HEY! I'm back! Sorry it took so long, so many stupid things going on in my life to have time to breathe. But whatever, it's over, and it's time for another riveting chapter of Looking Back, Moving Forward. We've certainly come a long way . I don't even know what to think of the drama in this anymore! Moving on, here's chapter 19.
Disclaimer: We still don't own it, but…your face! (Bad joke… haha)
Warning: A bit of swearing and violence in this one…you've been warned. Just skip the…well, you'll know when to stop if it offends you.
"I-I can't." Her words stumble as her tone falters, shaky and weak as tears caress the bottom of her eyes, sometimes daring to race down her cheeks, leaving stains on her ghost-white skin. Cat turns to leave the room, irritation etched in her face, wrinkling her eyebrows and creasing the lines on her forehead. She hears Jade sniffle again and stops, turning around slowly.
"Why?" It takes Cat a while to get the word out, and when she does it's airy, breathing has become hard for Cat. "We used to be so close…you used to tell me everything…there's nothing different about now and then that should make it so hard. I'm still the same, Jade! See?" She lets her hair out of her bun. Velvet red meets lavender cotton, and innocence is back on her face. Jade West is met with Cat Valentine, the bubbly carefree friend she once knew so well. What happened? Where did she go? Clea cries in her arms, and Cat takes her from Jade, holding her close. A child. She lost a child. Her little boy. It's time, Jade. You have to tell her.
"He has your son. Aiden's with him." Cat stops mid rock and Jade looks straight into her friend's chocolate brown doe-eyes. The twinkle of innocence that once held a permanent place is long gone. A flicker of hope, a shadow of despair, and a pool of unshed tears look back at her. "I saw him….It-" She stops mid-sentence, and looking at the floor, she cries. "I'm a bad person."
"Jade, it's not like you were the one who did it. I-I can't blame you for any of this, it's not you. It never was you, Jade." Her sobbing only worsens, and now it shakes her whole body. Cat sits next to her and rubs her back, Jade's sobs slowly dissolving into faint hiccups, then ragged breathing.
"You don't understand, Cat. He grabbed the wrong kid. He took Aiden for me." It takes a while for Cat to respond, and Jade, still looking down, soon notices her fists clench.
"You're right…I don't understand. This is going over my head. I can't think straight, I haven't for days, Jade. My sadness is eating me alive. When you can explain why you would have to stoop so low, you can try to give me another call. For now, can you just leave? And if you could be a dear, get me my son back." Cat's face was the color of her hair, and now she was yelling, throwing things at Jade as she backed out the front door.
"Let me explain this to you, Cat!"
"There's nothing to explain!" The door slams, a joining of metal and mahogany, the pang of it sounding similar to Cat's heart. She comes back into the hallway, anger overcoming sense as she throws a punch at the nearest solid object.
Pain, searing pain as nothing she's felt before. Knuckles meet drywall and yellow paint. As they connect, they explode, imitating the sound of fireworks. She curses and flings herself on the couch, yelling into a pillow. She forgets to get ice.
Jade lets herself into their dingy house after dropping her niece off, throwing her keys onto the side table near the door. She notices the house is silent and lets out a breath of relief, making the conclusion that he wasn't home. She stands by the open door for a while, letting the silence comfort her. She notices the hum of the refrigerator in the next room, and the creaking of a floorboard.
Before she has time to think she feels hands around her neck, making indents near her windpipe. She's being pushed against the stairs, thrown like a rag doll against the balustrades. Flashes of color enter her mind, but it's too late, always too late to process them. Her sense of direction falters, giving its strength to her physical feelings. Hair is pulled from her scalp as a pair of rough hands grabs a handful of it. Her spine is the first to hit wood, followed by the rest or her body. When her head hits what she processes as a step, she flashes between the world she's in and black, thinking and unconsciousness. A Mexican man. Large hands connecting to her face, darkness. A small boy crying in the distance; the taste of blood trailing her lips. Her vision switches from black to a cloudy red, and she knows she's loosing it. She barely makes out sounds, noises. The rush of air to her jaw as she hears a snap, a twist. Mutterings, syllables; Her brain is slow to process the thick accent.
"God damn it, bitch! Why did you tell her?" Darkness. The sound of a boy fading, the sound of her own heartbeat drumming in her head. Then sound is erased, as well as her vision. She falls, lying on the floor
A bit…angst? Morbid? Yeah sorry. I don't really know why this came to me in the way it did, but the story does write itself. Anyway, I love you all and if you've stayed even after this long break, I love you even more. And if you're reading this, (because I know a lot of people don't) write the words Buttermilk Biscuit in your review!
Stay tuned for a Harry Potter oneshot collection from me soon, by the way! I already have one written!
Love you,
Hollywood.