Chapter 4- Jamais

It was late in the summer by the time I talked myself into going back to visit Jisei. I hadn't been to the asylum in quite some time, I must admit, and with every day that passed, I felt the pangs of guilt gnawing away on my already blackened soul. I have no clue why I felt so guilty about leaving her alone in that maddening place. She seemed to enjoy the quiet solitude of her own creation over that of the clubs and the bustling crowds of the city. And her strange infatuation with her patients had left me all alone while I was there. Sometimes, she would run off to 'study' her patients, and would stay up there for hours and hours on end doing who knows what, while I sat below deck, swallowed up in a swarm of painfully white walls and lights which often times caused my vision to blur. I knew that if I stayed there, all alone, for much longer, I was going to need to be committed myself.

Yet, there was no mentioning that to Jisei. I remember once I approached to speak with her about it. Of course, I've always been a bit hostile, easily angered- especially by friends. It was this temper than so often got me in trouble. This time was no different. I remember having been asked to watch the desk one morning while Ji went off to spend some quality time with her patients. Yet, as the hours rolled by and not a soul came through the glass doors of the hospital, my mind began to reel. Boredom overtook my every motive, and with boredom came the aggressive, tempermental side of me that was often unleashed at the worst possible times. With a sudden surge of withheld energy, I flung the papers from the desk and stormed off towards the rows upon rows of padded cells. I was going to tell Jisei how I felt, once and for all.

"Jisei! We need to talk!" I screamed as I approached her from the distance. She made no motion to listen. In fact, she did not even acknowledge my presence. Slowly, the anger within me swelled, soaking up each second I was ignored, throwing me into a fit of rage that was going to be my ruin some day. "Jisei! Do you hear me? Turn around and look at me! Jisei!" By now, I was physically shaking her back and forth, all my rage thrown into each forceful jerk I gave. Finally, I got the answer I had been waiting for. Timid, innocent little Jisei. Sometimes, she could make me sick. And other times… "W-What's wrong, Jam?" she questioned, her form visibly shaking. "First of all, I don't appreciate being ignored." I informed her, leaning up against a wall.

"I… I'm sorry, Jam. I didn't hear you."

"Yeah, I'm sick of your excuses. Same way I'm sick of being left down there by myself while you're up here bonding with your dearest patients!" I could taste the cold sarcasm as it dripped from my lips. Really, I never meant to be so harsh. Yet Ji seemed so indifferent to it. It was almost as if she could care less. Sometimes, I wondered if she cared at all.

"I'm sorry Jamais, but it's my job!" she responded in the quiet, submissive voice which I had had such a craving to hear only moments before. Suddenly, I no longer longed for the very inferiority she seemed to present to me so naturally, and rather it made me sick to my stomach. This was my friend! How could she act like this! No, how could I act like this! As if my own sudden convictions weren't enough, her gaze fell on me with all the honesty and innocence of a monk, and again she spoke, timidly. "…I'm a bad friend. I'm sorry. Work shouldn't come between me and my friends. I'll…. I'll try harder." She struggled out, turning back to her patient and tapping the glass softly. With that, she sighed and trotted off to her office.

Again, that stomach-churning sickness overtook me. The only thing that kept me from hurling right there on the spot was the fact that my supressed anger was beginning to fizz again. I was so angry. Angry at the world, angry at this… this prison, and most of all, angry at myself. To this day, I don't know why I took it all out on my dear friend, my young companion. Perchance it was her purity that I loved. Maybe it was her innocence that I longed for. Who knows, maybe it was just for the simple fact that she owed me so much, yet returned it only with the respect a daughter would give to her mother. Whatever it was, it brought out the monster in me every time.

It reminded me of all those years ago, those few remnants of the shady past I could never bring myself to reveal to her.

The first time I ever saw Jisei, she was a pitiful young circus slave. Each day, I would watch from the shadows as she worked and toiled behind the scenes, shoveling and lifting, washing and scrubbing. Each day, I watched as more and more scars appeared on her flesh, as the sweat raced down her face in the merciless summer sun. Each night, I followed her as she escaped from her cage and ran about, collecting whatever food or valuables she could scrounge up within an hours time.

There were quite a few things I had done in the shadows. For instance, while Jisei was out garbage picking during the night hours, I would often distract Douley and his henchmen when they came too close. How they hated cats. I was her guardian angel, and yet, she didn't know of my existence.

One day, I had been watching her from behind a tent when that fat slob Douley appeared. He really had a disliking for cats for some reason, especially I, who had prevented many a whipping for my young charge. "YOU!" He screamed one afternoon in his drunken voice. I looked up just in time to watch his fat, stubby leg come down upon my tail. With a yowl, I shot up his leg, digging my claws into his flesh and spitting unmercifully in every direction. He would feel my fury. My sudden attack only egged him on, however, as he began to scream profanities that no child's ears should ever hear. Jisei looked up just in time to watch as he shook me from his leg and then reached for a stick.

Nonetheless, I closed my eyes, ready to feel the pains of a death that I knew was inevitable. I awaited the skull-smashing blow from whatever large branch Douley would retrieve from behind some crate or barrel. Then, a miraculous thing happened. I felt myself fly through the air as if carried by some heavenly being who had rushed in to save me at exactly that moment.

And then I hear her yelp. Her single cry which sent so much pain reverberating through my flesh and soul. Immediately, I knew what had happened. Jisei had darted in to save me. She didn't fear the beating she was to get, either from the stick nor the metal of the whip which was sure to follow. She had paid a debt she hadn't even owed, to save me- whom she had never met- from the gruesome death which would have befallen me had she not been working outdoors that afternoon. Yet, had she not been working, I wouldn't have been in this predicament to begin with.

I was afraid to open my eyes. When I finally did, it was just in time to see Jisei lying face first in a puddle of her own blood, which flowed like a river from her mouth. She shuddered in some unexplainable pain that belonged to me. But she did not cry. Not once did she whimper. Not once did she even waver in her will to survive. Already, that heart of gold had begun to show through. She had looked death in the eyes to save some undeserving creature she had never even seen. I knew within myself that, had I been in her place, I would not have done the same thing.

And it was this heart of gold that I both loved and hated. It was this self-sacrificing love that filled me with woe and remorse, yet gave me hope and faith at the same time.

Lifting my gaze to the one who had caused such torment and pain to my dear friend, all that rage bubbled up and over as I saw what he was doing. With a smirk upon his face, I watched him lift the metal-tipped whip into the air, aiming it at the poor, defenseless sack of blood and bones lying in my place.

I would not let that happen. I could not let that happen.

In some burst of courage and sacrifice which I had never believed could come from such a tortured soul as me, I raced towards Douley, clutching the whip in my mouth. Some more profanities echoed from his mouth, and he again lifted the whip, now swinging it around and around and around. The blood rushed to my skull, and I was aware of the room going black, but just a simple gaze at my hero gave my the strength to go on. I went on until Douley tired out. Even for an obese, lazy man, he had quite an endurance level. Even just thinking about that time period, swinging about in the air like that, makes me dizzy. But I had returned the favor again. Again, we were even.

Yet somehow, I just couldn't bring myself to believe that.

Jisei, though not the brightest crayon in the box, has always had the will to carry on. What it is that gives her that strength I may never know. Nonetheless, she recovered from the blow in a remarkable period of time, and her body began to heal itself instantly. Though I knew the gash upon her face would not scar and would eventually heal, I knew the event had scarred us both for life.

And when she finally came too, she gave me the name "Ankh" for the blood-colored marking on my shoulder. She pledged her friendship and loyalty to me that day, saying she owed me her every life and limb. I took her in as my friend. I vowed to follow at her side, to watch over her like a hawk. Yet she claimed me as an adoptive mother. She began to follow my every word. I was her dominant, despite my every action to prove otherwise, and her will power was enough to force me to toss aside all ideas of changing her mind. As much I hated myself for it, from that day forward, I allowed the pride that her flattering words instilled upon my soul to fill me with an almost vain belief that she needed me. With her words, I began to believe that without my presence, she would die. In a way, she brain washed me into being superior. The very fact that she obeyed me from that day forward was enough to etch power into my mind, and it was enough to cause me to grow jealous of all those she would grow close too in the years to come. The idea that I was needed was enough to send my soul into a dark spiral of infinite lust for her to need me there with her, for her to need me to survive.

Yet now, here in the adult world where we were, she was my boss, my dominant. It was finally all as it should have been. She should've controlled me. She should have ruled over me with an iron fist. I should have groveled and obeyed, for she had saved my life so long ago, and I owed it to her. Yet, still, she was so incredibly lenient. Still, she gave into my every will, my every demand.

What was worse was the fact that she didn't know that I was her beloved Ankh. After a few years of circus life, she had begun to grow away from me, and began to grow closer to those who promised her a life of freedom. She began to leave me to seek private council with those who had the capabilities to give her life. I couldn't stand it. I resented it. I needed to be needed.

So I had left.

And now, she would never know.

Perchance that's why I hated her so. Her indifference, when she owed me the world. When I owed her my life. And not being able to tell her so.

That heart of gold.