Jessie felt far weaker than she had done in a long while, not because she'd lost a good deal of blood, but the creature had leeched energy in the short time it had possessed her. She felt numb; not only from the cold water lashing her mercilessly—mainly from the way her best friend (no, ex-best friend, she corrected herself) hurt her with more than just his nails. That had been the final nail hammered into their friendship—he was on one side, sealing the lid, and she was choking for air on the other side as he lowered her beneath him. She'd reached the stage of trauma where she couldn't cry anymore, nor could she reveal her misery in any way. She could hit her head against a wall and nothing would register in her system; she wasn't even aware of the violent shivering her body underwent. She was still losing blood but it was more of a steady drip than the gushing it had initially been. She didn't want to kill him, yet it seemed the only end to her self-hatred. Her heart leapt to her mouth as she heard a swift knock upon the door. She knew she was vulnerable and he had the key—if he came in she knew she didn't have a chance.
"Go away!"
"Jess, let me apologise; I don't know what just came over me, are you all right?"
"Do you think I'm okay after something like that?"
"No, of course not. It was a stupid question"
"Do you still think I deserved it? I didn't use malice when I screwed you over yet you feel it was a crime that I deserve death for"
"You're not dying are you? Oh gods I didn't hit an artery did I? Jess believe me when--"
"Why should I listen to you? I'm not
dying, but you will be if you continue to pester me. Fuck off and don't return"
With silent tears pacing along his face as if it were a ski slope, he followed her advice. Once he reached the door outside, he ran as hard as he could for as long as he could, stopping only when the tears tore what little breath he had from him. She was right, she may have crushed him last week, but she hadn't intentionally done it through viciousness like he had. He vaguely noted the excruciating pain returning to his back as he wallowed in anger, pain and disgust simultaneously, not hearing the creature creeping up behind him, its goal solidly set intensely into its head.
In spite of her not wanting to do it, Jessie returned to the bedroom once she was certain that James had left the shack for good, in search of something dry to put on, something that would cover as much of her body up as possible. She picked up her diary and was going to finish writing the day's entrants when she remembered James had been writing in it. Her blood ran cold in shock as she read the notes left for her on each day. Bitch. Slut. Worthless tramp. Lying excrement. Moral-less. Callous whore. There were many others far more graphic and nastier than those, but for rating value as one reason it would not look very nice in print if all descriptions of his ex-best friend were given. She turned to Tuesday to see what he'd written, in disbelief that she had been becoming in the mood for sex whilst he was writing as much to degrade her as possible.
Screwed partner and his head too. He's such an easy target, glad that I didn't have to bother my lazy worthless ass going any further than five feet for an easy lay, but of course it takes one to know one. I was brutal in bed as always, yet it was fun to drive his emotions in one direction, and then send them completely in the opposite direction. I'd nearly do it again, if only to see his face when I told him what I thought of him. But that isn't going to happen, there's nothing in this world that would make me go that low again, as nothing could ever equal my self-disgust. Correction: disgusting self.
Orbs of salty water sprang from her eyes and splashed down on the page, causing the ink to travel all across the page and making the hastily written words appear more sinister than before. She couldn't say anything though; it was her doing that created his hurt like this. She angrily slammed the book shut and stormed out of the bedroom, taking meticulous steps to avoid walking in her clotting blood on the floor. It hurt like hell for her to walk as it wasn't at all pleasant to her new wounds, but she didn't want to stay in the room where she'd received them a moment longer.
Misty walked dejectedly back to camp, noticing Togepi was safe on the grass, apparently having finished with its electric blue levitation cloud murmuring in its sleep about whatever dream it was encountering in its subconscious levels. (AN: Yep, Charles Rocketboy, it probably is making its plans to obliterate the planet!) She noticed how Pikachu resembled a pincushion and instantly went over to it and quietly asked what was wrong. Pikachu squeaked out a reply instead of its usually confident voice, but once she had the gist of what was wrong she lost all feelings of jealousy and disgust and immediately began on working out a plan where they could make a fast exit without Ash asking any questions. She didn't mind Brock knowing as he saw the sensible side of life and would get out immediately as opposed to standing ground and fighting an opponent of which they knew nothing. Then the perfect idea sparked into her head, and she pulled it into action after fighting Brock away from his perverted dreams and telling him what Pikachu had said. She shook Ash violently awake, excitedly telling him something he would consider of great importance.
"Ash, hey Ash do wake up! I just heard about this awesome competition on in Violet City; the trainer at least ten miles away from there to bring a pokémon resembling a household object will win a prize, and instant access into the Silver Conference! I've been working on it with Pikachu and he looks like a comb don't you think?"
"Wha--?"
"Look at Pikachu and see if you agree. Of course, if you won, it'd be something you'd have that Gary never would"
"Grrrr that Gary! Lead me to this competition, I'm not letting him beat me in this, I'll show him…."
Pikachu rolled its eyes, feeling disgusted that the person who aspired to be the greatest trainer in the world could fall for anything at the mention of his rival—he'd gotten up to march off to a city miles away in the dead of the night just to win a title that didn't exist. In fact the rodent often wished Gary had been the one that overslept, as it would mean a different trainer for the pokémon and it might need to use its brain once in a while when it wished to deceive its trainer. Plus Gary could probably put on his jeans the right way around, unlike Ash who was also wondering where the buckle on his belt had gone when it was really unfastened on the other side.
James' misery and self-loathing distracted him altogether from realising the pain was fifty times worse than before, nor did he realise that the creature was standing right behind him now, its hand stretching out to touch the back of his exposed neck…