OMG, who watched the finale tonight?! Feel free to PM me your thoughts, guys. Wild stuff.
"One of the oldest questions man has been exploring in literature, is whether or not a monster is born or created. When you think of famous monsters, who do you think of? Frankenstein? Dracula?" Today's English class was a conjoined seminar with sophomore psychology. Mr. Fitz was in the midst of a very compelling question/ lecture, and most of the class was asleep- "How about just plain old villains? Who then? Voldemort? The common thing with these characters, is that although they are the villains, do you ever feel sympathy for them? There must be some quality about them that makes them undeniably human- undeniably like yourself? But what makes someone evil? Their actions?"
He awaits a response, but the class is silent. Everyone shifts in their chair, unsure how to respond- except for Aria, who was pretty much staring at him like she was ready to grab him by the tie and screw him right there on his desk. It was an interesting question- but I was as lost as everyone else. What makes a person evil? Yes, it is their actions, but... Is it their reasoning?
"Who here has read Lolita?" He asks- six or so hands slowly rise, one of them being Aria's. Ezra nods, "Humbert Humbert was a villainous protagonist- what made him evil? What made him the villain of his own story?"
Aria's hand shoots into the air, a very strained expression on her face. Over my shoulder, I glance at Spencer; giving her an Aria's totally obvious look, and she snorts in response.
"Yes, Aria," He calls on her, Adam's apple bobbing. Wow. I wonder if the sexual tension is only evident because I know, or is everyone including Bridgette Wu totally onto them?
"He's the villain of his own story because of his perversions." She answers, tucking a lock of hair behind her ears. "He loves Lolita, even though it's wrong and he knows it."
Incredibly weird.
"Right," He says, "Humbert Humbert is the villain of his own story because of his very nature. He's conscious of it, and he loathes himself because of it. This guilt, these emotions is what makes him raw- this is what attaches you to him, despite your own disgust with the situation. That's what makes the novel such a work of art, because it
pushes you to care for someone you don't want to. Who here has seen American Psycho?"
I can't raise my hand to this one either, although I'm vaguely familiar with the idea. Some murderer, or something. Was that the one where he's hiding behind the shower curtain, and you can see his shadow?
"Patrick Bateman is a bit of a different story. A classic, nonetheless- but we don't watch it for him. We don't feel attached to him- we watch it for what he does. Because, let's be honest- he's a jackass. This breeds the next question; why is it in our own human nature to feel curious about a murderer? Why do we want to see him unravel? Is it because we, ourselves, have some primal connection to evil? Is there something just, so fascinating about watching someone take another's life? Why do we feel adrenaline watching it?"
Someone calls out, "Because it scares us?"
"Maybe," Ezra replies, nodding, "But what drives us to want to watch it?"
Silence. I can't believe Spencer hasn't spoken up yet, debate is her forte- looking back at her, I see her with her brow furrowed- she is really running it over. She's getting there.
"The most important question though, is what compells a person to do evil things? Character or not, the ideas must begin somewhere, right?"
He stands, hands out to the classroom, sweeping for a response. How does a person become evil? It's not something I've ever really given a lot of- or maybe any- thought to. I think it's similar to the question as to why anyone does anything at all. Emotions. Gut feelings. Maybe?
"Spencer?" Ezra nods at her- there we go. I turn to look at her speak, to which she says one word; "Pain."
"Interesting. Care to explain your reasoning?"
"Well," She begins slowly, as if testing the words on her tongue, "Experience shapes pain. You begin to act against things that bring you pain. Especially in developmental years. Cognitive development in a child, essentially in children between the ages two to seven will hold the greatest key factors for their life, according to the Piaget theory. This is where they will learn their basic interaction skills, and where subconsciously they shall look back as they grow into an adolescent in looking for an appropriate way to respond to a current situation."
They guy beside me is scratching his head profusely in confusion. She may as well be speaking Pig-Latin. Spencer goes on, anyway, "Adapting is entirely a solitary thing. Some people may be able to recognize that perhaps they grew up in a very hostile environment- therefore react to situations defensively- and they could make a change. Some people don't. And, if someone is brought up in all of the right negative factors- neglect, et cetera- you could have the perfect recipe for a child to become a sociopath, and they shall perform as one."
"So, you're saying," Ezra paces to the chalkboard- drawing the words PAIN and NURTURE in capitalized, yellow writing, "That ones upbringing is solely the culprit for evil actions?"
"Yes," Spencer nods, "I believe surroundings shape the life of an individual."
Everyone experiences pain, I think to myself, why aren't we all killers?
Tentatively, I raise my hand into the air. Ezra grins, "Yes, Miss Fields?"
"What if it's both?"
Mr. Fitz's expression becomes blank, "Both of what?"
"What if," I try again, realizing that my statement really didn't make any sense, "a monster is both born and created?"
Slowly, his mouth lifts, like he'd just struck a goldmine or something, "Any reasoning behind this thought?"
"Spencer's right," I say- god, how will I explain what I mean? "About you know, acting against pain, upbringing... People don't want to get hurt. But, aren't mental illnesses genetic?"
Aria interjects, "Research says yes."
Casting my eyes downward, I continue, "I don't really know a lot about this kind of stuff. But, I think it would be more of a combination. Someone was missing something as they grew up- attention, or something- and they'll find a way to get it when they grow up. But I think some people have to have a certain something else to actually kill someone. To act evil."
PAIN + NATURE VS NURTURE?
"So this is the recipe?" He asks, and suddenly I'm not so sure. It can't be that simple, despite the infinite, respective combinations of pain, nature, and nurture there could be. There is an overwhelming complexity in the whole picture- there must be a pyramid of reasons why I am Emily Fields and not Spencer Hastings. Maybe that's not the best way to describe it. Maybe it is. I don't know anything.
Fitz went on, but I was still stuck on the one question. What makes someone a person? It all starts when someone is a baby, right? That makes sense? Babies first learn how to love and care for things- toys, blankies, mommy and daddy. They first learn what it is like to be loved, but they probably don't know it, because they're babies. When things get taken away from them, they cry, right? That's how you can tell if they love something. But what about the babies that get neglected and have to sleep in a dirty diaper, or get dropped off at some overpopulated orphanage? Those kids are the ones that grow up and end up being the people who carve slurs into bus seats and wear heavy eye makeup, and talk back to the teacher's for no reason at all- or they're mutes. Yeah? The troubled kids with the tragic backstory? But this doesn't make psychopaths- not always, at least. What makes someone pick the wings off of flies or go kill stray cats? It can't be boredom. Or it is. It's boredom and it's something else.
Why am I me? I don't even know what I'm like. Am I kind? Am I quiet? Am I charismatic at all? Once, when I was just a kid- six or seven, my mom took me to the national park.
"Mom?" I asked, absolutely fascinated by an anthill in the dirt. My dad was with us that day- it was his last day home before he would be deployed again, but I still had yet to fully understand what that meant.
"Yes, honey?" She replied, turning- and then surprised by how far behind I'd fallen as I'd stopped walking aside them. "Stay with us, dear! Come here!" She calls, an expression somewhere between worried and embarrassed.
Fear quickly surged through my body as I understood the fact that I may be in trouble for not staying next to my parents. Mom always told me not to stop if we're ever walking somewhere- last time I did, I'd gotten a very stern talking to. Hurrying, I caught up to my parents- thankfully, mom wasn't too uptight with dad around.
"Why are ants important?" I inquire, as I watch a group of teenagers up ahead toss a water bottle back and forth. They seemed so rowdy and powerful.
My dad chuckled, "Why are ants important?"
"Yeah," I say, "There's so many of them, and they don't do anything."
Dad appeared thoughtful, while mom looked troubled. After a few steps, he answered, "They're food for other things."
"Like spiders?" I scrunch up my nose in disgust.
"Well, yes," Dad laughed, "But I meant more like frogs."
"So they're only important because they're food?"
Dad shrugged, "Everything is food, Emmy. Ants are food for frogs, frogs are food for birds, birds are food for lions."
"There are no lions here."
Dad grins, holding out one of his big, calloused hands, "Come here, Emmybear."
I grab onto his hand and he swoops me up, puts me on his shoulders, and I squeal in glee- despite the fact that the ant question is still bothering me, deep down. Mom quickly chimes in, "Careful with her, Wayne!"
"Ahh, she's fine," My dad laughs, giving me a reassuring squeeze around one ankle, "You're right, Emmy. There are no lions here."
"So the ants aren't important?" I'm glad the topic was brought up again- I was entirely unsatisfied.
"Everything is important."
"There's more ants on Earth than people," How could something so small- with so many of them- be important? They were easily replaceable. "If I killed all the ants I could see, it wouldn't make a difference."
Before I knew it, I was about ten minutes behind the lecture and experiencing an existential crisis. On the board, by the original chalk words, now lay some lines pointing to
UPBRINGING, TRAITS, and TO ACT AGAINST ONE'S SELF.
Uncomfortably, I could no longer follow along nor did I care to- my mind felt vexed. Checking my watch, I see it's 11:54. Thank God. Only fifteen more minutes until lunch.
"That was so stimulating!" Aria crooned, after the period ending bell had rung, "Ezra really got me thinking."
"I'm sure he did," I tease, winking at her. Spencer laughs, "Yeah," Playfully, she pokes at the tiny girl's arm, "Really sexy thoughts."
"Hey!" Defensively, she swats Spencer's hand away, "Keep your voice down."
Spence and I share an amused look, following the flow of peers from our English room down to the Junior student wing, where Ali and Hanna are already waiting. Hanna looks entirely sullen- as she has all day. Not even returning my hello this morning, which gives me the sneaking suspicion that she is thinking there's something more going on with Caleb having the watch than the truth. The truth was that I had absolutely no fucking clue how Caleb ended up with my watch- but I'm just as curious to know. Not that I've had a chance to explain our shared bewilderment, given my lack of chances. There would be something rude and desperate about trying to explain through text, but same goes for public confrontment. Awkward. A little bit rude. A lot of unnecessary drama. I'll wait until we have some alone time.
"Hey girls!" Ali chirps as we approach, "Han and I made the best fried banana melts in foods today," She gives the other blonde a slight bump of the hip, "Sorry we didn't save you guys any. Han was really chowing down today, but they were delish. Maybe we could make them next get together?"
The passive dig at Hanna rippled throughout the group like a high octave sound wave- present, for sure, and everyone squirmed as it passed their ears but pointing it out was kind of useless. Hanna rolled her eyes. We all found out ways to ignore the comments as they came.
"Sounds..." I croak, moving on, "nice? What're they serving for lunch today, does anyone know?"
"I think there's leftover mystery meat from Friday." Spencer replies unsurely, which causes Aria to quake. "Skip it. It's probably more mystery than meat by now."
"That's horrifying," One would expect more from Rosewood High. Although, we really shouldn't... Rosewood is all for looking good on the outside but being all rotten on the inside, it's like the unsaid motto. "Well should go somewhere else, then?"
"Alright, ladies," Ali hums happily, sliding in beside Aria and Hanna on the opposite side of the very cramped booth at Dairy Queen. All I ordered were some onion rings- the talk of fried banana melts earlier had given me a very guilty grease craving. Entwining her fingers, the blonde rests her chin against the back of her hands, "I have some very exciting news."
"Do tell," Aria prods, removing her fry pocket from the brown paper bag. I pluck one from her, and she furrows her brows at me fervently. Shooting her a sheepish grin, I hastily pop the fry into my mouth and return my attention to Ali, whom was clearly waiting.
Once eyes were on her, she waggles her brows, "I know of a party we can attend."
"Is it one of Noel Kahn's beer chugging festivals?" Spencer asks dryly, stirring the straw of her milkshake. However, at the mention of his name Ali's face drops into a scowl, which the brunette doesn't seem to notice, "Because despite how much I love watching a bunch of gorillas take rounds on a beer bong, I'd rather not."
"No." Ali answers quickly, "I'm talking about a real party. No more baffoons."
If Noel Kahn's shindigs didn't count as real parties, I'm not sure I want to know what a real party must be. Because usually a whole bunch of dirty, drunk pigs was enough for me to want to leave. But, then again- maybe a real party consisted of a bit more than that.
"Where is it?" That's the first I've heard from Hanna today.
"Old Hollis," Ali replies quickly, signature, smug look plastered on her face.
Old Hollis? What an odd place- it made my gut tingle with what could be known as good sense- even though it was referred to usually as Pam-Fields-Paranoia, Em.
"How'd you get invited?" Screw the Pam-Fields-Paranoia, that seems sketchy to me.
Ali shrugs, "One of Jason's friends."
"Ew," Spencer immediately dismisses, while I at the same time counter with, "So one of Jason's sleezy college friends invite you to some party? Yeah, that sounds real safe, Ali."
The blonde groans in exasperation, "Em, it was one of his girl friends."
Hanna pipes in, "Well, I'm in." Followed by a shrug. Ali beams, and embraces Hanna in a tight hug. Biting my lip, I look down at my little bracelet and swirl it around, skin burning.
"See?" Ali crows gleefully, "Hanna knows how to have a little fun!"
"Yeah," Hanna echoes, sounding lost. At that moment, I look up to see her peeking at me, eyes narrrowed.
Alright, this has got to be straightened out- and fast.
A deep sigh leaves Spencer beside me, "You two will need a chaperone. I can tell."
"Never trust Hanna with booze," Aria jokes- of course, she's referring to the time Hanna tried to pick a fight with Becky from AP History, for no reason at all other than the fact that Hanna was boozed up and the girl dissed Nicki Minaj- when she wasn't even having a conversation with the poor girl. She'd just overheard.
"Hanna?" Ali purrs, casting a sideways, troublesome glance in my direction, "I think Em's the one we have to worry about."
Yikes.
My chest shrivels up in shame, and I laugh nervously. The constriction in the air around us became very evident- the "too soon" factor must've been in play in everyones minds, because it sure was in mine. Hanna appeared taken aback, but undoubtedly satisfied with the criticism, which basically confirmed my theory that she seriously must think that Caleb and I had something going on.
"Drinking isn't for me," Diffusing the tension wasn't really working. I clear my throat, "So, when is it?"
"Saturday. Does this mean you're in?"
"I..." Am I? "Guess?"
Ahh, crap. I really don't want to. But knowing Ali, she's going whether or not we are- so may as well join. It might be a good time for a talk...
Aria points a fry accusingly at me, what? "You will still help me with that thing on Sunday, right?"
Thing? What thing? Crap, Hanna is really throwing daggers over there. I don't want to look even more horrible by admitting that I forgot about whatever thing I must've said I'd help her with.
"Of course!" I emphasize, hastily stuffing a onion ring into my mouth, "Uh-huh." Nodding. Sorry, Aria. I have no clue what you're talking about. I'll still help, though.
Aria narrows her eyes, "Even if you're hungover?"
"Hopefully I won't be." And that's the truth.
Puffing out her cheeks, Aria slumps over in her corner- parties weren't really her thing, "Well, if all of you are going, I'll go, too."
This causes Ali to squeal, "Yes!"
"Han?" Spencer interrupts, "Are you alright over there? I don't want to ask if you need a tampon, but you look a little... really pissed."
"Fine." Hanna presses a tight smile, "I'm just fine."
She's seething.