Disclaimer: I disclaim.
The quote is taken from Moulin Rouge which I also do not own.
Chapter 2: Girl with the Broken smile
As she ran along the streets Jazz became worried, she didn't know where she was. Some of the houses seemed familiar, but Jazz couldn't be sure. She hadn't lived here long enough to know her way intimately round the streets of Japan, as she had been able to navigate the streets of London.
Maybe there is someone who I can ask directions from, thought Jazz, but as she lookedaround her all she saw was forbidding stares or ugly leers from the people on the streets. Great, I'm lost; I have no idea where I am, and my parent's are going to be mad at me. Not what I need after my first day at school.
Despite her parents adopting her only a few years ago she had instantly started calling them Mum and Dad. Maybe it was because she needed parental figures in her life; someone to cling to and go to for help, but it was never home. For her home was a dangerous place, with her brother waiting for the prophets of her trade, and more often then not, a 'friend' of his, who would be drugged up to the eye balls, and could be as violent as her brother. No, for Jazz it was far safer to think of it as the house where her parents lived, home was not a place she would look forward to going.
A car pulled up beside her, and immediately Jazz tensed. The car was old and rusty, and so dirty Jazz couldn't tell what color it had used to be. Heavy rock music was pounding out of the speakers, and the guy sitting in the car didn't look any less ominous. He had shaggy black hair, was wearing a bandana and was wearing an earring shaped like a dice.
"Hey, jump in babe; I'll take you where ever you want to go." He leered at her, allowing his eyes to run over every curve of her body.
Jazz couldn't help but give an involuntary shudder. She knew that look too well, and she knew what this guy wanted.
This place is going to be different; I will not let this happen. Jazz felt terrible. One look from this man brought back terrible memories. Memories of her brother, her customers, her friends who had turned on her, called her a slut, a whore. They were right of course, but it still hurt, she wasn't doing it because she wanted to, she was paying for her brother's addiction. No, she had sworn that it was going to be different over here.
"No, thanks, I would rather walk, but you could do me a favor, how do you get to this street," Jazz held out a small slip of paper with an address on it. Her parents had given it to her that morning, before she left for school, because they knew that she would never remember the address, and never remember how to get back to the street. The guy looked at her for a moment, clearly reassessing her.
"Sorry, I looked at your clothes, and what area of the city you're in, and I assumed something I shouldn't have. My name's Duke by the way, and sorry again." He held a hand out of the window, clearly wanting Jazz to shake it. She was still slightly nervous of him, but she wasn't going to let that show. She reached out a black taloned hand, and took his in hers.
"It's O.K, most people do assume, the worst when they see me," what Jazz didn't add was that, back in England, they were usually right. "I'm Jazz."
Duke smiled up at her, pleased that the misunderstanding had been cleared up so easily. "O.K, to get to your house, you follow this road as far as it goes…"He proceeded to give Jazz a long list of directions, which left her reeling.
"Ummm…you don't want to still give that lift do you," she asked with a sheepish grin, I would never be ale to follow those directions." Duke just smiled at her, and reached over to open the passenger door.
On the way back to Jazz's house, she and Duke talked, a lot, and they found out that they had loads in common. When thy pulled up out side the house it was getting dark, but Duke placed a quick kiss on her cheek and handed her a folded up piece of paper.
Jazz gave him a quick dazzling smile, before slamming the door shut, and running into the house.
Her parents were waiting for her, angry scowls on their faces. Jazz knew what was coming.
"Where have you been young lady, you're late, this is just not good enough…" It would go on and on. Jazz had no respect for their authority, she loved her parents, but she had no respect for them. Jazz had no respect for anyone, not even her self. For too long she had defied authority, so now it meant nothing to her.
She listened to what they said, and walked off, leaving them standing there. She went to her room, the only room in the house with western influence. Her she felt safe, here was her sanctuary. She could drop all pretences, all of the act. She could cry here and no one need know, her room was a refuge when it all became too much.
She turned to her CD player and the heavy beat of all Slipknot music came from the speakers. She loved this music because it reflected all of the pain inside her, all of the anguish; it was a way of release.
Jazz walked over to her wardrobe, moved all of her old clothes from the top shelf, and picked up a razor blade. The clothes were all brightly colored, a memory of a happier time, a time before the black took her.
She hurried to her bathroom, which was joined on to her bedroom. Locking the door behind her, Jazz sat on the edge of the bath. She pulled up her skirt, and looked at the cruel scars snaking up her legs. Soon there would be more joining them.
Jazz looked at the Razor, the light glinting on the blade, and she bit her lip. She knew this was wrong, that she shouldn't do this, but it was the forbidden fruit, and Jazz couldn't resist it. With one quick motion she sliced he blade across her thigh. The pain was exquisite, and Jazz gave an involuntary shudder as she saw her crimson blood, her life, flowing down her leg. She sliced her leg again, and then again, until all of the tension had flowed out of her body, all memories of today washed away with the blood, the pain, the mistakes, all of it gone.
Jazz washed away the blood, cleaned her leg up and opened the door to go downstairs. She hid the razor back under the clothes and turned the CD player off. Life was routine. That was good. Routine was safe.
As she headed downstairs she had to withstand the disapproving looks of her parents, but she sat down and ate all of the food they put in front of her with out complaint. Complaining never helped, and only degraded you; Jazz had learnt this from her time with her brother as well.
After Jazz had headed back upstairs and was playing her guitar as loudly as possible, her parents just sat and looked at each other. When they had adopted Jazz they knew that she came with a troubled past, but they wished an older child, and they were sure they could work through her 'problems'. They hadn't been quite prepared for what they got. They knew about the cutting, and her past history, the suicide attempt and the reason why, but they felt weak and powerless to stop Jazz's decline. She needed someone who was strong, and they knew that they weren't enough. They felt useless, and knew that they would have to do something drastic soon, something they may live to regret, but something that could save Jazz, if only she wanted to be saved.
Yugi was lying in his bed, wearing only his navy boxers. He was thinking about Jazz, how pretty she was when she smiled, how desperate she had looked before she had kissed him, how sad she had looked when she had run out of the games room. He had been thinking about her all day, and he had no idea why. Why he noticed every little thing she did, every little thing she said, every expression of her face, every movement she made, her soft lips pressing down on his.
Why, why does it always go back to the kiss? It was a mistake, and shouldn't have happened. Yugi could feel despair settling like a black cloud on his heart. He didn't even know if Jazz liked him, or if she had just needed someone and he was there. These feelings were ripping him in half.
My dear Yugi, you know you felt it too, the silver that bound you, you are one and the same, you are meant to be. Yami couldn't stand his light, part of him feeling like this. He loved his little Yugi,and couldn't stand the pain and anguish he was feeling. Have you ever heard of the soul mate principal? Yugi just shook his head, feeling puzzled. It was a theory developed around the time I was Pharaoh. It claims that in a person's life time they will meet the one person they will truly love, their soul mate. Incidents of this showed that the people felt silver binding them, or a cord, shining like moonlight. I know you felt this when you saw Jazz, she is your soul mate. Yugi started grinning at this, this meant that Jazz hadn't kissed him just because he was there, she loved him, and they were meant to be. Yami felt these feelings emerging from Yugi, and felt that he must warn him about something. It may take her a long time to realize what it is she is feeling. Something bad happened to her in the past, I can sense that much, and that she has not received much love, and she does not know how to give it. You may have to stick with her through every thing; things that will cause you pain, and will cause her pain. You must always be there for her, and one day she will realize what she has always known, and then you will be together. Yugi's euphoric mood left him at that, and he sat down heavily on the bed. He hadn't had many girlfriends, but he had been sexually active for a while, and he and Joey would go out some nights and pick up girls. Staying by Jazz until she finally realized what she wanted didn't really appeal to Yugi all that much, but if what the pharaoh said was true, well then, Yugi didn't have all that much choice.
He rolled over, turned on his music and went to sleep, dreams of Jazz filling his head.
Joey was lying in his bed, tracing patterns with his fingers on the pale back of the person lying in front of him. What would his friends think if they found out? Joey wasn't sure he wanted to find out. The person rolled over and quickly caught Joey's lips in a passionate kiss, which said more then any words could. 'Love me, don't leave me', it was exquisite.
Joey ran his hands up the well muscled chest, loving the feel of the silky skin under his fingers, before moving up to the adorable floppy white hair. Ryou was amazing, and Joey knew that he loved him.
"Hey sleepy head, think you should be getting home soon, parents might begin to worry," whispered Joey softly in Ryou's ear. Ryou groaned in reply, before kissing Joey again, and allowing his hands to slip down beneath the covers. Joey moaned with pleasure and kissed Ryou back, all thoughts of sleep, and parents forgotten.
Sometimes love is sweet and pure and innocent, the feelings expressed, but never demonstrated. Sometimes love is brutal and desperate and needy, the desire taking over, and the participants surrendering to their lust completely. Love can be bitter sweet, and can carve wounds deeper then any weapon. To live without love is like not living at all, and to grow up without love, without people you can say care for you is terrible. ' The greatest thing you will ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.'