Sorry for tha lateness, I do still love you guys. But writing, stories at least, has dropped a bit on my to-do-list… sigh… everything just eats up my time…
Enjoy,
Jay PoV
I was angry, yes, furious, to say the least. How dare he! Messing with me, heck, messing with poor Nick like that!
Sure, go pick on the weird, freaky girl. That will make you look cool. Sure, go play with a musicians emotions, that's a brilliant idea!
Hormonal teenagers! I huffed to myself as I walked outside, the coldness of the air hitting my face, forcing me to close my eyes.
I mean, at least the young Jonas tried. He was doomed, but he tried to be nice. No one ever fucking tried to be nice to me.
"Hey! Wait up!"
I almost lost my balance hearing that voice.
I turned around. "Nicholas?" I asked, looking at his guilty, yet oddly proud expression.
"Well, yeah, that's my name." He answered, out of breath, his normally already messy curls even messier and all over his face.
"What is it now?" I asked, holding back my emotions like I had so many times before.
"Proving that I won't say goodbye." He breathed, standing up straight after catching his breath. "You walk fast by the way; I had to run through the whole school to catch up with you."
"I have a history with escaping." I told him, coldly, but very truthfully.
He stared at me for a second. "I know." He answered.
"Then why are you here? I told you to go back to your happy-world, I do not want to see another innocent get hurt, I've seen way too much of that!"
He seemed to be slightly taken back, but replied quickly, his eyes somehow managing to shine with concern.
"What about your own innocence?" He asked, his distractingly brown orbs staring down into mine.
His question caught me off guard, as I stared back stubbornly, until he looked away.
"I do not really care. I can have it." I answered.
"Well, I don't really care about mine either. I'm not known for giving up."
It touched me, somewhere, making me calm down to my usual, emotionless self. "Wouldn't want to ruin your image, now would we?"
"All I want is to help!" He told me, a scowl on his face. "And since you won't let me, I'm just going to do what I'm good at, being a friend. I... I will be there for you."
Anger, finally an emotion I could comprehend.
"How were you planning on being a friend to a fucked up person." I asked, smirking.
He lost his anger immediately. "That is very simple. You'll see. I won't hurt you, I won't ever say goodbye to you."
"Fine!" I groaned, officially giving up on his sanity. "As long as you don't write me a song."
He smiled and then looked away almost guilty-like.
"Great, you already did that." I rolled my eyes, musicians…
"Sorry." He apologised, walking after me as I started to walk away. "I can't really help it."
I sighed and looked back, almost smiling at his face. "I know."
"Just so you know, I loved what you did back there, got Van Dyke nice. You could be an actress as seductive as you were first period."
"I know my way around fooling too, I play with emotions." I said, adding loads of sarcasm as he almost, almost, smiled too. "So what are you going to do now huh, I'm still not believing you, everyone says goodbye, everyone hurts me. You will too, why waste your time and make it hurt more?"
"My plan was just to walk you home…"
I shot him a glance and he winced.
"Okay, almost home. See if I can get you to open up a little, one person can't possibly bottle all that hurt." He said, the look on his face soft and honest.
Once again he surprised me. Nobody ever was friends with me; I was fine with that, people only acted nice to me if they wanted something from me. This seemed, no strings attached.
"Fine, be stubborn like that. It's not like you can stop the obvious outcome of this. You're just delaying it."
He was silent after that and I was sort of happy with his silent presence next to me as we walked the doomed path, now a little bit lightened up.
"You should go now." I told him.
"I don't really want to, I feel like a coward for running off like that." He said, staring down the street.
"Believe me; I have that all the time, the urge to run off." I said, staring with him sadly. "But seriously, go, he won't like to see you and you will not like to se him either."
"Why do you care?"
"Nobody said going to hell has to be done right."
I walked away, leaving him standing there.
Nick PoV
She walks away and suddenly, every colour starts fading to grey. Like with her, the world lights up a bit, even with her scarred presence.
Then, another thing I had been thinking about came to my mind. "Jay?" I asked. Making the red-head turn around.
"What?"
"How come you have no injuries? You know, after what happened to you."
"You do not want to know that. It will freak you out even more and I actually like this friendship thing for a change. Now get your butt out of here before it starts to feel very sorry."
She said it very casually, like she said all the things that made me cringe and wince on the inside. Without emotion, hiding the pain, because it must be there. Deep down, buried deep within the little body.
"Okay." I agreed and then turned around. Hating myself more then ever as I left her there in the hell hole, just for her to be screwed up more.
Literally.
Wince.
"Hey Nick!" A happy voice behind me said. "What are you doing here?"
I turned around and saw the happy form of Macy Misa. Her smile was bright, slightly confused, but nevertheless happy to see me.
"Hi Mace." I greeted her, quickly glancing into the direction of the house at the end of the street. "Um… I… What are you doing here?"
"Hey! I asked first." She laughed, tucking her head to the side to see what I was looking at as my brain started to come up with the most ridiculous excuses so I wouldn't spill Jay's secret.
"I'll tell if you tell." I said.
She frowned suspiciously (I always had thought Macy was a smart one) but answered. "I'm helping cleaning up this neighbourhood, voluntarily of course. It gets really nasty down here, they even say there's human-dealing involved in some clubs down here, so I'm helping fixing that. Not the criminality of course, but I do my best."
She smiled as she waved around, as indeed I saw a few others in similar 'save the in need of saving' T-shirts.
"Ah-ha." I reacted. "You are pretty busy aren't you? Sports, school, Stella, this, the JONAS-fan club."
Her smile got even brighter. "Yeah, well, I manage."
I smiled back at her, making her squeal a little. "I think it's really cool that you're doing that."
"Really?!" She yelled, then slapping her hand to her mouth to make herself stop screaming.
"Really. Um... Can I help?" I offered, half really liking the idea of volunteer-work, half wanting to stay close to Jay in one way or another, half avoiding her earlier question and half wanting to avoid Joe's interrogation when I would get home.
Yes, I know that all makes two.
"Sure! We were just about to hand out some supplies to the needing. They'd love you to help." Macy said, as a big load of stuff got handed to me.
Suddenly, we heard a pitching scream, coming from the end of the street.
"What was that?" Macy asked, terrified.
I wanted to tell her, I really did, but I couldn't get the words out.
A young innocent girl is getting abused and maybe raped again there and there's nothing, bloody nothing I can do about it.
So I said: "I don't know." And she swallowed.
The rest of the afternoon I spend with Macy and her not-obsessed-with-JONAS-volunteers. It was kind of fun, though the scream, as if taped into my brain, kept repeating.
Wince.
{Next morning, at school}
"Nick!" Stella whined.
"What is it, Stella?" I asked her, tiredly smiling at her.
"Those bruises don't look good with that outfit you're wearing." She pointed out the dark circles underneath my eyes.
I guess it's what you get after a night dreaming of the most horrible scenes you can imagine. Green eyes in pain.
"Nick!"
"Stella, please. Cut me some slack, I don't like it any more then you do." I said, as friendly as I could in my anxious state.
Stella wanted to start ranting again, but Macy stopped her. "Calm down Stella. It's not like he can help it."
I shot Macy a thankful glance, witch she repeated a lot less enthusiastic then she would've before yesterday. She had turned out to be a great person to talk to and we had a lot in common.
"He was helping me with my volunteer-work all afternoon. I hope it didn't interrupt your rehearsal-schedule?"
"No, it didn't. Rehearsals are this afternoon; I just had a rough night." I shushed her as Stella shot me an apologetic smile. "I had a lot on my mind."
"Like your new girlfriend." Joe laughed.
"Stop making fun of that Joe, it's not funny! She's pretty messed up!" I told him, wanting him to understand what I, what Jay, was going through. I could shoot myself for giving that as my brothers and friends all stared at me with 'what aren't you telling us
Looks.
"She's already here you know, you can stop staring at the entrance." Kevin told me.
"Huh?" I reacted.
"Jay, your girl? She's in the atrium, pretty nasty cut on her face." He answered, pointing towards the glass-room with his guitar.
Staring at him, I grabbed my bag, ready to run for the atrium and check the damage.
"Nick! Stop!" Joe ordered. Witch surprised me; I never had heard Joe speak like that.
"Listen, we're worried." He said, putting his hand on my shoulder. His eyes worried. "Listen bro, we're here for you!"
"We are." Kevin agreed.
I swallowed and stared at their faces, reading the pain on them. I knew it was hurting them, not knowing, Joe releasing that in making lame jokes and Kevin by just being miserable, but I couldn't tell them.
"I'm sorry guys." I whispered and turned around. Not glancing back at their probably hurt faces.
Jay PoV
I touched the cut on my cheek and sighed, he stayed with me last night and brought me to school this morning, to strengthen the image and show off his dominance over me.
I hated his voice when he told me "have a nice day." A nasty smile saying; 'and after that'.
Because of that, I didn't get a chance to clean myself up. All the things he did were now visibly there and I knew he loved that, his marks on my body. His claims all over his belonging.
I bit the inside of my cheek, wrong move, as the cut sprang open again and a sharp pain shot through my face.
"Ouch." I groaned, feeling the blood on my finger-tips. I stared at the crimson drops in wonder, thinking about how much of that he had spilled all my life.
I felt oddly good, somehow feeling Nick's presence in my thoughts. It made me feel better and of course, Matt noticed.
"You seem happy." He said slyly, already sitting on the couch as I walked through the door, his eyes on me. Hunger in them.
"Believe me, I'm not." I told him.
"Not happy to see me, bitch?" He asked, laughing at my attempt of rebellion. "Because I'm certainly happy to see you."
I swallowed. Still feeling the places he had bruised last night. The melodies healed the wounds, not the pain.
"I have schoolwork." I said. Stalking up the stairs.
"You go do that; I'm expecting a call anyway." He said, his eyes back on the TV, almost seeming like a normal person. His half-long brown hair in his electric blue eyes. The tall body I hated with passion, as he touched mine with the same emotions, sprawled out on the couch. His whole body spoke of his self-confidence and ego. Oh how great he was, his power and control.
I was sad to say he had just that. Me wrapped in his sticky net, all control, my submission, all the freakin' time.
I hurried upstairs and threw myself on the bed in the master-bedroom. A bed I had to share with him. He wouldn't let me sleep anywhere else. I hated that, sleeping in his smell. Then again, everything about him remembered me of the countless times his fist had blackened my skin, brought blood from my veins, had intruded me.
I lied there, in fear, for almost 10 minutes, hearing the call downstairs start and end.
My muscles tensed as clouds of black blurred my sight, his footsteps on the stairs, getting louder and closer.
"Hello my little vixen." He slurred. "I have a present for you."
He slapped the cheek I wasn't lying on, making me turn around and sit up, drawing my knees to my chest. His eyes were devilish, insane in happiness I could never understand, knowledge of the hurt he was going to cause me reflecting in them.
He crawled over to me, grabbed my hair and dragged me closer, so I was half-lying against his chest. I gritted my teeth at the stings, but did not give him the satisfaction of a scream. That humiliation would come later.
I felt a cold material in his hand as he pressed it against my throat, surprisingly, it wasn't sharp. Not a knife.
I heard a click and a masochistic laugh. "You're mine, only mine."
He slapped me.
"Look at it." He whispered in my ear as he held up a small mirror. Vain bastard.
I watched at the object around my throat and screamed, high-pitched and terrified.
Around my neck was a collar, like a dogs', with the word WHORE carved into it.
He laughed at my disgust, distress and fear. Enjoyed my attempts to get away from him.
He threw me on the ground, my head hitting the bed-side table before coming in contact with the ground, cutting into my cheek.
He stood up and towered above me.
He kicked me, straight into the ribs. Kicking the air from my lungs.
"How does it feel, abandoned slut? To be my whore?" He spat. Pulling me up again.
"I hate it." I coughed, feeling blood on my tongue. "I hate everything about you."
He watched me, his tanned hand around my throat. "See? That's what I like about you, nasty little vixen. Breaking you is so much fun."
Then, he threw me against the wall, hard.
I fell down, landing in a mess of limbs and pain. Feeling tears glide over my cheeks, stinging in the new wound.
"Feel it. You're mine. No one care's about you."
I tugged at the colour as new tears, just a few of so much, rolled down again.
"He's right." I whispered to myself. "No one cares about me, I better be dead, then I wouldn't have to feel this."
I know I sounded bitter and suicidal. But maybe Nick was right; one person couldn't bare all of that.
"It's not true." The voice I had been thinking about said. "I do care."
I looked to the side and found the new-cherished face.
"Nick." I whispered and then threw myself into his arms. The contact making me feel awkward and giving me the creeps, but his real human-warmth was comforting.
Then, I cried, for real, for the first time in years, now that I had someone else then just myself to cry for. I cried.
I cried for the hits, the kicks. The cuts and the abuse.
I cried about he let me be used by his friends, while he watched. I cried about how he tortured me, how he hurt me over and over again. Making my life to a living hell. Breaking my soul and mind, mixing and playing with my feelings until only a blur of darkness and hurt was left.
I cried over him, about my real family, who had thrown me out of their lives. About all the times he had forced me to do things I did not want, about how stupid I was, how much the word on that collar was true.
I cried, because he, the guy with the loving eyes and beautiful voice, cared. It was so strange and still. The feeling of actual concern, his arms around me, comforting. Helping me. It was the nicest thing I had ever felt.
--
Just keep in mind that Jay was used to keep in all her emotions for almost all her life, witch is why she isn't sad or depressed all the time and well, the girl has spine. So she isn't a broken piece of mess. That's just not who she is.
Yes, she has the ability to heal herself through music, but she still feels the pain the wounds caused.
Just feelin' of clearing that up :)
PLEASE REVIEW… -begs on knees-
I reply to each and every one of them, because I adore the people that are cool enough to feedback another writer, seriously, PURE UNDIVIDED LOVE TO THEM. 3