Twisted Pretzel Chapter 16: Remember Them All
Title: Twisted Pretzel
Author: 2he_re (Heather and Reena)
Fandom: Jonas Brothers
Pairing(s): Joe/OMC
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, the real people in it are used without their permission and we do not own them or have any copyright to any part of any of them. We do not believe any of this happened, is likely to happen, or will happen. It is simply a story created around known facts about those involved.
Summary: Mrs. Johnson dislikes the Jonas Brothers. She hates Joe. Why? Doesn’t really matter does it? What matters is that she was playing a game to get rid of him. Death. Horrible death.
“Tristan Darthe” was her pawn. Arrested a year after the incident and tried. His mental state was proven to be unstable, and instead of a jail sentence he was sentenced to an asylum for the rest of his poor, pathetic, lonesome life, where I'm not even allowed to go suicidal.
Call me unstable, call me insane, but oh deary me, I’d loved that game. I mean, money is good and all, but you know, killing is better.
But damn, I’d lost.
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 pt. 1 Chapter 21 pt. 2 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26
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I hate people who can’t be trusted. I hate people who lie through their teeth to get what they want. I hated myself. I hated that I don’t have a single troubling thought about lying.
I don’t know how I stayed with the Jonas’ during their touring schedule. I thought they’d kick me out of the house and off of the bus after one of their security people had to pull me from the club. But I toured with them.
I had my own little bunk, right below Joe’s. I could lay my hands on that little piece of wood separating where the two of us slept, and pretend he was closer than he really was. I stayed mostly out of the way, especially in the first week, where everyone freaked out about the first few shows. Everyone thought something would go wrong. I stayed in the back, watching the show, trying not to get in anyone’s way for the first seven shows, one every night.
It exhausted me, just to keep moving around on a set schedule. I don’t know how everyone else could do it. Joe didn’t seem like he would be able to hold out too much longer, the boy deteriorated right in front of my eyes. I couldn’t tell when he sung around on stage. There he smiled and laughed and played his heart out. On the bus, he crashed. On the interviews, he crashed.
I had almost no contact with Joe. He wouldn’t move to touch me, or let me get close enough to touch him, and it scared the crap out of me. I needed something soon, or I wouldn’t be able to stay, and I needed to stay. I needed to stick out for the whole tour, so they’d go home, and I could put his heart where it needed to go: under the picture on the wall.
I needed to touch Joe soon.
I got really annoyed really fast with the evil dog that they decided needed to come on tour with them. Of course, the evil dog decided he liked my bunk the best. It meant the dog ran in and out of my curtain, and barked at the edge of my bunk. I don’t know why they just didn’t keep the stupid dog at home; he would’ve done better there with a pet sitter.
It was bad the eighth day of tour, the eighth performance. Joe normally invited me half-heartedly to come, but he didn’t say a single word to me. So I didn’t come. I stayed on the bus as everyone else got prettied up to go on stage and talk to people. The evil dog ran around and around the bus jumping and yapping. I looked at it, and wished I could kill it, or I could go outside, or something. But I couldn’t really, not anymore. Because everyone knew me now, all those stupid pictures were posted on the internet of me, and if I went out, people would wonder why I wasn’t out walking about with Joe, but by my lonesome self.
But I couldn’t stay on the bus, it drove me insane. I couldn’t stay cooped up, I needed Joe. I needed him. He was an addiction. It was so bad. I needed him now.
I moved around, my legs unsteady on the parked bus. My hands shook as I grabbed my makeup back. I dumped everything to the floor, slowly sorting through it. I grabbed Denise’s bag, I dumped that one out. I sorted through it too. Then I wiped off all my makeup, all the layers I had painstakingly caked onto my face in the morning, I scrubbed them all off.
I didn’t want Joe to recognize me, I didn’t want anyone to recognize me as I layered the different shades I had never worn before onto my face. They colored in the harsh lines that marked me as a guy. I filled out my lips in a glossy color. Eyes lined softer, in pretty, light shades. I slowly stenciled in my eyebrows to form a different shape. I brushed on anything I thought a girl would put on her skin, until standing there with Joe’s cap pulled low over my face, I couldn’t tell I was a guy. I couldn’t tell the different between myself and a girl. But how hard was that normally?
My pin-straight hair remained twisted in a knot at my neck. I scraped off the ratty black nail polish, reapplying, in careful, long strokes the glossy pink color of Denise’s nails. I blew them dry, before twisting out my tongue ring.
Joe wanted a girl, wasn’t that right? He wanted a girl he could kiss with in public. He wanted a girl who he could call his own. He didn’t want a boy.
I stepped out the door, jeans long enough to cover my shoes, a shirt tight enough to hug my figure, but loose enough for someone to wonder if I did have boobs. The heart necklace I had gotten back since the hospital, I left it on the bus.
I wandered around until I heard screaming girls, a dead giveaway the Jonas Brothers were near. I found the long line of girls, some of them screaming and yelling, crying and gasping, and no one could see Joe or the others yet.
A girl stood in the back of the line, looking scared. So scared, it made it too easy for me to automatically judge her. She stood there as a new comer, her first time out. She might be waiting for friends, but the open stance said she laid claim to her spot as her own. A mini-jean skirt clung to just mid-thigh, a camisole showed off the little she had at her age. Blonde hair bubbled over her shoulders, and she’d applied more makeup than a girl her age should be wearing.
But who was I to judge on the such? Who was I to say she looked slutty? Who was I to say she was young? I’d been younger.
She nervously flicked her cell phone open and closed, waiting. I walked up to her, making my steps bouncier. I grinned from under the hat, and she gave me a horribly careful smile. The cell phone flipped open and closed again.
“Hey,” I said to her, and she replied in kind with some phrase. I don’t even remember what exactly, because from there I talked to her like we happened to be old friends. I told her all about this prize she had won for being… something. If she came with me, she would meet the Jonas Brothers before everyone else, and get a front row seat. She just had to come with me. She just had to trust me.
“Like Aladdin?” the little boy had asked.
This girl didn’t ask anything. She nodded, started talking like crazy, and followed. I led her to a bathroom, saying how the boys needed to meet her somewhere people wouldn’t expect them to be. I found it hysterical that she believed me to be telling the truth as I led her into the dinky street-side woman’s bathroom.
The bathroom connected to some other building, but since it was outside, the bathroom was gas station dirty. I didn’t want to touch anything, or look at the grime in the corner. I could see filth growing between the cracks of the white turned yellow tile. I pulled her into a little bathroom stall, just barely big enough for the two of us. Writing crawled up and down the wall. Some curved around loopy, some stood stiff and proud. Some had been melted with water, probably from the leaky ceiling, or maybe splashed by the toilet.
“Why are we here?” the girl asked slowly. She sounded concerned for the first time since I’d tugged her along with the fake story.
I wondered if her mom had warned her about talking to strangers. I turned my back on the mini-Barbie. Did she realize even pretty looking people her age could hurt her?
I banged the stall door closed, loving the effect. The lock screeched, old and rusty, as I slid it into the lock. “What are you doing?”
She had to just be my age, maybe younger, fifteen, sixteen. She had to only be a year or two below me. I normally didn’t mess with anyone a year or two below me. I think they’re too young. But really, four was too young. I’d been four. Why should I be concerned if they’re fifteen? Isn’t that better than four?
My movements seemed slow even to me, as I turned around to look at the beautiful girl. She looked slutty, she acted scared, but she radiated beauty.
“Oh my God… Oh my God, you’re not, oh my fucking Go-”
My body slammed into hers and she smashed against the exposed plumping, dripping and leaky, a horrible sound escaping her throat, it lacked the beauty screams normally held. She yelled and I wrapped my newly painted nails in her hair. She tried to fight back, with her legs, with her teeth, hands, nails, but I straddled her. Her knees banged into the old moist tile, and I pushed on her back, forcing her head under water. Water that splashed brown and yellow and blue all at once.
Her blonde hair blossomed under the water, spinning out while her head struggled. Her hands tried to get purchase on me, or to push her from the water, something, anything to let her breathe again. But she couldn’t. Her head stayed submerged, the water kept splashing.
I held her there as she screamed into the toilet water, and her blonde hair floated out in the water. “This is a test,” I told her. “You have to pass it to meet them. You have to stay here for a minute, until you can meet them.” Her skin grew cold and she stopped struggling, her lips turned blue, and her body slumped. Her hair stayed floating in the mis-colored water, but it didn’t move anymore, it seemed to be caught in a block of ice.
I ripped her purse from her, pulling out the meet and greet pass she already had, along with a ticket for the show. I shoved them in my pocket. I made her limp hand flush the toilet, and her hair got sucked down, and the water backed up. Her body slumped down even farther.
I washed my hands at the sink, before leaving the room. You couldn’t tell someone had been murder, unless you opened the stall, and saw the body on the floor. You wouldn’t know she hadn’t done it herself, unless you knew she had come with a ticket. But that ticket was mine now. Otherwise, it looked like the poor girl had drowned herself in a toilet bowl because she couldn’t get in to see her boys.
I took the girl’s place in line, and no one paid me a second glance. I pulled the cap lower once everyone started filing in. I handed over the ticket and got in. I grinned; no one paid me a second look. The people at the door had taken my ticket without calling anyone, or saying I was a fraud. I pushed past girls to the back of the standing room. I could see everything I wanted. I would be able to see Joe when he came up to the stage, but I doubted anyone would see me.
Girls screamed, and I said nothing. I barely moved, watching critically over Joe the moment he came out. I knew the song that came next, the order always came on the same. But then, Joe paused.
He settled to the edge of the stage, his feet hung down, and fans wrapped their hands around his legs, but none of them tried to pull him in. “New song…” he said slowly, his voice echoing over the cries. “It’s not on the album, but I’m pretty sure you’ve heard it.” I saw the horrified look Nick gave Joe, and I don’t know if anyone else saw it. “It’s about, someone who’s close to me. I would bring them out here, to show you where the inspiration came from,” he laughed lightly at this part, bitterly it seemed to me, “but they’re not here, so I can’t.”
There were sad “awwws” from around the room. I laughed and a girl next to me rammed me and gave me a dirty look, I pushed her harder back, and she moved away with a scowl and a curse. Then Joe started to sing, and I recognized the tune. He’d been humming it around me.
My song. Right?
He sat on the edge of the stage and sang. I hated how everyone sung along to the lyrics I hadn’t even heard. They curved out into the audience, and I closed my eyes to the words. I should’ve kept my eyes open and watched Joe, but I didn’t.
“Who drives you up and down…” Nick had described the song. “And makes your mind spin. You don’t know what you’re feeling, but you love it. You can’t stop thinking about him any second of the day.”
I snapped my eyes open.
“If he leaves, I don’t think I’ll be able to breathe.”
“He’s your support,” Nick had hissed in the dark, “he’s your love, and he drives you insane.”
I heard Joe sing. I watched Nick come in with a background vocal. I saw Kevin strum, his eyes were closed. He didn’t know what the song really was about. Not yet.
Something snapped in me. I turned away from the stage. I wanted to kill someone again. I wanted to hurt them so badly. You don’t know how strong the feeling was. It climbed inside of me, and whispered to me. It growled at me, and screamed in me. I spun around, turned out into the hallways away from the stage. I moved through the quickly, words echoing in my brain.
I started to run in the hallway. Around and around in the circular building. I slammed my fists into walls and screamed. I ran in a cage. The walls stood all around me, locking me in.
Then people started to flood out, they walked too sluggishly.
I slowed. I forced a smile on my face. I melted into the crowd. I followed arrows to the meet and greet. I pretended to be the good animal in the cage.
The security put everyone in a room together. I didn’t talk to the other people. I stood around aloft, waiting for the boys. Everyone shied away from me, and didn’t talk except for in hushed voices. When the three boys finally came in, people didn’t rush. They stood back, and remained awkward. I moved forward first.
Joe’s eyes immediately jumped to me. He opened his mouth, and then closed it.
“Hi,” I said in greeting, pitching my voice higher. “Liked the show.”
“I have that hat too…”
I smiled at Joe. Nick gave him a freaky look. In poor Nicky’s mind, Joe shouldn’t have left that slip. “I know, I raided your bus before the show and pulled it out.”
The girls around me gave nervous giggles, drawing Nick’s and Kevin’s attention. I claimed Joe’s for my own. I would not let him go. He was mine. “You’re joking, right?” he asked. He didn’t seem to be all that sure of himself.
I laughed, because this was the insecure Joe I wanted. I could mold this one. He didn’t care that a girl could have influence over him, he only started to worry when it became a guy. “Nah, not too much, but you going to wrestle the hat away from me?”
“I could take you,” Joe said back, puffing out his chest. But something lacked behind the movement. I frowned.
“You okay?”
Joe smiled. “Fine.”
“You don’t seem fine.” His grin faltered. “How about this, you come out with me, after all this crap, just for an hour, and I’ll get you some ice cream.”
“Ice cream?”
“You’ll losing weight again,” my voice cracked in the center.
“Are you stalking me?” Joe’s voice rose just as quickly as mine. I didn’t understand his problem; hundreds of people watched his every move. Thousands stalked him. He never did this at any of the greets I’d been at. He was fucked here, so fucking fucked!
“It’s not like you try to hide it,” I accused.
“What do you know?!”
I took a step towards him, a bodyguard moved closer. Kevin and Nick tried to usher away the other few girls. “For some stupid reason you’re starving yourself and becoming more bulimic than Chiley Cyrus.”
“Miley Cyrus,” he hissed, protective of the bitch.
“Like. I. Care. You’re acting like a fucking ass to people, and protecting that little bitch.”
“She’s not a bitch.”
“That’s pretty funny, because last thing I heard, your brother was just chasing her ass to get to the fucking top! Isn’t that what you said, ‘You do what you have to, to get the job done.’”
“Shut up…”
“Make me!”
“Shut up!”
“Why don’t -”
“I said, ‘Shut up!!’”
I closed the gap between the two of us, and slapped him. The crack rang out around the room, and the guard immediately pulled me back. I reached to drag my nails into Joe’s skin. I screamed at him, and another guard jumped to pull me back. The cap fell off my face. I turned to slam a fist into the guard. I could hit him. He grunted, and I slammed into him again. Someone else grabbed me, and pulled me back. I twisted to snarl.
“Tristan…?” I saw the word fall faintly from Joe’s lips. I froze. “Let hi - her go.”
I turned away, and walked with the guards. They pulled me out of the room. They tossed me out into a hallway. I started to go, but a hand appeared on my shoulder. I knew the shape of the hand, I recognized the smell.
I shrugged his hand off. I walked away from him. “Wait… Tristan, hold on, please…”
I kept walking.
He gripped my shoulders and spun me around. He pushed me to the wall. My back stung with the force, his tongue slammed into my mouth. He tried to pry my lips open, apart. He tried to kiss me. I ripped my lips away. He stopped, breath tickling my chin. His hands stayed on my arms, and I could see his knuckles whiten, but it didn’t hurt. Nothing hurt anymore.
“You didn’t look like Tristan.”
I gave a harsh laugh. “I look like a girl.”
Joe gave an embarrassed shrug. “Kind of.”
“And you kissed me now,” I snarled, shoving him away into the hallway, so much more public than anything else I’d ever been with him. I think I saw someone walking towards us.
Figure that one out, fucking figure that one out!
He didn’t touch me again as I moved outside. I saw the screaming girls, they were all still there. My hair had fallen loose, and I let it droop in front of my eyes. They pushed around me. They wanted to see a Jonas. They didn’t care about me.
I shoved one back, and she fell into the crowd. She cried because she hurt her ankle. I chuckled because she acted pathetically. A roar of shrieks broke out behind me, and I turned to find Joe following me. I kept walking; he kept struggling to follow me.
I found the bathroom, the same one I had killed the girl in, but no one knew that. The stall remained closed.
Joe followed him after me; he pushed me into a different stall and locked the door. He gently pushed me to the wall, covered in disease, and held me there. “Look at me,” he begged softly. I shook my head, sniffing. I fucking hated it. “I didn’t know it was you, I’m sorry I didn’t know it was you…”
I pressed my lips to his. I pressed my hands to his stomach. I pulled out his carefully tucked in shirt. I licked his lips, and touched his sweaty body. He curved into my touch. I relished that. I couldn’t get enough. I wanted more, to press skin against skin. I started to pull his pants down. They clung to his skin. I could feel how hot he was through the material. How hard. His skin inflamed. I pressed my cheek to him, and I heard his sharp intake of breath, along with that tell-tale word as I tried to unzip him.
“No…” it came out in a sharp gasp. “No, no, no…”
“Please,” I whispered back. “Please, just this once. I need this.” Fuck, he didn’t know how much I needed this. So badly. Just needed to get out. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, not right now. Not for a while.
“No.”
I turned instantly, blood searing in my veins. I smashed my fist into the stall next to us. I knew only the dead body resided in there. I knew it, and I pounded it again.
“Tristan, Tristan,” Joe stuttered quickly, trying to grab me and calm me. I ripped away from him, I slammed open the door. I ignored the screams and the calls. I ignored all the shit around me.
I found the bus just as empty as it had been when I’d left it. I kicked the dog out of my way and locked myself in the bathroom. I washed all the makeup, the soft and feminine look that I hated on my skin so much. I peeled off the nail polish with screams. I crawled into bed, and closed my eyes. I tried to slow my heart. I tried to stop thinking of how I wanted a heart under my hands, one that was better than Miranda’s brother’s heart. I wanted one that I actually cared about, and I wanted to touch it and squeeze it and force the person to do what I wanted. I wanted control. I wanted it now!
Was it so bad I just wanted the tour to be over with?
A warm body wrapped around me. Searching lips started to press against me. I flipped, pushing Joe away from me. I forced my back into the wall. I couldn’t get far enough away from Joe in the bunk. “No, no, no, no! I don’t want this now!”
“Flash…”
“Why are you doing this to me? I was ready then, in the bathroom, to do whatever the hell you wanted to do with me. But no, you can’t do it there, because you’re afraid what everyone is going to -”
“I’m not afraid,” he blurted out, as I spun my back to him. “I just think before I act.”
“Why the hell is that a good thing?” I flipped over towards to him, my eyes cutting his skin. His bare skin. He had pulled off his shirt. I could see his sweet bare skin, I could feel the heat moving off of him. “You just lost out on losing your virginity in the bathroom all over again. You already lost it in a fucking public bathroom, in a restaurant.”
“I…What? Tristan, what the -”
“Yeah, that’s right, a dick in the mouth. That means, in gay terms, you are officially not a virgin anymore, anything you planning on doing with that stupid ring of yours now?!”
“You could’ve told me before you did that! It’s important -”
“You want to know what’s important?!” I spat out. “Living, living is fucking important. And you were all cock blocker with that stupid ring, but guess what, now it doesn’t matter, because now, you’re not a virgin anymore. And God is going to come down with some fucking thunderbolt and zing you into hell because you lost it before you were ‘ready’ and to a fucking guy! And that’s the whole, deadliest sin of all, loving a goddamn guy!!” I shoved him out on the last word. I smirked at the solid thump of Joe hitting the floor.
I turned over, and the smile faded.
I still wanted his body.
When I woke up, someone had wrapped something tightly around my finger. I raised my hand up, and looked at it carefully. I felt half triumphant, looking at the band encircling my finger.
The silver ring blended well into my pale skin.
~*~