Chapter Seven

I used to feel alone.

I told Cat that once. I said the three words. I feel alone. She didn't get it. Or, her character didn't get it anyway.

She said, don't be silly. How could you possibly feel alone? You have me, she said. Beck. Andre. Robbie. Rex. Sikowitz. You couldn't feel alone, you have us, she said.

I think Cat knew what I was talking about. I think Cat felt the same way, actually. But she couldn't say so, she would break character.

See, that's the difference between Cat and I. I can let my problems shine through every once and awhile, because Jade West is a dark person. It's no big deal if I say something disturbing. But if Cat ever does, it'd have to be the apocalypse.

Now, though, I don't feel exactly like that anymore. Lonely. Vega pounded that out of my system. Now I only feel lonely when she's not around. I really only feel fucked up when she's not around, too, lately. I should bring her to my next therapy session.

It's like I started to slow down instead of running away in my fortress, jogging beside her. Still running too fast for anyone to pull out a weapon and fire, so I didn't have to worry too much. But every once in a while I would have some anxiety attack and sprint ahead again.

That's me being spurred on by fear of rejection like a horse by spikes on cowboy boots. What happens when she gets scared of me? Or scared of what goes through my head? What happens when she leaves? Then what? It gets worse than it was, that's what. It won't be worth it in the long run, I repeated over and over in my head. But I just couldn't stop myself from slowing down again.

I didn't want to resist, because it made me feel so good at the moment, so why should I give a shit about the future?

That state of mind had never gotten me too far in the past, but it would be different this time, I'd make sure of it. Anything can make sense if you think about it hard enough.

See, no one gets my interest in scissors. They just don't think too far into it. If you think about what scissors can do. Deactivate a wired bomb. Cut through the restraints. That's what it all was – the trashcans, the flowers. Practice. Paranoid preparation for when I'd have to do those things.

But that's not all. One wrong move, you're on your deathbed. Or one right move. It's all perspective.

I love that – the danger. The thrill of possibility. Not enough to act on it, but it's so fun to think about.

That's the first hole in the suicide theory. If I was going to cut myself and then bleed to death, I would have used scissors. Probably medical scissors to make it easy and fast. Not a goddamn pocketknife. I didn't even own a pocketknife.

Then again my dad does, and who's to say I wouldn't have borrowed it for the deed? Sounds like something I'd do – send a secret message to my father, blaming him without anyone but him knowing. Killing myself with one of his toys.

But something deep in my mind told me I was wrong. It promised me I didn't kill myself – that there was something more serious happening. That this wasn't suicide.

My father showed up. Over a week passed – it took that long for my only living parent to visit his only child. Pathetic. Why would he even bother showing up?

"I'm getting married." Oh. So that's why.

I scowled at him. "Why the fuck would I care?" I snapped.

He stood from where he was seated. "Don't you dare talk to me like that! I'm your father!" he yelled.

The scowl dropped from my face, my mouth turning to a straight line. "You are nothing to me. Get out."

He gave me a mocking smirk. "I'm bringing her here next week," he started. "She wants to meet you. God knows why. I expect you to be looking your best. No black. Cut those damn streaks out of your hair. Take all your piercings out, cover your disgusting tattoos."

Appearance. That's all that matters.

He walked over to the door, pulling it open harshly. He looked back. "And erase those scribbles off the walls. You're not a two year old." He shook his head condescendingly. "Sometimes I wonder how you grew up to be so damn useless."

Yeah, daddy? Well, sometimes I wonder how I managed to only be this bad, with you raising me! Sometimes I wonder how much I must have sinned in some past life, to get stuck with you!

He slammed the door hard. As if I was the only one in this hospital. And that's how it felt. I felt completely alone now. More so than I'd felt in a long time.

All I wanted was to see Tori. But she'd been here for hours earlier today, she wouldn't be back until tomorrow.

I'd have to keep myself occupied.

A/N - Isn't Jade's father a nice guy?

I found an analogy for the type of fluffish stuff in this story! It's like the stuffing inside a teddy bear. In that in order to get to it, you have to rip the teddy bear's head off. But once you get that part over with, it's so fun to throw around the entire house!

But then your parents get home, and they start freaking out 'cause that house inspector is coming in five minutes, and then your Mom gets the vaccum, but the stuffing gets jammed in it and then the vaccum starts smoking and sparking, and then the doorbell rings, and then your Dad has to pick up the vaccum and hold it under the smoke detector until it goes off.

But after all that, you run outside carrying your cat, yelling fire and the house inspector agrees to come back another time. So in the end it works out.

You get a free cookie if you review pointing out the hidden philosophy in those three paragraphs.

Actually, there is no hidden philosophy. That was just my attempt at bribing you into reviewing.