Chapter 59j: Survivors Guilt

My fingers absently tap on the window of the bus.

Survivors guilt.

That is what mom called it yesterday.

I laughed it off then... but the more I think of the term, the more it hurts. Just how right can she possibly be?!

The landscape still passes by as if nothing is going on. In the reflection I can barely see that the frustration has me biting my lower lip as I continue to inwardly rebuke myself.

Face it, Jen. It is the facts. You're feeling fucking guilty over winning one over on that shitty brother of hers.

She's living with us. And the only way she'd live with us is if she wanted to live with us. There's nothing more to it than that!

Unfortunately, this is one of those situations where the head and the heart are at a staunch disagreement, and resolving it is apparently as old a problem as any. It has caused wars and bloodshed and a lot of other suffering, nevermind the fact it is a suffering affliction itself to begin with!

I didn't have to wear that ridiculous outfit for her... but I did.

I didn't have to give her my share of our earnings... but I did.

She's more fond of sweets than I am, anyways.

I didn't even have to splurge on that self-drawing-hands poster print of one of Eschers works that she saw in the library. But yet again... I did.

I didn't have to do any of it!

I would never have done at least the first one!

THe others.. maybe. She's Setty. I'd have spoiled her a bit no matter what, I think. Little siblings are meant to be spoiled by their older siblings. It's just how it is supposed to be!

Could I go cold turkey on spoiling her? To deny and end this guilt from continuing? But wouldn't I be a terrible sister if I did that? Just like a switch? Ughhhh...

In the reflection of the window, I notice a gaze. Ah crap.

Another horndog stare.

Usually, I'd ignore it, but I fucking like my outside-the-window-mind-cocoon too much to let him bash his way in like this without punishment.

I turn my head, and give him a vile stare. He averts his gaze, blushing a bit knowing that I caught him.

This stuff happens far too often nowadays. Just because I'm a damn girl with tits and red hair does not mean I want to be the subject of your dirty little fantasies, asshole!

As I am about glance away again, he seems to have changed his mind, and stood up from his seat to sit besides me. Fuck. Wasn't I clear enough?

"Hi. I'm Pete."

He's holding his hand out for me to shake it, and I'm just staring at him in the hope he'll get the message.

"You seem to be a bit out of sorts. Anything I can do to help?"

I do my best to suppress my inner groan. It's a fucking white knight. The saviour of girls everywhere that never need their fucking grandstanding witticisms. Do they actually have any success with this kind of lame opener after having been caught perving to begin with?

It was the lip bite that made him take the plunge, wasn't it? Ugh. I swear I need to start wearing a mask to stop getting this kind of annoying bullshit attention.

"You can fuck off, Peter."

The hostility dripping off my voice ought to leave no chance for a misunderstanding anymore. He frowns, sighing as he realizes he isn't ever going to even get to entertain the dream of reaching 'first base' with me.

"Look, you're pretty, but you are also a pretty stupid bitch. No need for the attitude, okay? I was just trying to help."

I roll my eyes and look out of the window to avoid further conversation. He turns to look to the front, but it isn't as if I can't feel his gaze dirtying me up from the corner of his eye.

Ugh. You are so going to regret this, Peter.

Ten minutes later, we finally reach his stop, and he stands up to leave. Fine.

I'll give you a parting gift, asshole.

"I'm sorry, okay? Just a bad day. Have a nice day, Peter."

I'm not an actor, but it isn't like guys are particularly observant when their brains are between their legs. Something as simple as a light touch on his shoulder makes him glance back at me with a hopeful smile, shaking his head.

"It's Pete. No worries. Maybe we'll meet again some day, okay?"

He sounds so hopeful and proud. Yes. You've got an ego, I got it.

I force a smile to my lips as he leaves, and as the bus moves back into motion.

It is too bad he lost his wallet.

Ooh, ten quid. I'll take that.

Aww, look at that library card. He was cuter whenever that picture was taken.

I hope that girl in his wallet isn't his girlfriend. The picture seems a bit too old, so probably not. But I'd pity her greatly if he is in fact her boyfriend. Stupid horndog.

That Barclays card? I'll break it for you, don't worry. Nobody will get into your account. But you'll still have to order a replacement, asshole.

After I finish rifling through his wallet, I press the signaling button and move to stand as my own stop is finally coming up. I toss the wallet in a corner underneath a chair, far away from where I'm at. Just to deny it, if worst comes to worst.

As I leave the bus, I find myself wearing a far better mood on my face than I was when I got into the bus. Shopping for gifts with a scowl isn't any good.

Then.. I realize.

There's no way that asshole is getting himself a new card before the holiday shopping season is over its apex. A bubbling laughter escapes me that attracts the attention of some other passersby, but I just give them a fuck-you-the-fun-is-mine-to-have glance back.

Merry early-christmas, Peter!