I know, I know. A month! I'm so, so sorry. Life and school reared their ugly heads at me. Any of you in university should understand. But I'm back! I should be studying right now but, hey. I've neglected you all far too long!
Trigger: references to self-harm
Disclaimer: these lovely characters are not mine
…
Pictures, voices. Floating in, floating out. Colours. Words.
Faggot.
Broken.
Crazy.
Dyke.
Stupid.
Useless.
Selfish.
Queer.
Hopeless.
…
Jane woke in a cold sweat. Goddamnit.
She wiped furiously at the tears on her face and sat up in her narrow dorm bed. Her sheets were damp, twisted around her body. She sat, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Her alarm clock flashed 2:37, and by its red light and the small sliver wriggling its way under her door, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood on unsteady feet.
Four steps.
A creak as she opened the wardrobe.
Move past cotton and wool until there. Her winter jacket.
Inside pocket.
The too-familiar smoothness of her switchblade.
Jane stood in sock feet with her hand in the wardrobe, wrapped around her knife. Willing herself to leave it there, to be stronger, better.
I can't. This is all I know. This is the way it has to be.
Faggot. Broken. Crazy. Dyke. Stupid. Useless. Selfish. Queer. Hopeless.
I'm not.
Yes. Yes, you are.
She clenched her fist around the switchblade and pulled back. Pain, release, hurt, and comfort in tow.
…
The sun broke through the tiny window and Jane groaned. She opened her eyes, but they felt like they were full of sand. She blinked, once, twice.
And then she remembered.
Fuck.
She dragged herself into a sitting position and cautiously flipped over her arm.
Fuck.
Four angry red slices surrounded by rusty brown smears. They had bled throughout the night.
Why do you do this to yourself? You're the reason you're so goddamn broken. Fuck you Rizzoli. Fuck you.
Just then there was a knock on the door.
Shit.
"Who is it?"
"Open up, Rizzoli!"
Frost. Jane leapt out of bed, kicked her blade under the desk and shoved her arms through yesterday's sweatshirt.
By the time she hauled the door open she was out of breath, though from exertion or stress she wasn't sure.
"Woah, hey, are you okay?" Frost looked concerned. Uh-oh.
"Um, yeah. Why?"
"You're bleeding."
Jane swung around and looked at the mirror on the door of her wardrobe. Fuck!There was a smear of blood across her forehead. She must have done it in her sleep.
"Oh… that. I, uh, I'm a klutz. Tripped and cut my knee last night before bed, must've done that pushing my hair out of the way or something. No big deal."
Frost snorted. Jane relaxed.
"So. Want to wash off the blood and come to the café for breakfast?"
"Yeah, okay. Gimme a sec."
Jane closed the door, with Frost promising to wait in the hall and slumped against the wall.
That was close. You're such an idiot.
She shook the thoughts out of her head, shoved on a pair of jeans, and grabbed a washcloth. The bathrooms were down the hall.
…
The cafeteria was buzzing. Students everywhere with plastic trays heaped high with bacon, eggs, toast, and, sometimes, fruit. Frost slung his jacket over a table to reserve it and they separated; Frost towards the bacon and Jane towards the pancakes. It wasn't until she was in the line that she realized. She hadn't had pancakes since her last summer at her nonna's. She hadn't wanted them. Pancakes were her nonna's Saturday signature. Pancakes, sausages and coffee. And a smile. Always a smile. Jane never cut at her nonna's.
"Hey kid."
Jane jerked her head up. The woman behind the counter held out a plate; three pancakes instead of two. A wink and a smile. "Keep your head up kid."
Jane swallowed. Nodded. Took the plate.
If only it was that easy.
…
After breakfast, Frost headed to the Lawn for a frosh activity and Jane found herself wandering through the academic buildings. Swirling staircases and strangely shaped ceilings for engineering, shiny stainless steel and pristine white walls for science, towering green wall for environmental studies, and… what was this?
The walls were all curves and no edges. Soft grey. Purple curtains on the windows. The doors were thick, windowless wood. Jane meandered through two such hallways before she came to a set of ornate double doors. Before long, curiosity got the better of her and she slowly pushed them open.
Oh.
Oh.
It was an auditorium full of plush red seats and there, at the front of the room, was a sleek black Steinway. With tunnel vision Jane padded towards the piano. She'd never played a Steinway.
Seven steps up to the stage and she was there. She sat on the bench and let her fingers ghost over the keys. Making no conscious decision to do so she felt her fingers flow over the keys and closed her eyes as the sound of Fa la Ninna fa la Nanna washed over her.
As she played the last notes of the lullaby she sighed. And then—
"You're very good."
Jane nearly fell off the piano bench as she whirled around. Maura was sitting in the middle of the auditorium; book in hand, a cautious smile on her face as she stood up and began moving towards the stage.
"I-I didn't hear you come in."
Maura wrinkled her brow, confused. "I was here before you, Jane. Didn't you see me?"
"Oh.. I must not have. I was, uh, distracted I guess." She patted the Steinway stupidly.
Maura was nearly there now, climbing those seven steps.
"You played Brahm's Lullaby."
"Actually, it was an old Italian lullaby. It's the same music as Brahm's, but different lyrics. My Nonna used to sing it to me."
Woah. Oversharing much?
Maura didn't seem to mind though. "It was very beautiful. I used to play violin when I was young, and it still calms me to be in an auditorium such as this one."
"Studying again?" Jane jerked her head to the book in Maura's hand. It was thick, at least four hundred pages.
Maura smiled, "No actually, I'm just doing a bit of light reading before the semester begins. This is Forensic Histopathology by Reinhard Dettemeyer. It's really very lovely. I'm learning quite a lot about how microscopy can help one clarify the cause of sudden or unexpected death!"
Maura's cheeks were tinged pink with excitement and her eyes were bright. So adorable.
Stop it.
But she is.
Not to you.
Why not?
Because.
But—
Stop.
As Jane went through her internal conflict, Maura continued gushing about antibodies and stainings. Eventually Maura stammered to an end as she realized that she had been quoting Dettemeyer for the past seven and a half minutes.
Before Jane noticed that she had stopped talking, she noticed that the blush had changed and her eyes were downcast instead of shining with enthusiasm.
"I'm sorry Jane. I find this all very fascinating, but I'm sure you're rather bored with it…"
"No! Of course not. I mean.. it's a little intense. And I don't know what it means. But you looked like you were having fun talking about Dettimerer and his… forensic stuff."
"It's Dettemeyer Jane," Maura laughed. "And yes, I do quite enjoy sharing the information that I learn. Many people get rather annoyed with it though. I could leave you to continue playing if you wish?"
"No, I mean, you… you don't have to. Maybe we could, I don't know, get a coffee or something. You can tell me more about Dettemeyer."
Maura looked thrilled and Jane, well Jane just pointedly ignored the tumultuous something that was happening in her stomach, told her brain to shut up and smiled.
Coffee with Maura.
Why was that so exciting?
…
AN: "Why do you do this to yourself? You're the reason you're so goddamn broken. Fuck you Rizzoli. Fuck you."
She's wrong. Any of you out there who harm yourselves, she's wrong. You'll see that in later chapters. I've been where you are. It's not your fault. You're not broken. You're just you, and someday you'll find a way to either accept your feelings or express them in healthier ways.
We don't know each other. I don't know your story and you don't know mine. But I'm here if you need someone.
With love,
R&D