AN: Thank you, Rose for reviewing my fic. Your reviews totally make my day. I have taken the Manti-Kids tests and I ended up
being Syl last time I took it.
I hope everyone enjoys this chapter, cause I enjoyed writing it. I hope to have the nest two chapters done this week, because I go back to school the week after. Evil. Anyway, on with the fic!
(Don't forget. Reviews make me all glowy inside.)
---
July 14th 2014
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Heat.
It makes your skin crawl. Beads of sweat trickling down her arms and legs and torso. The urge to throw up, because you're so, so hot and your stomach is rebelling against the last meal you ate.
It's about waking up in the middle of the night, your eyes wide and your breathing shallow. About some alter ego taking you over, so you can see and feel and taste, but you can't control your actions.
That feeling, urge, desire, in the base of your stomach, for something. Men. That glint in your eyes. The fact you don't feel like it's you; more like something you're watching.
Pulling on whatever clothes are lying on the floor, not caring how small, or dirty or impractical they are. You only bother with them because you can't afford to be arrested for indecent exposure.
Standing on a street corner like a common prostitute; but you're not even that good – at least prostitute get payed for sexual favours. You're begging at any man who crosses your path.
About the tears you know will come when it's all over, and there's a strange man in your bed.
Jondy knows that. Jondy knows it all.
But it's ten times worse this time. The summer heat was the worst Chicago had seen in ten years. Jondy lay in bed, the sweat running down her face, her hands shaking with the desire, the complete need…
It's too much for her. She's wearing a tiny blue nightshirt and her dark hair is encircling her face, fluffy with sweat. She's barefoot and wide eyed and the pheromones are too much…
Jondy wants to convince herself that the only reason so many men proposition her is because of the pheromones. A chemical reaction. No other reason.
No. These men are perverts, criminals in training. They see fourteen year old Jondy begging for it on a street corner, her slim body still mostly child-like in build, with slight curves visible under her nightshirt.
She ends up in the arms of a thirty year old man, with a wife and children at home. Jondy hates this, hates that she's the reason for another broken family.
It's late afternoon when Jondy wakes up from a coma like sleep. She instantly regrets waking up. Her body aches with an infinite tiredness, a never ending pain. Another heat cycle. Another man.
He lies asleep, his back to her. She wants to reach out and break his neck. Not for her; no, for her and her sisters and every other girl this man, and the other men like him, who have taken advantage of. She hates him on principle, for what he symbolises.
She crawls out of bed, pulling on her blue nightdress over her head. She feels like a junkie coming off crack cocaine. She stumbles into the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it. Locking that man, her problems, the reality, out.
Her skin crawls, the droplets of sweat on her body feeling like hundreds of insects crawling around.
She takes some tryptophan, but the seizure still comes. She curls up on the porcelain tiles, her eyes fixed on a point somewhere in front of her. She's nothing but a slut; a whore. She's only fourteen years old and she's already been with four different men. It doesn't feel right, it makes her feel sick to her stomach. Fourteen year old girls aren't meant to feel like this. She's nothing but a freak.
The man wakes up, yelling out for her. With energy and anger she didn't know she had, Jondy screams for him to get the hell out, to leave her the hell alone. He yells back, calling her names, blaming her for it, for every affair he's had since he got married.
It's too much for Jondy. Seizures rack her body, her limbs flailing wildly. One, two, five, nine, twenty tryptophan are jammed into her mouth, the shaking so bad she can't swallow. So bad. So, so bad.
Jondy doesn't know when the seizure finishes. She might have been there for a day, a week… she doesn't know.
And no body is there to help her. She's alone, on the bathroom floor. She climbs to her feet, staring in the mirror. Her eyes all blood shot, her face pale, dark circles around her eyes. She looks skinny and not human. She's sick of always being alone. No matter what he says, Zack always leaves her behind. He promises he'll stay longer, but he always leaves. Doesn't even hug her.
What's the point of staying on the Outside like this? Always hiding in apartments, not being able to go outside because of Manticore, and not being about to go out at night because of the Ordinaries.
Her hand shoots out in a fit of temper and the bathroom mirror shatters, shards of the glass flying around the bathroom. She instinctively covers her face, but one of the shards embedded itself in her upper arm.
Jondy just sits down, her back against the wall, watching the morning sunlight hit the broken glass . Blood runs down her arm and she just wants out. She's sick of the seizures that sometimes don't stop for days at a time. She's sick of the heat cycles that make her seek out the men on the street. She's sick of being so scared all the time, of not being able to spend time with Zack. Or not knowing all the nursery rhymes and the fairy tales every normal girl grew up with.
Jondy wants Max back.
But Max is dead. Frozen to death. Or maybe the soldiers found her and shot her.
Zack hasn't been to see Jondy in a long time. Since before Christmas. He feels guilty for leaving her alone, after he told her they could stay together. He knows he has to stop making promises to her. He always ends up breaking them.
He opens her apartment door; it's unlocked and not latched properly which concerns him. Jondy isn't careless enough to leave a door unlocked when she is home, let alone when she went out. Maybe someone had robbed her place.
Windows are open all over the apartment, for the heat, Zack guesses. The bed is stripped bare and Jondy is no where to be seen.
"Jondy?" Zack calls out. Jondy is a teenage girl. He needs to be more careful around her. "Jondy, are you home?"
Bedroom, kitchen, living room are all empty. But the bathroom door is locked shut.
"Jondy?" Zack yells. Something, an old niggling worry comes back to the surface. A paranoid concern he's always had.
With a sharp kick, the door splinters away from the lock and Jondy's in the far corner, curled up. There's some sort of glass all over the floor and Zack can see dribbles of blood all over the bathroom tiles. Jondy's crying silently.
The scarlet blood makes Zack's whole being freeze in fear, in terror, in fear for Jondy. In his darkest moments, Zack can picture each of his siblings lying dead. And this terrifies him; that somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, Zack has already given up on the X5s.
"Jondy," Zack's beside her in a second and he crushes her into a hug. Jondy wraps her arms around her neck, burying her face into his leather jacket, sobbing huge wracking sobs that shook her body. She clings to him like she used to cling to Zane, to Max.
Zack knows how to deal with anger, with heat, with fear. But he never quite knows what to do about tears. He can hold Jondy tightly, but he's never had Tinga's knack at saying the right thing at the right time.
"I'm sorry Zack," Jondy manages, between sobs. "I'm sorry."
He begins stroking her dark, tangled hair, cradling her body against his. "What's wrong Jon? What happened?"
"Nothing. Everything," Jondy said, her sobs slowly calming down. "I just…"
Zack pulls back slowly, holding Jondy's injured arm gently. It still oozes blood.
"I'll need to stitch that up," Zack says slowly. "I'll go down to the drug store to get some suturing thread. Will you be okay here by yourself?"
Jondy nods and stands up. "I-I guess I'll clean this up," she says slowly, wiping her eyes with the edge of her nightdress.
Two hours later and Jondy's arm is stitched up with black suturing thread, a white bandage covering them. The bathroom is now clear of blood smears and shatter glass. Jondy's hair is scraped back into a braid and she silently eats the Chinese food Zack brought with him. They both focus on the television, avoiding the conversation that will ultimately lead to awkward silence.
"Jondy," Zack says, after a little while.
"Zack," Jondy repeats, in exactly the same tone.
"What happened?" Zack asked.
She doesn't look at him. "Just … I went into heat and I had seizures and I just broke or something. I'm okay now."
"What about later?" Zack said, resting his hand on her shoulder. "You know I can't stay." He hates to think of what would have happened to Jondy if he hadn't turned up. It was like all of his worries coming true at once.
"Later is later," Jondy laid back against Zack, her eyes still focused on the television. Parallel processing. "When it happens, you can help me."
The edge in her voice signifies the end of the conversation. As Zack relaxes, watching the television show again, he realises that there's an easiness between them now. Like maybe they were a normal brother and sister.
And he wonders if they'll ever be able to recreate this moment in a different month, a different year, a different city, state, country. If she'll readily talk to him, so trusting, for her whole like. If it'll always be him, Zack, and her, Jondy.
But, Zack reminds himself, Jondy's right. That's later. He'll worry about that when it happens.
---
If you would like to see Esperarle-Jondy and Zack in Esperarle's cover art, please visit http://www.twisted-logic.com/fanart/esperarle.gif. :)
being Syl last time I took it.
I hope everyone enjoys this chapter, cause I enjoyed writing it. I hope to have the nest two chapters done this week, because I go back to school the week after. Evil. Anyway, on with the fic!
(Don't forget. Reviews make me all glowy inside.)
---
July 14th 2014
---
Heat.
It makes your skin crawl. Beads of sweat trickling down her arms and legs and torso. The urge to throw up, because you're so, so hot and your stomach is rebelling against the last meal you ate.
It's about waking up in the middle of the night, your eyes wide and your breathing shallow. About some alter ego taking you over, so you can see and feel and taste, but you can't control your actions.
That feeling, urge, desire, in the base of your stomach, for something. Men. That glint in your eyes. The fact you don't feel like it's you; more like something you're watching.
Pulling on whatever clothes are lying on the floor, not caring how small, or dirty or impractical they are. You only bother with them because you can't afford to be arrested for indecent exposure.
Standing on a street corner like a common prostitute; but you're not even that good – at least prostitute get payed for sexual favours. You're begging at any man who crosses your path.
About the tears you know will come when it's all over, and there's a strange man in your bed.
Jondy knows that. Jondy knows it all.
But it's ten times worse this time. The summer heat was the worst Chicago had seen in ten years. Jondy lay in bed, the sweat running down her face, her hands shaking with the desire, the complete need…
It's too much for her. She's wearing a tiny blue nightshirt and her dark hair is encircling her face, fluffy with sweat. She's barefoot and wide eyed and the pheromones are too much…
Jondy wants to convince herself that the only reason so many men proposition her is because of the pheromones. A chemical reaction. No other reason.
No. These men are perverts, criminals in training. They see fourteen year old Jondy begging for it on a street corner, her slim body still mostly child-like in build, with slight curves visible under her nightshirt.
She ends up in the arms of a thirty year old man, with a wife and children at home. Jondy hates this, hates that she's the reason for another broken family.
It's late afternoon when Jondy wakes up from a coma like sleep. She instantly regrets waking up. Her body aches with an infinite tiredness, a never ending pain. Another heat cycle. Another man.
He lies asleep, his back to her. She wants to reach out and break his neck. Not for her; no, for her and her sisters and every other girl this man, and the other men like him, who have taken advantage of. She hates him on principle, for what he symbolises.
She crawls out of bed, pulling on her blue nightdress over her head. She feels like a junkie coming off crack cocaine. She stumbles into the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it. Locking that man, her problems, the reality, out.
Her skin crawls, the droplets of sweat on her body feeling like hundreds of insects crawling around.
She takes some tryptophan, but the seizure still comes. She curls up on the porcelain tiles, her eyes fixed on a point somewhere in front of her. She's nothing but a slut; a whore. She's only fourteen years old and she's already been with four different men. It doesn't feel right, it makes her feel sick to her stomach. Fourteen year old girls aren't meant to feel like this. She's nothing but a freak.
The man wakes up, yelling out for her. With energy and anger she didn't know she had, Jondy screams for him to get the hell out, to leave her the hell alone. He yells back, calling her names, blaming her for it, for every affair he's had since he got married.
It's too much for Jondy. Seizures rack her body, her limbs flailing wildly. One, two, five, nine, twenty tryptophan are jammed into her mouth, the shaking so bad she can't swallow. So bad. So, so bad.
Jondy doesn't know when the seizure finishes. She might have been there for a day, a week… she doesn't know.
And no body is there to help her. She's alone, on the bathroom floor. She climbs to her feet, staring in the mirror. Her eyes all blood shot, her face pale, dark circles around her eyes. She looks skinny and not human. She's sick of always being alone. No matter what he says, Zack always leaves her behind. He promises he'll stay longer, but he always leaves. Doesn't even hug her.
What's the point of staying on the Outside like this? Always hiding in apartments, not being able to go outside because of Manticore, and not being about to go out at night because of the Ordinaries.
Her hand shoots out in a fit of temper and the bathroom mirror shatters, shards of the glass flying around the bathroom. She instinctively covers her face, but one of the shards embedded itself in her upper arm.
Jondy just sits down, her back against the wall, watching the morning sunlight hit the broken glass . Blood runs down her arm and she just wants out. She's sick of the seizures that sometimes don't stop for days at a time. She's sick of the heat cycles that make her seek out the men on the street. She's sick of being so scared all the time, of not being able to spend time with Zack. Or not knowing all the nursery rhymes and the fairy tales every normal girl grew up with.
Jondy wants Max back.
But Max is dead. Frozen to death. Or maybe the soldiers found her and shot her.
Zack hasn't been to see Jondy in a long time. Since before Christmas. He feels guilty for leaving her alone, after he told her they could stay together. He knows he has to stop making promises to her. He always ends up breaking them.
He opens her apartment door; it's unlocked and not latched properly which concerns him. Jondy isn't careless enough to leave a door unlocked when she is home, let alone when she went out. Maybe someone had robbed her place.
Windows are open all over the apartment, for the heat, Zack guesses. The bed is stripped bare and Jondy is no where to be seen.
"Jondy?" Zack calls out. Jondy is a teenage girl. He needs to be more careful around her. "Jondy, are you home?"
Bedroom, kitchen, living room are all empty. But the bathroom door is locked shut.
"Jondy?" Zack yells. Something, an old niggling worry comes back to the surface. A paranoid concern he's always had.
With a sharp kick, the door splinters away from the lock and Jondy's in the far corner, curled up. There's some sort of glass all over the floor and Zack can see dribbles of blood all over the bathroom tiles. Jondy's crying silently.
The scarlet blood makes Zack's whole being freeze in fear, in terror, in fear for Jondy. In his darkest moments, Zack can picture each of his siblings lying dead. And this terrifies him; that somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, Zack has already given up on the X5s.
"Jondy," Zack's beside her in a second and he crushes her into a hug. Jondy wraps her arms around her neck, burying her face into his leather jacket, sobbing huge wracking sobs that shook her body. She clings to him like she used to cling to Zane, to Max.
Zack knows how to deal with anger, with heat, with fear. But he never quite knows what to do about tears. He can hold Jondy tightly, but he's never had Tinga's knack at saying the right thing at the right time.
"I'm sorry Zack," Jondy manages, between sobs. "I'm sorry."
He begins stroking her dark, tangled hair, cradling her body against his. "What's wrong Jon? What happened?"
"Nothing. Everything," Jondy said, her sobs slowly calming down. "I just…"
Zack pulls back slowly, holding Jondy's injured arm gently. It still oozes blood.
"I'll need to stitch that up," Zack says slowly. "I'll go down to the drug store to get some suturing thread. Will you be okay here by yourself?"
Jondy nods and stands up. "I-I guess I'll clean this up," she says slowly, wiping her eyes with the edge of her nightdress.
Two hours later and Jondy's arm is stitched up with black suturing thread, a white bandage covering them. The bathroom is now clear of blood smears and shatter glass. Jondy's hair is scraped back into a braid and she silently eats the Chinese food Zack brought with him. They both focus on the television, avoiding the conversation that will ultimately lead to awkward silence.
"Jondy," Zack says, after a little while.
"Zack," Jondy repeats, in exactly the same tone.
"What happened?" Zack asked.
She doesn't look at him. "Just … I went into heat and I had seizures and I just broke or something. I'm okay now."
"What about later?" Zack said, resting his hand on her shoulder. "You know I can't stay." He hates to think of what would have happened to Jondy if he hadn't turned up. It was like all of his worries coming true at once.
"Later is later," Jondy laid back against Zack, her eyes still focused on the television. Parallel processing. "When it happens, you can help me."
The edge in her voice signifies the end of the conversation. As Zack relaxes, watching the television show again, he realises that there's an easiness between them now. Like maybe they were a normal brother and sister.
And he wonders if they'll ever be able to recreate this moment in a different month, a different year, a different city, state, country. If she'll readily talk to him, so trusting, for her whole like. If it'll always be him, Zack, and her, Jondy.
But, Zack reminds himself, Jondy's right. That's later. He'll worry about that when it happens.
---
If you would like to see Esperarle-Jondy and Zack in Esperarle's cover art, please visit http://www.twisted-logic.com/fanart/esperarle.gif. :)