Jack's Place 10: Alright
"Emma, honey?"
The woman's voice triggered a lapse in all sound or movement in the apartment. Emma couldn't manage to look up from the floor. Her floor. Still covered in blood. Her heartbeat shot up rapidly as she looked at the remnants of the murder that occurred just a day ago. What was she going to do? What could she do?
"Emma?"
She shot up quickly, dropping the sponge to the floor in her haste. Her legs shook as she clambered to the door, pressing her palms against the surface to steady herself. Her voice, however, remained shaky.
"Ms. Johnson?" her voice could barely escape her throat.
"Oh, Emma, I thought you'd be home," there was a lengthy pause in which she could just imagine the older woman sputtering for words. "Can-can I come in?"
Her eyes flickered back to her tarnished floor.
"I... I'm kind of busy right now," she stuttered, "Maybe... some other time."
"Just for a minute, dear, I just want to talk."
She calmed her breathing, opening the door a fraction to look at the older woman. Ms. Johnson was staring at Emma tentatively, a faltering smile on her wrinkled face. She seemed to have come over for a specific reason that made her uncomfortable, and Emma felt a newer form of apprehension in seeing her like this. She slipped out of her doorway a little awkwardly, closing the door behind her.
"Can we talk in the hallway? It's just kind of a mess in there." Her voice wavered slightly, but she covered it with a hiccup of a laugh.
Ms. Johnson stared at her intently for a moment, looking her over up and down with a weird look of pity that Emma couldn't quite understand. Her mouth opened a fraction then shut again.
"It's a bit sensitive, dear." She spoke slowly and waited for the younger woman to invite her into her apartment. Then, seeing that Emma had no intention of doing so, she spoke again. "Or… my apartment, if you don't mind? I'd rather we talk in private."
"Um," she stuttered, not sure what Ms. Johnson would need to talk to her about so urgently though a thousand thoughts ran through her head on the subject. "Of course."
The older woman started walking to the stairway, looking back to ensure Emma was following. "Aren't you going to lock your door, honey?"
"Wouldn't make a difference."
Emma found herself in the older woman's apartment, sitting in an overstuffed couch, holding a mug of tea while the resident of the apartment rummaged through the kitchen for sugar and milk. She took her hair down from its neat bun on top of her head On her hand's way down from her head, she saw that her hands were slightly tinged red from her attempts at cleaning her apartment floor. Ms. Johnson walked into the room, finding Emma scrubbing her fingers against her t-shirt.
The older woman let out a tittering laugh. "What have you been doing up there?"
"Just a little cleaning, must have…scrubbed too hard or something."
Ms. Johnson placed a bowl of sugar down on the table and sat down across from Emma. She nursed her own mug of tea between her wrinkled hands, tapping a finger against the brim.
"It's been a while since you've been in here."
She looked at her cup of tea, avoiding eye contact. It had been a few months since she'd last seen the older woman. She usually came by every month, but the appointment kept slipping her mind due to the somewhat strenuous turn her life had taken.
"Yeah, I'm sorry. I've been busier than usual."
The older woman's face crinkled into a warm smile. "It's alright, dear. Just miss the company is all." Her smile faltered for a moment and she looked at Emma contemplatively, as if she had something very important to say but didn't know exactly how to phrase it. "But you've got Jack to fret over now, I suppose. He told me that you two were seeing each other."
Emma sputtered into her tea. The older woman let out a small laugh and handed her a handkerchief.
"No worries, Emma. There are no rules against tenants dating," the older woman attempted an understanding voice, but there was a strain in it.
"It's just… we're not. We're not dating." She punctuated the words with a bit of force, more defensively than she had intended. The older woman seemed to taken aback and Emma was left feeling as if she'd offended her.
"Either way… there's been some complaints." Ms. Johnson tutted as the younger woman opened her mouth to question her further. "Some people on your floor have called down about some… yelling. I didn't believe them when they named your apartment. You've always been such a quiet girl. I couldn't even imagine you making a peep, let alone the racket they've been talking my ear off about. I just wanted to talk to you. So you could, I don't know, explain?"
There was a pointed silence between them. Emma swirled the cup in her hands, avoiding Ms. Johnson's friendly but inquisitive eyes. There was a sharp terror building within her. So people had heard. What did they hear? How much had they heard? These faceless people complaining about noises while they were trying to sleep. Did they even know what was happening in her apartment? That there was a murder just one night ago? As they're concerned about the fighting lovebirds next door keeping them up at night, Elton was dead. If they knew that- well it would be a much different situation, she guessed. There'd be police. There'd be lawyers. There'd be handcuffs and electric chairs. She shuddered and looked back up at the woman in front of her.
Wasn't this an opportunity? Tell someone about Jack. Tell someone like Ms. Johnson. Sweet Ms. Johnson who would call the police and put another pot of tea on the stove. Jack would be arrested, she'd be able to get back to a mostly normal life. Then he'd get out. Kill her. Kill Ms. Johnson. Kill anyone who had ever talked to her. Anyone who had ever looked at her. She saw what he had done to Elton. Happy as ever with that knife in his hand.
"We just got into a little misunderstanding, is all." There was a frog in her throat that she cleared noisily, gulping down the rest of her tea though it scalded her mouth. "Won't happen again." She stood up rather suddenly, setting the mug down on the table and giving the older woman what she hoped to be a reassuring nod, but it happened to be a grimace.
"Emma. You know I don't mind a noise complaint. I wouldn't even bother other tenants with something like that. I just want to make sure everything is alright. That you're alright." Ms. Johnson stood up slowly, placing her mug down next to Emma's, old bones creaking in the silence that followed her words. She made her way over to the small girl who had wrapped her arms tightly around her waist. Then she hugged her.
A really simple symbol of affection. Commonplace to most people, but not to Emma. The action unraveled the girl. A steady stream of tears flowed from her eyes, gathering into the old woman's sweater. They stayed like that for a time, Emma holding herself tightly and Ms. Johnson holding her tighter.
It was seven at night before she left the older woman's apartment. There was a shaky truce between them in which Emma had begun to say something and the older woman had hushed her and told her she wouldn't say anything to Jack. She imagined that Ms. Johnson figured it was just some sort of lover's spat that could be solved with a few soothing words and an understanding shoulder. She hated thinking that the woman thought of her as some weeping girl, with a boyfriend that just didn't understand her. But she also knew she couldn't tell Ms. Johnson the truth. So, she had to pretend it was a small fight between a boy and a girl. Everything was fine. Everything was normal.
Her eyes were puffed and red, raw from the tears, as she walked up the stairs. Though she felt a great relief the further she got from the old woman's apartment. As if that exchange had lifted a weight from her shoulders that she hadn't known was there.
It could have been that she hadn't seen Jack almost all day. Which could have meant that he had decided to lay low for a while. After murdering someone in front of her, it did seem like a good idea to stay away. To not send her into such a state of shock and disgust that she was liable to do something regrettable. Well, it would have been a lot to ask from him, but she still managed a silent prayer that he wouldn't be waiting for her in her apartment. Another victim tied to a chair. Another night of manic foreplay before he decided to just off her, seeing as she was such a big headache for him.
He was leaning against her door. Her head was so foggy from the past few events that the whole moment was surreal, she almost felt as if she were in a dream. As if she could walk right through him and into her apartment. He wasn't there. His sharp voice rang out and she couldn't even hear it.
"Emmmmmmmaaaaaaaaaa," he said a fraction louder this time, waving a hand in front of her face. "You left your door unlocked, doll. Don't know what kind of crazies could stumble in there. Lucky I'm a gentleman, thought I'd wait out here for my doll."
She reached around him for the doorknob. He swatted her hand away with a pout. "We both know the cold shoulder never works out for you, dollface. So let's start the game over again so I don't lose my temper." His hands tried to grab her shoulders, but she slipped away from him, finally looking him in the eyes. Her jaw locked and her heartbeat accelerated in an instant.
"Don't. Touch. Me." she managed through gritted teeth.
If she had hoped for this to throw him at all, it didn't. He merely looked at her with a mixture of boredom and contempt before placing his hands up defensively. "Sure, doll. No touching. Emma wants to play victim a little bit longer." He closed the distance between them, but maintained far enough so that they didn't so much as graze one another. There was a sickening smile spread across his face, and she almost wanted to look away from him but couldn't. "Which makes me the villain. Not that I'm complaining. 'Do what you're good at' I always say." He let out a shrill laugh. "But now that old Elroy isn't here, who will be our knight in shining armor? Hm-"
"I'm not playing the victim, Jack. I'm not playing anymore."
He grabbed her face, too quick for her to move out of his reach again. "Well, it looks like you've been busy. Crying. Sobbing to old Ms. Johnson downstairs about old Jackjack." His voice became gruff, all gravelly and violent and it made her sick. "About how I just don't treat you right. How I'm just working too much and poor Emma's just so lonely."
"I didn't say anything like that," she stated shortly. "Now let me go back to my apartment and clean your mess."
He looked down at her for a moment in deliberation, his other hand raised up to cup his chin as his finger tapped gently against his cheek. "Well, if you didn't say anything like that, well… what did my Emma say to our beloved old landlady? Hm?" His hand tightened a fraction around her face, earning a sharp intake of breath from her that seemed to goad him on. "Did my bird go off and sing? Tell Ms. Johnson all about Jack? Thought you would have learned by now, but it seems you're not that quick."
He dropped his hand from her face, shifting his weight from his left to right foot and back again as if readying himself for a race. "Now I guess I have to go pay her a visit," he said, making his way to the stairwell.
"NO!" Emma's small hand grabbed his tightly. "Please, don't. Please."
He had stopped, but he hadn't turned around to look at her. He merely stood there, as if completely frozen. Her hand slipped from his quickly.
"Please. I didn't tell her anything. I swear. She just wanted to talk to me. Some people heard noises from my apartment. Called down. She just- she just wanted to make sure I was alright," her voice cracked. "Nothing else. She didn't do anything wrong."
He still hadn't turned around to face her, and that had made her more anxious than if he had grabbed her again. "Jack?"
"Alright," he said lowly. She waited for him to say more, but he didn't. He turned to his apartment and opened the door.
"Promise."
He walked into his apartment. "Alright." He closed the door.
She waited in the hallway for a few more minutes. Her mind would have been whirring, thinking of a million possibilities and ideas for his strange behavior. But, instead, there was a deep chasm in her brain where all her thoughts should have been. There was a lingering feeling of confusion. There was a much more resonate feeling of exhaustion, which led her back into her apartment.
The mess that was waiting for her doubled the feeling of exhaustion. She went to the kitchen to get her gloves when she noticed a bottle that hadn't been there before. Clorox. She looked to her door for a second, wondering if it had been Jack. Then, deciding that it was definitely Jack, wondering why. She popped the cap off and dumped a little into the bucket.
A/N: I am so, so, so, so sorry. I honestly didn't think it was going to be this long for me to update, and I just really feel horrible about it. If you're still around, I love you and thank you soooo much for putting up with my shit, haha. And, if there is anyone to thank for this chapter being up at all it's Rehaniah. She messaged me, and she was so very encouraging. Sorry for the wait, really. I promise that the next chapter will be up soon.