Fandom: Victorious
Title: Cade One-Shots
Topic: Motherly Love
A/N: This one-shot is requested byThe Doctor (Guest). Thanks for the suggestion; I will try to update as regularly as possible, but working five days a week will be slow. I will try to use suggestions as they come in, but if one inspires me before another, I will use that first. If you want to suggest a topic, leave a review or PM me here or on Twitter Mileycfan4eva. Please let me know if you want a friendship or romance or if it doesn't matter. Thanks to everyone who leaves a suggestion; as usual, I don't own these characters. They would belong to Nickelodeon and Dan Schneider; if I did own Victorious, Cade would be canon. Mild Cursing in this fic, so please be aware.
"Are you happy now, Jadelyn? You embarrassed my good name among all my friends and colleagues in Beverly Hills."
My father, Larry West, stands in the doorway of his 3.8 million dollar mansion, arms crossed over his chest, his green eyes burning with their traditional look of disgust as they travel over my entire body. He can't stand me, never could. His hatred only burned brighter as I grew into a teenager and experimented with my sense of style. Today's outfit really sets him into a furry. There isn't one part of it he can stand with a 100% clarity. I can tell he hates my dyed raven black hair, which spirals to my waist. A few strands have bright colors, purple, pink, and blue.
Lying against my face, the darkness accentuates my pallid skin tone and brings out the steel Grey of my turquoise eyes, which are emphasized by my dark blue and purple eye-shadow and black mascara. The blood-red lipstick brings out the curve of my top-heavy lips. My dad's eyes travel to my dress; it's a black pleated spaghetti strap with silver moons and stars; chains dangle from my hips and shoulders, all attaching at my waistline. The dress splits between my breasts, clinging to each of my double D cups elegantly. My smooth-toned ivy legs are displayed for a few eye strokes before my knee-high Prada Monolith Boots cover them.
Amazingly, he can muster up any expression on his botoxed face. "Oh, father dear, I would apologize to you sincerely that my almost dying caused you the utmost of embarrassment, but frankly, I don't give a damn, and before you scold me, father-dear. Let me remind you, if it weren't for you so carelessly leaving your prescription pad in plain sight, this wouldn't have happened, so if you're looking for someone to blame for this scandalous affair, look in the mirror, daddy dear; cause you only have yourself to blame."
"Jadelyn Louise West, don't you dare put your mental disorder or your psychological dysmorphia on me; you've been a dysfunctional obsessive bipolar headcase all your entitled life."
"You are disgusting. Your piercings make me sick." "Aw, daddy, how dare you to insult my pride and joys; I got them with you and mommy dearest in mind. Just like my tattoos."
"You're a demented malevolent and need some serious help."
"Screw you."
"God damn it, Jadelyn, watch your nasty mouth, or I swear on Jesus's name; I will smack you into the next century." My father advances toward me. His $1,070 Dolce & Gabbana oxford shoes angrily slap over the cobblestone steps. Behind him comes his wife, Elizabeth Mountbatten-Windsor -West. The witch is barely ten years older than I am. One look at her, and I feel my blood boiling. Elizabeth is used to living a lifestyle of affluence. Her dress costs more than my Lexus. The second in line for the throne of England, Elizabeth is accustomed to living at the highest level of wealth and prestige, so my recent fall from grace has caused her a world of scandal and wrath from the Royal family, especially since it happened two days before the Queen of England's death.
Why she cares, though, is beyond my reason of comprehension. After all, she's made it clear I am not now or will ever be her family. In her eyes, I am not even worthy of the title of a sister to her only biological child, Kensington William Jagger Mountbatten-Windsor-West. He's seven years old.
"Image is everything, Jadelyn; your actions have consequences. You've brought shame to this family; the entire world has seen you fall off that damn table into the pool arse first with no knickers on. It's all anyone will talk about now, so think before you speak, or you will find out what screw you means, you reckless imp."
Spinning on my $3,195 twelve-inch heals, my boots have belted straps, push lock pouch accents, and laced vamp zippers on the sides. They click loudly against the steps scrapping the cobblestone, echoing an eerie wail that goes perfectly as I hold up both middle fingers as I walk towards my car.
Pressing the button on my keychain for my 2023 ox 250h premium black Lexus, I hear their shocking gasps, making my lips twist into a smile. "Eat that, princess," I mumble. I'm Like a serpent in the garden. You piss me off. You never know where I am going to rise and strike. I am authentic permanently, and to some people, it means I am darkness, pure evil, but the truth is I can be an angel or a demon. It all depends on how you treat me.
Who do they think they are to treat me like I am a disease when they are half my problem? How dare they judge me and condemn me? My heart pounds like a million hammers of impending death. My throat is dry, and it feels like my heart is stuck inside the trachea, not allowing me to inhale or exhale. Breathing is too damn hard at this moment. Climbing into my car, I slam the door and scream.
"Fuck!
Why do they hate me? My dad created me. Without him, I wouldn't exist. He's supposed to love me unconditionally, take my hand and guide me into this world, showing me encouragement and self-confidence. Parents are supposed to praise their daughters, urge me to love myself, and build my character. They are supposed to make us feel safe, not destroy our self-worth. Dads are supposed to stand on their porch with a shotgun, ready to shoot the boy who threatens their daughters.
They are not supposed to use the damn gun on their own daughters.
"Fuck!"
I slam my fist against the console before jamming the key into the hole and tearing out of the driveway. Stones and dirt fly out of my tires; turning the dial to the maxim volume, the music makes my speakers vibrate as I peel down the street. Anger builds inside my veins; why did my mom die, leaving me with him? She knew how evil he was. It's why she divorced him and fought for custody of me. So why did she kill herself, leaving me to rot in his hands? Did she not love me after all?
"Why?" I scream out, kicking the floor of the car. "Why did you leave me?" I can't cry, but I want to. I know so many feelings need to escape, but I am paralyzed. I have reached a dangerous speed for a residential neighborhood, and I know I should slow down, but I don't care. I must feel the wind ripping through my hair as I drive ferociously. Everything is a blur. Houses blend with stop signs, and roads become obscure, blinded by the tears which have sprung to my eyes, burning my orbs with salty rage.
I can't remember when I didn't drink to numb my pain, and I can't recall when drinking led me to smoke weed or take hits of cocaine, but I can recall how they all left me feeling beautifully numb.
It's too hard without these substances, too hard to breathe, live, think, feel, act, and exist. It's too damn hard to be alone. Why did she leave me alone? Mothers are supposed to equip our girls with the right tools and knowledge to thrive and survive in this technology-oriented world. She should have been here to teach me I am GOOD ENOUGH
to install self-confidence and unconditional love for myself.
I grew up with lots of limiting beliefs, and I know the struggle of the constant fight with self-doubts. My dad doesn't want me to follow my dreams because he thinks I don't have the potential in them to fulfill my ambitions. I needed my mother here to tell me he was wrong and that I have the talent and drive to achieve anything I dream of chasing. I face judgment everywhere I go because of how I look and speak. Society is obsessed with finding faults. No one is here to remind me of my good qualities. Maybe my dad's right, and I possess nothing good. It's easy to believe the worst when no one is here to remind you otherwise.
External beauty fades, but the inner beauty remains till we die. Well, what happens when your soul is ugly and already withered up and dead? The special bond between a father and a daughter is often discussed, but for a girl, the support a mom can provide is immense. There are many things in life that she can confide in her mom.
A girl goes through many challenging stages in life, including the surge of hormones and pregnancy. She can go through a lot of emotional turmoil when facing life-changing events like breakups and divorce. I've gone through all my milestones with no support from either of my parents. One chose death over me, and one decided everyone and everything else over me. No one told me about sex; I learned it all from the internet and school, peers more than teachers. I discovered my sexuality through trial and error. The first time I had sex was when I was fourteen with Beck Oliver, my now ex-boyfriend. He was more experienced, and I didn't know how to say no or ask him to stop.
He hurt me so badly even though he didn't mean to; he tried to be gentle, but I wasn't ready and had no one to tell me it was okay to say no or ask him to slow down or that I didn't have to have sex to prove my love for him. It is hard enough for a girl or a woman when all these hormones are raging inside her, creating mood changes and other symptoms. Women deal with stress differently from men. Women like to talk about our problems, and that's how we find stress relief. The only person I could ever speak to was my best friend, Cat, but she was so innocent and naïve. How could I talk to her about feelings and experiences she's never experienced? It took me a long time to understand my body was my own, and I could say no to someone touching me. Childhood sexual abuse is more common than we think. No one has ownership of it except me. And it's my choice and decision about who should touch my body and who shouldn't.
"Bitch." Beck's first words when I finally told him no one-night last month when he was drunk. I covered my ears and closed my eyes just long enough to stop the noise as he threw the beer bottle against the wall, shattering it into a million little sharp shards. I was a bitch because I dared to draw my line to my rights over my body.
Girls are talkers. We like to talk about what happened in school and the little troubles we face. No matter how busy a mom is, they are always supposed to find time to look in our eyes when we talk and truly listen. Cat's mom tried with me when she was home, but she travels so damn much she's hardly ever home, and when she is, I feel guilty taking away her time with Cat and her older brother Daniel.
A parent's anger issues affect children badly. Research shows that yelling makes kids aggressive and insecure, develops anxiety, and has low self-esteem. Thank You, Daddy, for all my self-esteem issues. When he got angry, it became impossible for me to confide in him when I made mistakes. So I've learned to correct my errors or not make them. Perfection is a dangerous game, but one I've learned to master.
"You are a worthless whore, Jadelyn, a shameful regret, a mistake which should have been aborted." The night before, what should have been my ultimate act, the fight between my dad and me rang inside my ears. Even now, it gives me a damn headache.
"You contribute nothing of value to this family, a wasteful mound of flesh with no purpose other than to please a man. You're too damn skinny even to do that successfully. Not worth a penny. Don't even dream of receiving diamonds. Only beautiful, respectable women get diamonds."
"No one will ever love you, Jadelyn. You aren't even semi-attractive with all this ugly metal and branding. You've allowed people to degrade you with pure repugnances, like the drugs you keep ingesting. No wonder you open your legs for any pretty boy who compliments you. You're easy, and the truth is you do nothing. You have no talent except screwing. You screw every boy who tells you something nice, and now you've screwed your future. What do you think you will do with a baby, Jadelyn? You're a child yourself. You're in an inefficacious school and have no way to self-support yourself; how do you plan to support yourself and a child when my money stops bank-rolling your self-sabotage exportation? Being an actor is a pipe dream. Even girls with actual talent have a low percentage of making it; guess where that leaves you?"
"Maybe we'll get lucky, Larry, and she'll overdose one day soon; it would save us money on an abortion and rehab trips which won't work because there are some damages which can never be repaired."
"Not to mention the PR cleanup, which will cost thousands."
"Don't waste your prayers, Elizabeth; Jadelyn is a screw-up. She'll even screw up overdosing. She thinks she's something special, somewhere between a mirrored illusion of perfection and fantasy of grandness; the reality is she's a twisted nightmare. Even Steven Spielberg wouldn't hire her. He creates horror but doesn't want a natural freak show."
"AHH!" I scream louder, my vocal cords bleeding as I press harder on the gas peddle, the wheels crunch against the black tar, as tears blind me—my chest burning. My dad wouldn't cry for my absence. I know he forgot me long ago, but I can't stop wondering. Am I that unimportant? Am I so insignificant? Isn't something missing in his heart when he thinks about me? How does a man create a child and take custody of that child but not give a damn about that child? Was it all for a show? Why am I always the sacrifice people leave behind when they decide about their damn lives?
Peeling through the gates of my best friend's mansion gates I feel the heat rise on the nape of my neck, filling my checks. My chest heaves painfully, almost making me feel like I will throw up. There's no way I can go inside knowing Cat's mother is home from her tour for a few weeks. She'll know I am not okay; she can always read me beyond the fake smile.
Leaning back in my seat, I clutch the leather seat, letting the last of my screams linger with each dying breath short and husky, causing me unbearable pain. I'd die to know my parents love me, but they've left me alone. All I ever wanted was for my dad to look at me and say to me. I know what you do to yourself; take a deep breath. It will be okay. I am here. But he never does. He's seen the scars on my arms, the deep red gashes, and the track marks, and he turns away with disgust. Never love or concern, I breathe deep and cry out. "Why, God, why?" I remember being barely conscious the night I took the overdoes of cocaine, not knowing it was laced with fentanyl, saying to no one. Would anyone miss me if I didn't come home tonight or ever again? I can't recall anyone answering me, but I remember hearing panicked voices as my body hit the pool.
I would die knowing no one loved me; it's the emptiness that is hard to swallow, knowing if I cut myself too deep and bled, I would bleed knowing no one cared. I could never do it before because of Cat, knowing my absence would make a difference to her. When I close my eyes at night, she's the one I see; her hands I feel pulling me out of the pool, her voice I hear screaming in my nightmares. Cat's the reason I came back. I know it inside, my last conscious memory of that night is seeing the horror on her face as my body twisted on the floor, and for the first time, I felt real fear about what would happen if I woke up and she wasn't there.
Closing my eyes, I squeeze tightly, gasping with every sharp pain tearing through my chest, making my body shake badly; kicking the floor, I whimper. It hurts so badly I need a fucking hit or a drink. My soul aches for the substances that have gotten me through my existence.
Withdrawal is hell; recovery is a nightmare. The days and weeks after are a sobering reminder of why I picked up the bottle in the first place and why I shot chemicals into my veins. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" "Kill me, Jesus; why did you let me live!" Slamming my fist against the console, I search for any hidden treasure knowing it's useless. Cat's already told me the gang has cleaned up my vehicles, locker, and all their houses, taken away all my hidden bottles, locked them up, and thrown away my stashes of drugs.
"Fuck!" I kick the brake peddle, slamming my head against the steering wheel, accidentally hitting the horn, which blares out, awakening me out of my trance. When I look into the rearview mirror, I am paralyzed.
Shit, I look like hell.
"Fuck me," I whisper, touching my hallowed check bones and staring at my colorless, lifeless checks and dull glazed eyes. Loneliness stares back at me, a void of emptiness and lost youth. It makes me question where I went so wrong that months of intense therapy have done nothing to reveal a damn thing, leaving me angrier and colder.
Stone Cold.
How am I not dead? Is my father right? Do I screw up everything, even dying? I can't recall every detail of the night in September when Tori Vega threw a party the first weekend after school started; her parents were away, so Tori and her older sister Trina threw a party on a dare. My dad and I got into an awful fight because I discovered I was pregnant. When I got to the party, I was so angry and hurt that nothing mattered to me. Trina offered me a drink and told me to get the party started, and I threw back the entire vodka bottle. I smashed it on the table, and everyone cheered. The booze started flowing right afterward. Tori was freaking out, trying to get everyone to calm down, but Trina turned up the stereo.
I told Beck about the pregnancy, and he threw money at me and told me my dad's right. We're too young to have a baby, and he wasn't even sure it was his. I took my first hit of cocaine for the night, smoked some LSD, and all I can remember after that was dancing on the table outside on the pool deck. Tori's voice worried, trying to get me down, begging Beck to help her asking him. "When is this shit going to end?"
"When she's dead. Tori." Beck had walked away. He called over his shoulder to her. "Asking why doesn't make it easier either, so don't bother; she's hell-bent on self-destruction. It's a game of dancing between the devil and heaven. One day the devil will win, and she'll get to heaven."
All I could do was laugh loudly and jump from one table to the next. I think I remember Cat going over to Beck and punching him. My sweet little beautiful kitty hit someone. "go easy on her guys, it's a fucking disease; Jade's hanging on the best she can. None of us understand cause we don't have her daddy issues or mommy abandonment complex. Jade just wants to feel free and loved. She's doing all she can to keep her head above the waters; she's our friend, our sister, not a product or a problem; if you can't show compassion, shut the fuck up."
Hopeless insanity. It's all I can say to describe that very night. I told everyone I was okay that night, just tired and needing to unwind. A little red wine, some vodka, a few beers, a little white line, but soon that little white line is a little glass pipe, and I'm feeling alright. I started wondering how it would be to never feel again because it's hell having to get high to feel okay. I remember looking around and seeing Tori dancing with Andre Harris, both of them laughing. Carefree and the same age as me, yet they had no worries.
Trina was drinking from a keg with four senior boys laughing, dancing seductively, her crop top riding up, showing her breasts, but no one called her a slut or tried to take advantage of her. Cell phones were recording her, daring her, dancing on the table, clapping her hands, shaking her ass. No one called her a freak or deranged, yet I did the same thing, and all the names were flying.
I thought I knew my limits, like Trina; I mean, I've been doing it for so long. I could quit it whenever I wanted to. I should have; maybe I just stopped caring. I can't remember how I felt from moment to moment. It's all a blur now, months later.
Until I was on my knees vomiting, Cat holding back my hair, praying through tears that I would be okay. All I could remember was praying for death to come and wash this pain away.
I was out of control, pushing Cat away and screaming at her. The words are vague, but the look in her eyes haunts me even now. I couldn't stop myself even if I wanted to. She needed to get away from me before I destroyed her. It's hard to say no
when dancing with the devil. So I took another hit until it was hopeless insanity, but in my twisted reality, it made sense.
I was worthless and didn't deserve to live. Fuck, at that point, I didn't want to live. What was the point of living if I couldn't follow my dreams? How would I be a single mother at sixteen?
I was proving my father right.
I was dying inside, and I wanted to die on the outside. There are no excuses; hell, I don't know why. I do it every, every, every time, but it's only when I'm lonely. I am lonely a lot. Sometimes I just want to cave, and I don't want to fight. But I fought that night. I fought off Tori and Cat when they tried to take away the drugs and the bottles. Pretty sure I smashed one over Troi's head.
All I wanted was to be held, but I couldn't ask because I was so fucking scared. Sixteen year old's don't ask to be held by their friends; we're supposed to be fucking confident and relaxed, not weak and afraid. Shit, I think I remember spilling wine on the floor; sorry, Tori can't imagine explaining that to mommy and daddy. Her parents give two fucks, and I'm sure Trina laid all the blame on her sister. Please, forgive me for the drinks spilled on the floor.
To the ones who never left me, my genuine friends, Andre, Cat, Tori, Trina, and Robbie Shapiro, fought to keep me alive that night. We've been down this road before. They've watched me fall time after time, but they've never left me.
I fix my dress and check my makeup, getting out of the car. I can't help but wonder why they've never left me when all I am to them is a total gank. I don't deserve them standing by my side, but they have visited me in rehab, taken down my homework, brought it to me, held my hand, and told me they loved and believed in me. They held me when I was shaking in cold sweats and vomiting, crying for death.
Cat was my most considerable support. She always has been; it amazes me because we're total opposites. She's cheerful and always full of positive quotes and advice. Her eyes remind me of roasting chestnuts. Whenever I was ranting about my messed-up life, she would stare at me with this wide expression, never judge me or make comments, and patiently listen. I'm not sure how someone so young, naïve and inexperienced had such insight and wisdom to know what I needed when I needed it. Yet she does.
Heading inside her house, I don't ring the doorbell; I'm family, according to her parents. As soon as I step inside, I am hit with the delicious smell of her mom's Irish cooking—shimmering beef mixed with potatoes, onions, celery, tomatoes, peppers, and freshly baked bread.
Her house is 30,000 square feet of French-inspired design. Every inch of her million-dollar home is sparkling in gold. White, the double staircase is a luxurious marble with 32 karat gold wrought-iron railings accented in gold leaf. The South African marble costs two million alone. Six candles line the walls, and a crystal chandelier hangs above my head in the foyer. The mosaic stares up at me as I click over the floor.
Inside the living room sits a baby grand piano, which sixteen-year-old Catarina "Cat" Valentine sits playing both her and the instrument bathed in golden rays of sunlight as she plays a beautiful melody I don't recognize. I stand against the door frame crossing my arms over my 32D breasts, watching her sway softly back and forth, her short, calloused fingers dancing in ghostly gravitation across the ivy keys. Her eyes are closed because Cat loves to feel like she and the melody are one. Cat has a transcendent voice when she sings; it's as if her euphonious voice soars on the wings of butterflies. I listen carefully to her lyrics as she softly sings.
"Dear Jesus, she can't breathe; don't you know she's dying inside?
Drop by drop, the poison eats her alive.
Helplessly, I watch, standing by, wishing and praying for you to save her from herself.
Dear Louise, I hold your words close to my heart, but I sure hope you could guide me from above
Girl, it would be great.
Dance like life is a song.
Be the writer of your own melody
Throw out fear and go against caution
Spread your wings and create your wind
Love harder through the rain, stand tall in the storms
Rainbows will greet you, my little love
Just hold on to the hope when the clouds are in their darkness."
"She wrote that for you, Jade." I jump at the tickling of my ear when Cat's mom. Valentina Valentine comes up behind me, her mouth pressed against my ear as her arms wrap around my shoulders, pulling me back onto her chest. "She loves you so much, Jade; we all love you. Welcome home, sweetheart. I'm glad you didn't die." I feel shocked it's the first time a grownup has told me I matter. "Thank you, Mama- V." I think my body loosens as her head rests against my cheek. Her scent drifts up to my senses vanilla; it soothes me. She smells like Cat.
Our reflections stare back at me through the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room. Opposites, yet I feel more at home here than in my house. Mama V stands taller than I am, 6'2, with an hourglass, slender but toned figure. Her crop top is lime green, bringing out the emerald hues of her eyes which sparkle in the jubilee; her skin is tan from hours outside in the sun, not fake from tanning bays. Platinum blond hair falls softly to her shoulders.
Mama V is a country artist who has been on the charts our entire lives; she's constantly touring and promoting, so she's hardly ever home. All my life, I've known her as this sweet, energetic, loving woman who gives her heart and soul to her two children, Daniel, with all his issues, and Cat, with her sweet innocence. She has her hands complete with these two, but she's never left me out of every family dinner; she included me in every celebration, holiday, and birthday, a milestone.
She was best friends with my mom, and she took over in so many ways after my mom died when I was nine, but I always knew she wasn't my mother. Every night I went home to a house of horror while Cat and Daniel grew up in a fun, musical, happy, adventure-filled home.
Hope. It's a word I've never known. The world loves her because her songs are full of hope and passion and carry a positive message. Maybe if I had been born into her family, I would feel differently. Fuck; perhaps I would be happy like Cat.
"There are no words to describe what you've been through, Jade. I'm broken inside, knowing I wasn't here to help you when you needed a mother. My sweet girl, you have so much to offer this world."
"I'm many things, Mama V, but sweet isn't one of them."
"To me, you will always be my sweet girl, Jade. The world only knows the persona you allow them to see, a fierce, bitter, impulsive, sarcastic, jealous, devious, revengeful girl. I know the real Jadelyn Louise West, the precious two-year-old who chased butterflies and studied their wings so she could grow her own beautiful pair. The girl who took those butterflies my son caught and set them free because no one should be held in captivity." She imitates my two-year-old voice. Now I know how Tori feels when I mock her voice.
"I remember the sweet three-year-old who held my daughter's hand when she was too scared to jump into the pool because water splashed on her face. You told her you would never let go of her hand, and you didn't. You taught Cat not to be afraid."
"Or, the five-year-old who begged me to go on stage in front of 20,000 people because you knew you would be a star took Cat's hand and told her she had a beautiful voice, and the world deserved to hear it. Cat was always afraid of the crowd's roar until you took her hand and forced her to sing with you. Jade, you encouraged Cat to dream big and chase those dreams with only an authentication each of you could own."
"Jade, my love." she brushes back my hair. "I remember the seven-year-old who punched the class bully when he called Cat a fluffy rainbow of vomit. You proudly went up to him, socked him, and took Cat to buy a plush rainbow pillow with the words be yourself in it. You took her home and had a dance party with her belting out Jem and the Holograms at the top of your lungs."
"This is the real Jade, and I am damn proud to call you my sweet baby girl, a woman who picks herself up when life throws you down, the woman who volunteers at Aids outreach clinics because when she was eight, she read about Ryan White and thought it was so unfair the prejudice and hate he faced for simply being a boy who liked school and had a disease many people feared. Jade, you were afraid to come out to me when you thought you were bisexual, but you did it because being someone who isn't you is a price too high for you to bear. Do you remember what I said when you came to me, Jade?"
I nod, pressing my lips together. "Hold your head up high. There's a world outside, That's passing by. Never lose yourself; always remember that you're like nobody else. When life throws you into the unknown and you feel alone, remember there will be love. There will be pain, there will be hope, and there will be fear, but through it all year after year. Stand or fall; I will be by your side cheering for you, loving you through all the aches and pains."
"Your words inspired me to volunteer at an LGBTQ center so other kids wouldn't feel alone." "Yes, they did, but you did the work, my sweet Jade; you are compassionate, brave, authentic, beautiful, and unique. Everything I hope my daughter would find in a best friend someone to encourage her to be herself. To show her not to worry about those stupid girls if they try to bring her down. It's cause they're scared and insecure, someone to teach her self-confidence when I can't be around. A friend who would be the voice in the back of her head and tell her don't change for any man even if he promises the stars and takes her by the hand, to not give herself away because of a few whispered words."
Mama V caresses my face gently, and loving her eyes meet mine; all I see inside them is genuine loving pride. Looking through her eyes, I almost remember how it feels to have motherly love. "Jadey!" Cat's voice calls to me, taking me out of my trance. "You're home! Thank God!" Her feet fly across the Brazilian oak floor with such speed it sends her Cat, Mr. Meow-ow, into a fit of rage. He flies out of the room, hissing and jumping over their dog, Mrs. Fluffywagatail. She doesn't even lift her head, just huffs at the disturbance.
"Prepare for landing." Mama V laughs, stepping back as Cat sails across the room, screaming my name. "Jadey!" I step forward, feeling my lips twist into a smile. She leaps, going airborne. All 90 pounds of her 5'1 frame land inside of my open arms. I easily scoop her up, wrapping my arms around her and spinning her around. She squeals in happiness. "I've missed you so much, Jadey." Putting her down, I expect her to let go, but she holds onto me tightly, her arms wrapped around my waist, her head buried into my stomach inches below my breasts. I stroke her red velvet hair to comfort her, knowing my actions had unattended consequences for her.
"I was so damn scared, Jade. Why would you do that to yourself?" Cat's words hold no malice, no judgment, only demanding an answer to soothe her confused soul. For the first time, I saw how my actions affected someone else. Cat loves hard, and she gives her entire heart, soul, and trust to someone just like her mama. In my sixteen years on earth, I've never met another soul I could talk to so quickly or openly. Cat's always made me feel strong even when I am weak and beautiful when I feel ugly.
I'm at a loss for words, but it's okay for her because she takes my hand, leading me into the living room and out the French sliding glass doors to her beautiful backyard, a juice bar sits under a retractable canopy with a pizza oven, and a fire-pit surrounded by the cheery oak table with ten chairs. In the far corner sits a six-seated couch, a white bookcase for storage, and a crystal chandelier.
The sun's rays shimmer over the stainless steel clear-sided pool. We wordlessly shed our clothes to reveal our bathing suits, different as night and day. Mine is a black strapless bikini, while hers looks like a neon rainbow puked up on her. However, the suit clings to her body perfectly, so I can't complain.
Why did I purposely try to end my life? If only I had the answer. The water feels fantastic against my flushed skin, which hasn't seen the light of day in almost two months. I close my eyes and sink into the refreshing water, shivering as it kisses my skin. "I wasn't trying." "You're lying, Jade; I know you better than yourself."
No anger or judgment, just facts. Cat knows me better than my damn self; diving into the water, Cat splashes as she swims underneath. Her body effortlessly sails through like she was born to swim; coming up, she flings her hair over her shoulder, flicking me with drops of water. I blink, shaking my head, but I keep quiet. It's her time to talk now. She stands in front of me, eyes staring into mine, innocent and bright. Glimmering in love and acceptance, she sees all of me and accepts who I am without wanting to change me.
"All I wanted was to be numb, Cat, to end the pain, not my life. I didn't set out to hurt myself, and I lost control. I guess I stopped caring. I was pregnant, Cat, and my dad and Beck told me to abort the baby. I felt like my life was over, and it scared me my dad would have been right. So I took a drink and one became six, I was dazed and didn't think about what I was doing when I took the first hit, then it felt so good to be numb, I uh. Honestly, I just wanted time to stop forever." Cat takes my hands into hers, placing them on her hips. She doesn't need a play-by-play. She was there; she saw how out of control I became. She needs to know why I didn't talk to her and why I chose suicide over her.
Cat knows my dad, and she hates my dad. This pure bundle of delight hates no one, yet she hates my dad. "Everything seemed out of my control that day; school was hell. I knew I was pregnant, and I couldn't focus. I failed two major tests, and Vega got me into trouble in class. She couldn't shut her mouth, so I kicked her chair."
"Jadey, that was mean she could have gotten hurt."
"She didn't. Tori is always fine."
"Why do you hate Tori so much? She's so sweet."
"I hate sweet."
"You like me."
"I tolerate you."
"Liar."
"True, I am lying. I love you, Cat Ugh, but Vega is always getting away with chiz; I am always in trouble; ever since she came to Hollywood Arts, she's stolen every lead in every show. They used to be my roles; she never had to work her ass off day and night to prove to someone she was worth a damn. She knows nothing about the arts, yet she gets everything. The teachers all love her and hate me. I worked my ass off to get into HA; Cat, we both did, and she got in by accident cause Trina's tongue swelled up; it's not fair! She leaves me standing in her shadows; I am nobody's understudy. Everyone acts like I am jealous and evil when I call her out. I'm not evil, Cat; I just want to matter to someone."
"You matter to me, Jade." Gingerly, she reaches up to touch my cheek. Her touch is soft and warm wet; it feels divine. "Beck told me he loved me, convinced me I was worth being loved. He called me beautiful without wanting a damn thing in return. No guy ever made me feel special like Beck. Until the night I gave myself to him, and he wouldn't listen to me. It hurt so bad, that, and I was so scared, but I didn't know how to say no; hell, I didn't know I could say no until recently when I finally told him no; he called me a bitch."
"Jade, I'm sorry Beck didn't respect you. You are beautiful and you deserved to be treated with love and equality. Deciding to have a sexual relationship is important since it involves both your body and your emotions. You need to make sure that it's the right decision for you. Beck should have understood how huge of choice this is for a girl. We're at risk if a condom breaks, or he chooses not to wear one. Having sex before your body develops can physically hurt, and there's the emotional pain. Having sex before you're ready can make you feel bad about yourself and cause anxiety. We're the ones who are labeled as sluts or bad girls because we had sex, yet the boys can sleep around with no consequences. Peer pressure to engage in adult-like activities can encourage adolescents to engage in various levels of sexual experimentation. Adolescents who engage in sexual experimentation are at an increased risk for sexually transmitted diseases, including HIV/AIDs and pregnancy. Sex and love mean trust. Beck broke your trust. Jade, he's an idiot, not you."
"Cat, I wow. I didn't know you knew so much about this subject."
"Jade, I'm a virgin, not because I'm stupid, but because I value my future and my body. I'm still a teenager, though I have desires and needs, so I researched and talked to my mom and the right people. Wanting something is natural even though people think desire is always linked to promiscuity, so automatically, it's wrong or personal. It shouldn't be talked about, especially by females, because we're supposed to be private and dignified. I'm in love, Jade, and I know I will give myself to this lucky person someday. For now, though, I am focusing on my future and keeping myself healthy mentally and physically."
Did Cat just admit to me she's in love? Who is she in love with, Robbie? I want to ask, but I don't think I have the right to. She's never admitted to me before she's had feelings for someone, and I don't know if it was a slip of the tongue or purposely disclosed. She doesn't elaborate, so I don't want to pry.
"Jade, you are beautiful, in body, mind, and soul and you deserve to be treated like a queen."
"Thank You, Cat."
"You don't have to thank me for telling you the truth, babe. I only wish you saw it in yourself, Jade. You are not a rumor whispered in the halls; no matter how hard you try, Jadey, you can never be some stupid recitation for your father's playboy ways. Nor can you escape the blame. He'll always see his failures and regrets inside of you because your body and blood arise from him and he hates himself, so he will always take it out on you. It's not right, it sucks ass. You deserve to be free from the ticking clock of his vexation; you were not the future he dreamed of, planned, or wanted, but he shouldn't hold it against you or wish away the brilliance of your future, but he does so it's made your heart bitter, lonely, and depressed and so damn angry you don't know how to deal. So you self-medicate and try to numb yourself."
Cat stares directly at me. Her left-hand rests on my cheek. I pull her closer, needing to feel her once again because even in the 102-degree sun, I am freezing, shivering, unable to shake off the intensity of these emotions she has created inside me. If only Cat showed the world this side of her man, she would blow them away. I'm the lucky one who gets to see this side of her, vulnerable and wise.
"Slow, Jade, breathe slowly before you pass out, honey. It's a panic attack; you can manage this. Just listen to me." I didn't even know I was hyperventilating until she mentioned it. Suddenly, both her hands are on my face, stroking back my hair, making me focus only on her face.
"Steady, Jade, steady your gaze on me and only me. You got this; we got this..together. You don't need to drink away this rage or shoot shit into your veins that will poison you. No matter how bad the pain is, baby, we can get through this without you dying. I'm here, and I won't let you vanish into some cocaine-filled sky or drown yourself in some bottle."
"I don't want you to feel this pain, Cat. You're too…."
"What Jade, Pure?"
"Newsflash, Wicked Witch of the West, I've been through some shit myself. You think you know me, baby, but you don't really, so listen to me. The harder you push me away, I'll push you back- cause guesses what West." Cat pushes her body against mine; her delicate petite breasts brush against my nipples. I feel the effect instantly. My body stiffens.
"You can scream at me all you want, Jadelyn."
She knows I will not scream at her when we are alone. "I'll scream louder. You are not worthless; you are not a slut, or a stupid talent-less bitch, do you hear me? Jadelyn Louise West? Huh, do you hear me? Cause I am looking right at you, and I am going to tell you, even if this embarrasses you, cause I push back harder. I love longer. I am going to be the voice your mother would have been for you if she had lived past twenty-nine—the voice inside your head when you are alone and scared. When you doubt your beautiful light, Jade, you are everything to me: my song, my melody, my soul, and every heartbeat. I'm warning you, it's dangerous, but you have a light too beautiful to hide away, so don't look down; look up and see yourself in the mirror. See yourself the way I do-the way a mother would tell you are, Jade."
"There's so much more to you than what you let the world see; sometimes you make me feel so high like when you sing there's so much depth, richness don't be afraid to share your song with the world, let the ice melt away I promise you it will be okay. Let yourself feel the pain so you can heal."
"Start breathing; it's okay to live; let me be your poison. I'll bring you back to life, give me your hand, let me show you how to dance through the rain and love like the world on fire. We will write our harmonies. Throw fear to the wind. Let me be your wings."
Salty tears burn my eyes because my mom used to say that to me when I was a child. Love is like the world's on fire because our world was always on fire, thanks to my dad, who made it his mission to touch our world.
Looking at Cat now, I swear I can see my mom in her eyes. It's hard to know what she would've said to me now because she never got to know me past nine years old. Somehow, Cat seems to have channeled my mom perfectly, though. My mom was always by my side, cheering for me, just like Cat is now. Seeing Cat makes me miss my mom more. It's hard to go through life without your biggest cheerleader, your inspiration for your future. "Don't look down, Jade; look at me. You're walking a dangerous tightrope of emotions. It takes balance; you can't do this alone." A tightening of my throat and a quick intake of breath leaves me dizzy. A hiccup and a sob escaped, and Cat covered my face with shaking hands. "It's okay, Jade; let your emotions out; you've been holding them inside for far too damn long."
She pulled me into her arms as a flood of tears gushed down my ashen cheeks. The tears fall so fast that I can no longer control my breathing, and I feel myself choke on the air as I inhale, like a child trying to hold back tears. Cat holds me, rubbing my back, whispering soothing words, encouraging me to cry and not be ashamed. "When you love someone, it's never over. You move on because you must, but you take them in your heart. Love comes with risks; one of those risks is losing the person you love with your entire heart, Jade. To live without risks, though, isn't truly living. So we risk losing to get the sweetest reward, which is love."
"I prayed for one more chance to reach you," she said, "to tell you how much I love you and to tell you to love yourself as much as I love you; when you stopped breathing, Jade, I stopped living. All I could focus on was getting you to draw breath again. I screamed. I broke down crying in the middle of CPR, but I never gave up. I promised God many things that night if he gave you another chance."
"Cat, I never knew you gave me CPR, or that I stopped breathing."
"You did three times, Jade. Twice before the ambulance got there. Trina and I took turns giving you mouth to mouth, and Andre did the chest compressions on you." Crying is a vibrant emotional experience and carries a lot of physical and verbal cues; Cat gently takes my cues, rubbing my back, kissing my head, and pulling my body to hers. Talking when she feels I need it and staying silent, just letting me sob when my body is overcome. I pressed her face against my head when my knees became too weak to withhold my trembling weight, so she became my balance. I clung to her—the only safe place—as the battle for my soul and sanity raged. I'm not sure how long I cried, but when I was finally calm, I hiccuped against her bikini top as I tried to catch my breath. I don't have to tell her she was correct. That crying made me feel better. She knows already.
It's one reason I allow Cat to take my hand and lead me out of the pool to the couch. She wraps a towel around my shivering body and fixes me a drink in the juice bar. Coming to sit beside me, she brushes my stringy hair off my face. "I'm not the little girl everyone thinks I am. I have some very intense feelings for you, Jade. I've held them in for so long because you were with Beck, and your recovery meant more to me than revealing these feelings. I've learned to keep this secret even though it's been killing me; I keep telling everyone I am okay, but I'm not; this isn't the greatest time either. You probably won't feel the same way towards me. It's okay if you don't. I don't want to ruin our friendship, but I must tell you. I am in love with you, Jade, and I have been for a long time. Almost losing you made me understand I can't keep hiding these feelings."
Pressing my lips to Cat's, I push her down on the couch, wrapping my arms around her body and crawling on top of her tiny frame. Automatically my eyes close, allowing my other senses to take over her sweet vanilla and strawberry scent drifts up to my nose, intoxicating me in her trance. My fingers slide up her sides delicate skin meets my rough flesh. Life is beautiful now; I am grateful I didn't die. Deepening the kiss, Cat's tongue flicks against the roof of my mouth, causing me to moan as I grind my body over hers. Feeling her tongue graze my teeth, my jaws open wider as she overpowers me with the wrath of the unreachable terminus. She was hitting my uvula, which wiggles as my entire body pulsates with a drumming desire of delight and anticipation. Cat's tongue dances and dives inside my mouth like a slippery wet dolphin; her damp body is slick under mine, gliding in elegance against my skin, electrifying me.
I've entered heaven and don't want to return to earth, but slowly I do. Our passion is leaving me in a semi-trance. I can only think about kissing this divine pixie-serpent who has captured me in body, mind, and soul. My eyes open as our mouths part, and I open my eyes. I see Cat's mother standing in the doorway watching us, but her expression isn't mad or disgusted to see her daughter kissing another woman. Her eyes express only one thing: unadulterated motherly love and pride. I feel unconditional love and acceptance for the first time in my life.
"Kiss me again, Jade."