weren't too bad. Oh, Syl and Jack and Brin were just as small as we were, but Eva looked after them.
I open my eyes. I know Tawny didn't get out; I can't really think about him anymore because I'd cry and I'm not allowed to cry. Ever. Zack's orders.
I run the shower, climbing in fully dressed this time. I scrub at every available inch of flesh, not bothering to even try to clean my torso, the pain just too much for my eleven-year-old tolerance. I scrub until the blood red water runs clear and I then braid my hair tightly to my scalp, it's a liability and I won't wear it loose again. Ever. I peel off my wet clothes and try to rinse the blood off of them, but the stains had set. Even Sue's vanilla soap probably couldn't save them.
I found a relatively clean nightdress and pulled that on. My leg was so sore but I could walk on it; X5s learnt to deal. Like when Tinga broke her leg and Max set it, and Tinga walked four of the five kilometers home, unassisted. I crawl under the covers and sink into the lumpy mattress - in this case, the lumps are good, because they support my injured leg. I wish aspirin worked for me, but it doesn't. Neither do any other over the counter painkillers.
I lie straight in bed, hot and sticky but scared, if I unwrap some of my blankets, Glen will reappear. I will sleep to take me and it does. My nightmares are full of recollections of the last hour. His voice calling me all sorts of names - some I don't even know the meaning of, but I should because sometimes the kids at school call me the same names. I am nothing, utterly useless. I should die. I wish I could, but even two years on the Outside has taught me very little on matters of life, death, love and right and wrong. I don't truly understand what death is to Ordinaries. But to me, it's being with my brothers and sisters, being safe with the Blue Lady.
I'm stupid, a mistake. An ugly monster. A slut. I see red streaks and the Dog that attacked Syl. I see Psy-Ops and Dr Anselm. I choked until the light comes and there She is.but the Blue Lady's gown is even rougher than before and just reaching for her skirt. cuts up my palms
"Alexis." No, my siblings would call me Lex or Lexy. Not Alexis. Ali was one of the boys. "Ally."
Sue is standing over me, her face angry and tense. Light from the hallway spills into our room and I sit up, my blankets falling from around me. I gaze at my reflection in the windows, among the raindrops. I look nothing more than a haunted little girl.
"Yes?" I say in a soft voice. I can hear Maddy breathing from her cot, and I know she is already asleep. "Is Maddy okay now?"
"Maddy will be wearing a cast for six weeks; possibly more," Sue said in an even voice. "She's already asleep, so don't talk too loud."
"Oh, I'm glad she's okay," I hear myself say, peeling layers of sticky sheets and blankets off my sweat-sodden body.
"Alexis, what did you do to Glen?" Sue asks me. "He was in ER with a shattered nose, with a story that he got in a bar fight. When I asked him, all he mumbled that you had done this to him and he had adequately punished you."
I rub my eyes. "Um, he came in here.to talk and I sort of.fell off the bed and I tried to get my balance and I kind of kicked Glen in the nose. It was an honest accident. And yes, he did.punish me. I am really sorry," I whisper, my head aching.
"Oh. Okay then." Both Sue and I know that what I've just said is a fractured version of the truth. But if anyone in this house tells the truth, the warm blanket of security will be ripped off and they'll be exposed to the bitter cold of reality.
I always liked the cold.
"You are clumsy for an eleven-year old. As long as you have been punished for causing such an accident," Sue says in a blank voice. X5s are the most graceful beings on the planet. I am not clumsy. I completely refuse to be dubbed clumsy by anyone.
"I have been and yes, I am clumsy." I feel so tired. I shift my weight and my leg shoots with pain, my ribs contracting and I almost squeak with pain. Is this what it feels like to be crippled? No, this is far too painful. Colonel Lydecker would be so disappointed to know I was admitting pain from a beating. I should be taking nine billion times more than this before admitting to pain.
I should be defending myself.
"It's 2 a.m., Ally. You need to sleep; you're going to school in the morning." Sue kisses Maddy on the cheek and closes the door behind her. I lie back. Another hour of sleep and I'll be refreshed. But I have to stay in bed till at least am - Glen's rules.
I lie there, trying to doze, to get the Blue Lady back, just to do something. At around 4 a.m. (X5s have an excellent sense of time) I heard Glen stumble in, swearing and belching. Please, Blue Lady, don't let him come up here.remember, third time lucky? I am lucky, Glen slams a door, and he's gone to bed. And I manage a bit of sleep.
I am free and beautiful. I can not be harmed and I can escape anyone and everyone. No one will ever catch me and I can't take orders. My world is flowers and love. I am a butterfly.a flutter by.with huge wings of purples and pinks and yellows. So bright and lovely, that I am Peace.
The Breakfast Table. It is always awful. Glen is sober, Sue is scared and angry and I am silent. There is lumpy cereal for breakfast, like the old Manticore breakfast. Today it is porridge, and the milk is sour. Sue cannot cook and I have always wanted to try proper food like doughnuts, pop tarts, bacon and eggs, French toast, waffles and pancakes, like every other child in my class. But no.
I am dressed in some shorts and a t-shirt, my hair in a braid, to cover my barcode. I have a light blue hat crammed on my head. My leg is not half as sore as it was last night, but still has bad bruising. I would wear jeans, so no one asks questions, but my jeans are too tight and too small. Sue gave me some hissed demands to tell anyone asks about the bruises on my face, legs and arms to say I fell off my bike - which Glen pulled out from the shed yesterday. Damn, if I had actually ridden that rust bucket and fallen off, I would've lost my legs. But Glen said I could clean it up and ride it myself until Maddy grows into it. I agreed because it would be a pretty damn easy thing to do and it was something an Ordinary child would do.
"Aren't talking this morning, Alexis?" Glen booms, his mouth full of a raspberry jelly doughnut - all the doughnuts are his, no one else is allowed to even breathe on them.
"She's a sulky little madam," Sue said. "Stop pushing your cereal around, Alexis, and eat it."
I gaze at my foster parents - Sue, which her curly hair in a messy ponytail and a scowl on her face, along with a great many bruises. And Glen, with his swollen lump of a nose under a hunk of plaster tape stuff, his waxy moustache sticky with the jam and his grey eyes resentful.
"Sorry, Sue. I'm not feeling well," I lied, in a husky little voice. "I didn't get enough sleep last night."
"You'd better go to bed early tonight, then, Ally," Sue whisked away my bowl, placing a glass of milk on the table for me. "Drink your milk."
I swallow it in one gulp because I hate milk, 'specially now, after the Pulse - it was watered down and more grey-ish than white. Nicole, at school, brings natty little single serve bottles of milk and it's pure white. So maybe the milk Sue buys is some cheap alternative.
"You'd better go to school, Alexis. I liked school. Do you?" Glen demands, starting on a chocolate sprinkle doughnut.
"Yes, it's fun and I learn stuff," I say, eyeing a strawberry doughnut with bits of chocolate stuck on it. "Can I please have a doughnut?"
Glen and Sue looked at me. "Alexis," Glen started. "You just told Sue that you were far too sick to even finish your cereal. Now you are asking for some 'fun' food. Something is not right here. Now, either finish your porridge and then you might be able to have half of a doughnut. Or you may now go to school."
Sue and Glen watched me carefully. I picked up my books and my little bag, and scooped up my lunch money. "That cereal was rancid," I hissed. "They wouldn't feed that to rats, let alone a child." Glen rose before me, in fury. I scarpered, my sneakers pounding the pavement. I'll be killed when I get home. I remember when I came here, and Glen actually threw Sue down the stairs. It was scary.
My right leg buckled, pain shooting through my whole body as I crumpled onto the sidewalk, my books falling into the gutter. My palms and knees were grazed, but that never ever fazed. My chest tightened with pain and I sat there for a moment, trying to catch my breath. Everyone else working down the streets ignored me, the poor injured little girl stuck in a nightmare. Manticore was never ever this bad.
I heard the school bell ring and gathered up my books, half runny, half limping the last block, to the cold prison that was my school. I'm serious - Blackwell Street School was a correctional facility before the Pulse. It's a place where concrete rules. School reminds me of Manticore. Six huge grey brick buildings loom up out of concrete ground. No trees or grass. Just a rusted out jungle gym and a lot of metal rubbish bins.
My sneakers smack the lino as I climb the stairs to the third floor, where my class is. Sixth Grade. I could be doing advanced university courses but no. I'm in the Sixth Grade. Our door has a poster declaring 'Ms Wu and Sixth Grade' in bright colours, with wonky drawings of flowers, stars and my classmates. My one contribution to the poster is a small daisy, carefully drawn in pencil. No colour.
I push the door open and everyone is still talking and running around. Ms Wu looks at me and my bloody limbs.
"Oh, Alexis! What happened?" she comes over, concerned.
"I fell over," I say in a quiet voice.
"All those bruises?" Ms Wu's voice is like steel.
"No, I did that yesterday. Fell off my bike when I hit a rock." My eyes are wide and I look innocent. I am. I have done nothing wrong here. I am the victim. "Run along to the bathroom and clean up those knees. You know, Alexis, if you ever want to talk, just come and talk to Mr Bayne, the counselor or me -. We can help you, if you really need it. Oh, and when you come back - we'll be working on our spelling."
I nod and go down to the bathroom - a blue and grey room with twelve white sinks, twelve soap dispensers, twelve toilets and two paper towel dispensers - one at each end of the bathroom. I methodically pull three squares of paper toweling out, dampen it and wipe the blood from my knees and my palms. Six squares of paper towel for each knee and hand. Then I threw out the paper and moved towards the door.
Where there was an old security camera. And a grin spread across my face. In a very neat way, in a Spiderman-esque move, I crawled up the doorframe, balancing there, across the corner. I pulled the camera from the roof, leaving a patch of clean, white wall amongst the grey, peeling wall - only a small hole was left, from where the wires went.
It was only a small camera, and I slipped back to class. Luckily, Ms Wu was busy marking our Geography assignments, so I slipped into the classroom and crammed the camera into my desk - under last week's math homework, a History essay and three weeks of chocolate and bubble gum wrappers.
My mind wandered, as I wrote out my spelling. This wasn't like a Manticore classroom - people held whispered conversations, passed notes and Jerry was devouring a packet of M & Ms behind his books. Gina saw me looking around and gave me a small smile. I smiled back, before focusing on my notebook. My handwriting looked more like something from a computer printout. Lydecker forced us to practice our handwriting until it was practically a computer font.
At 10:15, after an hour of working on spelling I'd memorized when I was three, Ms Wu motioned for Katy to stand up. Katy is so beautiful - curly blonde hair and beautiful coloured miniskirts.
"Today is Katy's twelfth birthday and she brought a cake to class, to share with all of you. Now, Katy, can you divide the cake into.lets see, thirty five slices," Ms Wu smiled.
Katy nodded and I saw the wonderful cake - it was chocolate, with yellow coloured icing and beautiful pink and white sugar roses. When she offered a slice to me, I took a tiny piece, nibbling in it. Even three years outside of Manticore hadn't accustomed me to more than two meals a day or things like cake.
Katy then told us that her mum had made the cake and would pass on all the compliments. I wish I knew my birthday. Because I don't, I only celebrate Christmas, sort of. And Sue would never ever make or buy me cake for school.
I go to the bathrooms during recess, the one in E Block, where no body goes - it's gross. Graffiti, broken sink and toilets. In winter, girls use it to smoke. But it's too hot at the moment.
I curl up on one of the blue benches. I am nobody. I am useless. A freak. I am a freak. I am a nothing in this world. A nothing. I wanna be with Eva and Jack in the Good Place. I wanna be back at Manticore. Manticore was safe and, at least we were together. I am dying here. I want to die, what use am I alive?
Who am I? What am I? A monster, a freak. I'm practically a robot. This time, I cannon stop the tears that are rolling down my face.
