(If anyone cares, as I was thinking of a name for this chapter, I think I know the name of Selina Kyle's mother. Marie would you believe? Yeah, so I think I did I good job in naming Mary's mother Selene as a tribute to Catwoman. God, that's ironic.. Anyway, on with this!)
To Despise Her
It was about two years after Selene's suicide, and Mary was sitting at a small table at lunch. She was offered bit of food here and there and acted as though she was only bored, not hungry as she ate. Truth was, she was only eating at school and whenever she stopped over to see Jesus. There was no food for her at home, only a leather whip.
She was tired, and mainly annoyed at her teachers, her home, and life for her. She kept silent for a few good minutes before someone mentioned it.
"So, anything pissin' you off today?" John. Good old normal honest John. John I'm-the-exact-opposite-of-my-cousin-and-I-believe-I'm-better-looking John.
"Just shit, y'know?" She looked at the other two at the table, Jesus and Judas. Jesus looked concerned and Judas was on edge. Judas was always on edge. He thought that if he sat here, he would lose his friends, the same friends who taunted him and abused him.
"Mary," Jesus began softly, "if you wish to discuss, you may—"
"Fuck, man, she said it was just average shit, so just leave it at average shit! Fuck, I'm glad we're not closer related, y'know?" John looked at Judas and Mary for a bit of a response.
"Y'know what I'm saying, right?"
Judas looked away at the floor and sighed a bit, Mary gave John a stern look and spoke.
"I can defend myself, bastard, you don't have to get up anyone's ass. Especially not Jesus's."
"Oh sorry," he began sarcastically, "I had no dream of upsetting the Queen of Nazareth and her King!"
"Fuck off, Jonathan!" Judas muttered.
"Hell, I didn't invite you, fucker. Go get beat up by your buddies."
Here, Judas made a move as if to swing at him, Jesus quickly blocked it.
"Stop it. NOW." he said sternly.
There was a silence that lasted until the bell rang for class. Judas left to join his "buddies." John picked up his binder and muttered something like "math" and "the converted pagan bitch." Jesus sighed and looked at Mary. Religion.
"Well, at least that's a class I pass.." Mary said reluctantly to him.
"Yeah, but it would be nice if more understood. Most don't."
"We're just the religious one's, I guess. That's it! Our careers are chosen!"
"They are?" Jesus asked playfully.
"Yes! You become High Priest, and I, angel, like I always have been." she said grinning.
"You're not as angelic as you think.." Jesus teased as they walked slowly behind the rest.
"We'll, someone has to be the sinful angel."
"Yeah.." Jesus muttered, grinning.
Religion was a better class for one main reason: the educator, Mrs. Elijah. She was in her late sixties and was extremely patient. One of the few teachers who considered Mary to be an average, normal student, unlike the opinion of the majority of staff.
Mary and Jesus entered the small classroom, taking their seats in the back, off to the side as usual, to avoid taunting (Mary). Jesus opened his backpack, removed his notebook, religious workbook, and copy of the Torah. He spread the items around his desk neatly. Mary, on the other hand, went into the back of the room, picked up a used and beat workbook, and an extra copy of the Torah from a stuffed blue shelf. She then sat down at her desk as the rest of the class entered talking loudly and short Mrs. Elijah bringing up the rear.
As the class settled down Mrs. Elijah began to review facts for a mid term exam. Jesus tiredly, almost bored, raised his hand for every question, whereas Mary seldom did, not wanting to bring attention to herself. The rest of the class occasionally answered, or made a sound until..
"Who can tell me one of David's seven wives?" Mrs. Elijah asked.
There were light snickers and some soft mutters of "Magdalene." Mary began to sink into her chair. She hated it when boys tried to be funny, few possessed the talent, and in her point of view, this one surely didn't. She, was also touchy on this subject, she interpreted it as Bathsheba being abused, much like herself. One time she asked Jesus about this, he shrugged, not wanting to answer, and said that leaders think they can do whatever they wish, but, God would eventually punish them in their sick pride.
Mary mused lightly over the thoughts and ignored the questions and suppressed giggles until the next inquiry came..
"Who was Samson's mistress?"
Mary's stomach churned with fret and hate as she heard the louder sniggers and comments of "Mary Magdalene," and the ever-wonderful "Replace Samson with Jesus, remember, Mary's middle name is Delilah." (Her middle name wasn't Delilah, or Anne, or the ever-terrible Sue. It was Ramera, but those who spoke the pagan Spanish didn't need to know.)
Mrs. Elijah, a bit oblivious to the joke calmly asked the class to settle down, which they did. Mary, beginning to finally break at the remarks, calmly asked to go to the bathroom. Mrs. Elijah nodded and let her go. Jesus, looked upon Mary with concern, but Mary refused to look back and let him read her.
~~~~
After Mary had been gone a few seconds, Jesus raised his hand and asked to address the class. Mrs. Elijah agreed, she loved talking openly with her students; she loved being a support and a grandmother to them.
"I want... to discuss..." he turned around to she if the class was listening and found that they were, "I want to discuss Mary. Why do you to treat her so poorly?" his question was in a calm tone, but most of the students squirmed a bit. Mrs. Elijah looked about the class, silent and a bit unnerving. A girl with the dark Roman features raised her hand.
"Yes, Roberta?"
"Well," the student began nervously, "she asks for it..." she mumbled.
"How so?" Jesus asked his a cold coolness.
Roberta continued, "The way her clothes are, how she acts, it's like a bit of a... a bit of a..." she became unsure of how to voice her thought, but then, turned to a cruel biblical source, "A bit of a Delilah."
As a majority of the class started to snicker, Mrs. Elijah silenced them with a loud, "Quiet!"
Jesus looked about the quieting classroom and began to speak, in occasional white lies, "She has a rough family life. Her father is a bit of a..." he paused to find a term the students could relate to "... jerk. She can't afford a lot of new uniforms, that's why they're patched." He paused again, this time for effect. Then, anger came to him, an anger that was buried in his soul, and he fought his insides to remain calm. "The student body hasn't forgiving." he muttered, and some of the class who still thought of listening and considering strained every vessel in their ear to hear him. "They boys are cruel... treat her like..." So many words entered his head, words that John used on a daily basis. "Bad. Way too bad. She shouldn't face the abuse, but she does, and telling some people hasn't worked. She's given up. She reports nothing."
His ragged breathing began to echo around the room. He was fighting to say it all, say how much better Mary deserved it all, how much he cared, how much he was beginning to silently hate Mary's father. Jesus struggled again and voices entered his head, saying that nothing could be done no matter how hard he fought; nothing could save her from her family.
Students would come up with some suggestions to be nicer to Mary without her being suspicious. Jesus's thoughts, however, were far away from the class. Something terrible had happened to Mary, he could feel it, and moments later, Judas stuck his head in the classroom.
"Sorry, Mrs. Elijah, I don't wish to interrupt..."
"Yes, Mr. Iscariot?" she asked, holding up her hand to the class to quiet them.
"I don't believe, Mrs. Elijah, that Mary will return to class, or the next class she has..." Judas answered, titling his head so he could catch Jesus's gaze.
"What has delayed Miss Magdalene?" she asked further, with overwhelming concern.
"A bit ill, I saw her outside the bathroom and took her to the nurse."
A lie, Jesus thought. He knew. Judas's stare practically said one thing, and only Jesus could figure out what happened. The gaze clearly said one word: Rape.
(Ramera, I believe is the Spanish word for either whore or prostitute. I enjoyed my small "Mary Sue" pun. Oh yes, I bet you want to know how sexy Judas is involved, and what the heck is the rape thing exactly? Ooo.. next chapter!)
