psyche [part two] [12 to 15]
Title: psyche
Author: twilight_rush
Rated: pg-13
Masterlist
12
Jamie has never liked the body he’s in, but he’s also never felt such a deep urge to burn it.
Tuesday is gloomy like after a tornado disaster. Jamie keeps his head down during most of English, doodling on the back of yesterday’s homework. He doesn’t realize the mess he’s drawing until the lead breaks and he sees the picture is of someone burning alive, skin peeling off. But they’re smiling. It doesn’t faze him.
“Jamie, I’ve called your name six times.” Miss Jorgia walks over to him and touches his shoulder. Jamie flinches when she asks if he’s okay, soft and concerned like it’s a big deal. He covers the drawing and doesn’t look at her, but he can feel the classes’ stare. He hates it. Hates the attention she’s drawing. He asks her if he can go to the nurse’s office, and she makes a pass for him. He crumples the drawing and tosses it in the trashcan, not looking at anyone as he leaves.
The nurse is trying to coax a better response from Jamie other than, “I just don’t feel well.” He almost wants to flip her off and tell her never mind. He doesn’t need a reason everything, why can’t anyone get that? She finally asks if he wants to call Girlie and go home. He asks if he can just lie on the bench for awhile.
The bench is cold steel with flimsy blue bedding on top. The cold penetrates his thin shirt and he’s almost tempted to ask the nurse if she has a blanket. He closes his eyes and he’s only resting for ten minutes before he hears someone drift in. They murmur they’re there to give a note to Jamie. He doesn’t open his eyes. They don’t try to wake him. Something is placed beside him and when he opens his eyes the person is gone.
Jamie grabs the folded up pink paper and opens it.
You should ride my bus home with me. #82
-- Alexandria
He doesn’t see her for the rest of the day, so he can’t ask her why. When she doesn’t show up for lunch he spends it in the library, head down on a desk. The librarian acts the same way as Miss Jorgia and Jamie pretends he’s okay to get her to leave him alone.
No, not pretend, because he is okay.
When school finally lets out Jamie makes his way to bus 82. There’s an empty seat, right next to Alexandria, in the front and he waves at her as he sits down. She grins widely and begins chattering about anything that comes to mind.
“Don’t think I’m copying Jean or anything, but I have this strong urge to start a band. Just for fun. Not to get signed or anything but like, I want to play an all girl rock band and write songs and just scream. Courtney Love said screaming feels good and it actually does. You should try it. How does ‘Save Her Majesty’ sound for a band name? Nah, too metalcore-ish. Uh, ‘Alice’s Riot’ sounds kind of punk. ”
“Who is Alice?”
“The one in chains,” she whistles.
It’s such a bad, clever response that Jamie laughs anyway, and she giggles and holds his hand. Her thumb traces the thin green veins on the back of his hand, and he wonders if she can feel his heartbeat slowing down.
*****
Dawson is in the kitchen making a sandwich, but when he sees Alexandria and Jamie entering the room, he decides maybe he should make more before Alexandria eats his.
“My dad's only skinny 'cause I eat his food plus mine,” cackles Alexandria. She and Jamie go to her room where she dumps her messenger bag in her disorganized closet and kicks off her shoes. Jamie does the same and sits on the beanbag.
“So I know you’re not feeling okay,” Alexandria tells him, stretching her arms toward him and flexing her fingers. Her face is neutral, like this is just a routine thing for them.
Jamie almost feels offended, about to get up and pace around while telling her she overreacts too much. “But -,” he starts.
“No, I’m serious. One day you’re fine and the next it’s like you’re so sick and you just don’t care anymore. Don’t you notice? You think people don’t see?” The neutrality falls, and her lips tighten as if she’ll cry if she has to speak again. She sits in front of Jamie, arms crossed and eyes pointed at the ground. “I’m your friend and I care a lot. You might think I care too much, but I-I want to know. I don’t care what it is. You can tell me anything and I can try to help or at least listen. I can do that. I’m capable of just shutting up and listening - -whatever you want, just tell me what’s wrong.”
She talks with her hands moving, a frown on her face, and eyes clear and dry but he knows she wants to sob.
Because she’s scared. And it's his fault, for being a horrible person.
The fabric of his clothes are scratching his skin and overheating it. He doesn’t want to be here. He wants to throw up, but all that would come up would be stomach acid because he hasn’t be able to force himself to eat.
It’s always been fear. Of what may happened, of what Zack might do, of what Jamie will have to do, of what if no one believes him, what if Girlie doesn’t believe me because she loves Zack too much.
Then everyone would know everything and he’ll either be a disgusting liar or a poor, messed up child.
No one will understand it.
It won’t be okay.
There’ll be much more trouble.
“I don’t have anything to say. Not today.” Or tomorrow. Or ever. The lie burns his tongue but it’s better than anything else. It’s better than the sadness radiating off of Alexandria.
“Oh . . . But I’m here, ‘kay? You can talk to me any time. You can tell me anything.” She smiles, a sad attempt at lightening the mood since there’s nothing else.
“Yeah, sure.” He can't be bothered to fake a smile or laugh, and he suddenly wishes she will go away. He wants to be all alone, pretend nothing outside him exists. He can't stay in this place, in this life, anymore.
He needs to go.
13
You think people don’t see?
Jamie wonders if Jean notices anything, since Alexandria says it’s so obvious. He must not because - no, that’s not right, maybe he does. Sometimes Jean acts like he wants to say something, be persisted like Alexandria, but Jamie always looks away when he does and maybe Jean just loses his nerves to ask. It’s easier to think Jean doesn’t see anything. He doesn’t want him to worry.
When Jamie visits Jean they don’t do much. Jean shows off the new Flying V bass he bought, and then lets Jamie try out his old skateboard he found. When that gets too boring, they come back inside for hot tea and lie lazily on the livingroom floor. Jean is sitting close to Jamie, tinkering with his guitar, and mumbling some verses under his breath.
Jean suddenly touches Jamie’s back, and Jamie briefly questions if they will ever get to that point where Jean wants to see more of him, wants to touch him everywhere his clothes cover.
He can never let that happen.
Jean kisses him and his mouth tastes like the extra sugar he dumped in his tea. “Sometimes I don’t understand what I feel for you,” Jean says, then bites his lip as if maybe he should’ve kept that thought in his mind. “I -- I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’ve been out of commission for awhile.” Jamie laughs so Jean will stop panicking.
“I know what I feel for you. That’s all that matters,” says Jean.
Jamie wonders if Jean will think the same thing the day he ever decides he loves Jamie.
Or, since Zack is right about everything, Jean will leave him like Jamie’s mother left because she couldn’t bear the thought of raising a child with a messed up body. Girlie lied to him. It’s not that his mom couldn’t take care of him, it’s because she didn’t want him.
Girlie doesn’t care. She doesn’t see anything if it’s not perfect. She loves Zack too much to see faults. She loves Jamie too much to see messed up flaws. Zack is right when he says Jamie can never tell or show himself to Jean fully. Jean will be revolted.
Jamie’s already scaring Jean with his screwed up head. He doesn’t need to add something else to the cause.
More things come to mind till his brain throbs.
“Jamie . . . you look sad.”
“It’s nothing.”
14
Jamie has an appointment with Emilia, so Girlie gets off work early to take him.
Emilia has changed her hair again: It’s a pixie haircut and she’s dyed it a dark red. It reminds Jamie of dried blood and he looks at the floor, tries not to laugh. “Girlie says you’ve been sick,” she starts. Her eyes look worn and the wrinkles under them are deeper than usual. Her week must’ve been crappy too. ”You haven’t taken your medications lately.”
When Jamie realizes she didn’t ask it like a question, that she stated it as a fact, he only fumbles for a moment before replying, “Yes, I have.”
“I know you may not want to admit it, but Jamie, this isn’t -“
“I haven’t done anything.”
“I’m not saying you have.”
“Then . . . Then I don’t want to be here. There’s no point.”
“I’m looking at you and I want to cry,” she breaks. She breathes in sharply and her nails grip her knees.
He keeps attention on the floor and slouches in his chair to the point he might slide off. He already feels bad. He can’t feel any worse than he does now. “This is stupid,” he mumbles.
“I wish you didn’t feel like you couldn’t tell me what’s happening,” Emilia says. Jamie tries to imagine himself drowning in the plush blue carpet.
“I want to help you. You need to help yourself too,” is the last thing she says before Jamie stands up and asks to leave.
*********
The way home is as long and tedious as the electronic song playing on the radio. Girlie switches the station to a Christian rock one and the gratitude of love and hope in the songs makes Jamie want to go through the windshield. He can feel Girlie’s eyes on him every few seconds. The urge to yell will you stop? increases with each minute.
He wants to tell her this is all her fault.
“Jamie, sweetie.”
Everything is her fault.
The songs become repulsive and a cruel joke to Jamie who can’t find it in himself to give in and be free like the musicians are being. His sight is distorted, colors becoming bleak and images ugly.
When they stop at a red light Girlie takes her right hand off the steering wheel and rests it on her stomach. Jamie notices the way her fingers press lightly into the skin and lightly rubs it. She does it for every red light to the point Jamie grinds his teeth. He tastes salt on his them and his voice is raspy when he asks, “Why do you keep rubbing your stomach like that?”
Alarm appears on her face, though it’s not for very long and yet it’s enough for Jamie to know there is an answer she won’t admit so easily.
“No reason.” A car behind them honks as the light turns green. Girlie glares into her rearview mirror and drives.
“I guess it’s fair,” Jamie starts, “that I say it’s nothing when you ask me a question, for you to say the same thing when I ask you something.”
“. . . I was going to tell you.”
“Tell me what?” It can’t be bad, because she may look calm yet nervous, but at least it’s not guilt and shame.
“I’m pregnant.”
He forgets to be happy.
*******
They never mentioned the baby again. Jamie doesn’t, so Girlie never brings it up.
Jamie stays home the next day. No one else is there and the house feels emptier with just him. He lies in bed with his head underneath the covers, even though it’s hot and he’s sweating. When he takes the covers off he’s suddenly cold and retreats back to the heat. His stomach growls and gnaws painfully. The breakfast Girlie made for him is still waiting in the microwave, but he’s been sick of food. Both Jean and Alexandria text him, but Jamie ignores them, turning off his cellphone and tossing it onto the ground.
He tries telling himself there are people out there who have it worse than him to make himself feel better.
15
The thing with Jamie is, he always sort of knew he would do this one day. He’s been thinking about it in a way that he just expected it to happen naturally, whenever. Maybe not in this decade, at this age, but sometime in his life.
Guess it was just meant to happen now.
Jamie notes that school is over by now, and Alexandria is on her way home. Jean is probably going to band practice. Thinking about them makes the guilt come, and so he pushes it away, says they don’t exist anymore.
He never threw the pills away (he’s so thoughtful; he didn’t want to waste Girlie’s money), kept them hidden in the back of his closet. He gets them out and wonders how much he has to take till he passes out. His throat closes up at the thought of it.
He used to tell himself, no matter, he wants it to be painless. And fast. He didn’t want others to see, so no doing it on webcam or jumping off from a place surrounded by crowds. He didn’t want to traumatize strangers or have them mock him.
He wasn’t even going to leave a note.
As if he has anything worth saying.
Jamie thinks if he takes a lot he’ll vomit, and maybe he’ll end up choking on that. If he passes out face down on the pillow he could slowly suffocate himself.
He begins taking them, all of them, till his mouth taste like chalk. He rubs his eyes but he’s not crying. He thinks this means he’s lost all emotions.
This is great.
This is good.
(This is horrible.)
(This is a mistake.)
Author: twilight_rush
Rated: pg-13
Masterlist
12
Jamie has never liked the body he’s in, but he’s also never felt such a deep urge to burn it.
Tuesday is gloomy like after a tornado disaster. Jamie keeps his head down during most of English, doodling on the back of yesterday’s homework. He doesn’t realize the mess he’s drawing until the lead breaks and he sees the picture is of someone burning alive, skin peeling off. But they’re smiling. It doesn’t faze him.
“Jamie, I’ve called your name six times.” Miss Jorgia walks over to him and touches his shoulder. Jamie flinches when she asks if he’s okay, soft and concerned like it’s a big deal. He covers the drawing and doesn’t look at her, but he can feel the classes’ stare. He hates it. Hates the attention she’s drawing. He asks her if he can go to the nurse’s office, and she makes a pass for him. He crumples the drawing and tosses it in the trashcan, not looking at anyone as he leaves.
The nurse is trying to coax a better response from Jamie other than, “I just don’t feel well.” He almost wants to flip her off and tell her never mind. He doesn’t need a reason everything, why can’t anyone get that? She finally asks if he wants to call Girlie and go home. He asks if he can just lie on the bench for awhile.
The bench is cold steel with flimsy blue bedding on top. The cold penetrates his thin shirt and he’s almost tempted to ask the nurse if she has a blanket. He closes his eyes and he’s only resting for ten minutes before he hears someone drift in. They murmur they’re there to give a note to Jamie. He doesn’t open his eyes. They don’t try to wake him. Something is placed beside him and when he opens his eyes the person is gone.
Jamie grabs the folded up pink paper and opens it.
You should ride my bus home with me. #82
-- Alexandria
He doesn’t see her for the rest of the day, so he can’t ask her why. When she doesn’t show up for lunch he spends it in the library, head down on a desk. The librarian acts the same way as Miss Jorgia and Jamie pretends he’s okay to get her to leave him alone.
No, not pretend, because he is okay.
When school finally lets out Jamie makes his way to bus 82. There’s an empty seat, right next to Alexandria, in the front and he waves at her as he sits down. She grins widely and begins chattering about anything that comes to mind.
“Don’t think I’m copying Jean or anything, but I have this strong urge to start a band. Just for fun. Not to get signed or anything but like, I want to play an all girl rock band and write songs and just scream. Courtney Love said screaming feels good and it actually does. You should try it. How does ‘Save Her Majesty’ sound for a band name? Nah, too metalcore-ish. Uh, ‘Alice’s Riot’ sounds kind of punk. ”
“Who is Alice?”
“The one in chains,” she whistles.
It’s such a bad, clever response that Jamie laughs anyway, and she giggles and holds his hand. Her thumb traces the thin green veins on the back of his hand, and he wonders if she can feel his heartbeat slowing down.
*****
Dawson is in the kitchen making a sandwich, but when he sees Alexandria and Jamie entering the room, he decides maybe he should make more before Alexandria eats his.
“My dad's only skinny 'cause I eat his food plus mine,” cackles Alexandria. She and Jamie go to her room where she dumps her messenger bag in her disorganized closet and kicks off her shoes. Jamie does the same and sits on the beanbag.
“So I know you’re not feeling okay,” Alexandria tells him, stretching her arms toward him and flexing her fingers. Her face is neutral, like this is just a routine thing for them.
Jamie almost feels offended, about to get up and pace around while telling her she overreacts too much. “But -,” he starts.
“No, I’m serious. One day you’re fine and the next it’s like you’re so sick and you just don’t care anymore. Don’t you notice? You think people don’t see?” The neutrality falls, and her lips tighten as if she’ll cry if she has to speak again. She sits in front of Jamie, arms crossed and eyes pointed at the ground. “I’m your friend and I care a lot. You might think I care too much, but I-I want to know. I don’t care what it is. You can tell me anything and I can try to help or at least listen. I can do that. I’m capable of just shutting up and listening - -whatever you want, just tell me what’s wrong.”
She talks with her hands moving, a frown on her face, and eyes clear and dry but he knows she wants to sob.
Because she’s scared. And it's his fault, for being a horrible person.
The fabric of his clothes are scratching his skin and overheating it. He doesn’t want to be here. He wants to throw up, but all that would come up would be stomach acid because he hasn’t be able to force himself to eat.
It’s always been fear. Of what may happened, of what Zack might do, of what Jamie will have to do, of what if no one believes him, what if Girlie doesn’t believe me because she loves Zack too much.
Then everyone would know everything and he’ll either be a disgusting liar or a poor, messed up child.
No one will understand it.
It won’t be okay.
There’ll be much more trouble.
“I don’t have anything to say. Not today.” Or tomorrow. Or ever. The lie burns his tongue but it’s better than anything else. It’s better than the sadness radiating off of Alexandria.
“Oh . . . But I’m here, ‘kay? You can talk to me any time. You can tell me anything.” She smiles, a sad attempt at lightening the mood since there’s nothing else.
“Yeah, sure.” He can't be bothered to fake a smile or laugh, and he suddenly wishes she will go away. He wants to be all alone, pretend nothing outside him exists. He can't stay in this place, in this life, anymore.
He needs to go.
13
You think people don’t see?
Jamie wonders if Jean notices anything, since Alexandria says it’s so obvious. He must not because - no, that’s not right, maybe he does. Sometimes Jean acts like he wants to say something, be persisted like Alexandria, but Jamie always looks away when he does and maybe Jean just loses his nerves to ask. It’s easier to think Jean doesn’t see anything. He doesn’t want him to worry.
When Jamie visits Jean they don’t do much. Jean shows off the new Flying V bass he bought, and then lets Jamie try out his old skateboard he found. When that gets too boring, they come back inside for hot tea and lie lazily on the livingroom floor. Jean is sitting close to Jamie, tinkering with his guitar, and mumbling some verses under his breath.
Jean suddenly touches Jamie’s back, and Jamie briefly questions if they will ever get to that point where Jean wants to see more of him, wants to touch him everywhere his clothes cover.
He can never let that happen.
Jean kisses him and his mouth tastes like the extra sugar he dumped in his tea. “Sometimes I don’t understand what I feel for you,” Jean says, then bites his lip as if maybe he should’ve kept that thought in his mind. “I -- I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’ve been out of commission for awhile.” Jamie laughs so Jean will stop panicking.
“I know what I feel for you. That’s all that matters,” says Jean.
Jamie wonders if Jean will think the same thing the day he ever decides he loves Jamie.
Or, since Zack is right about everything, Jean will leave him like Jamie’s mother left because she couldn’t bear the thought of raising a child with a messed up body. Girlie lied to him. It’s not that his mom couldn’t take care of him, it’s because she didn’t want him.
Girlie doesn’t care. She doesn’t see anything if it’s not perfect. She loves Zack too much to see faults. She loves Jamie too much to see messed up flaws. Zack is right when he says Jamie can never tell or show himself to Jean fully. Jean will be revolted.
Jamie’s already scaring Jean with his screwed up head. He doesn’t need to add something else to the cause.
More things come to mind till his brain throbs.
“Jamie . . . you look sad.”
“It’s nothing.”
14
Jamie has an appointment with Emilia, so Girlie gets off work early to take him.
Emilia has changed her hair again: It’s a pixie haircut and she’s dyed it a dark red. It reminds Jamie of dried blood and he looks at the floor, tries not to laugh. “Girlie says you’ve been sick,” she starts. Her eyes look worn and the wrinkles under them are deeper than usual. Her week must’ve been crappy too. ”You haven’t taken your medications lately.”
When Jamie realizes she didn’t ask it like a question, that she stated it as a fact, he only fumbles for a moment before replying, “Yes, I have.”
“I know you may not want to admit it, but Jamie, this isn’t -“
“I haven’t done anything.”
“I’m not saying you have.”
“Then . . . Then I don’t want to be here. There’s no point.”
“I’m looking at you and I want to cry,” she breaks. She breathes in sharply and her nails grip her knees.
He keeps attention on the floor and slouches in his chair to the point he might slide off. He already feels bad. He can’t feel any worse than he does now. “This is stupid,” he mumbles.
“I wish you didn’t feel like you couldn’t tell me what’s happening,” Emilia says. Jamie tries to imagine himself drowning in the plush blue carpet.
“I want to help you. You need to help yourself too,” is the last thing she says before Jamie stands up and asks to leave.
*********
The way home is as long and tedious as the electronic song playing on the radio. Girlie switches the station to a Christian rock one and the gratitude of love and hope in the songs makes Jamie want to go through the windshield. He can feel Girlie’s eyes on him every few seconds. The urge to yell will you stop? increases with each minute.
He wants to tell her this is all her fault.
“Jamie, sweetie.”
Everything is her fault.
The songs become repulsive and a cruel joke to Jamie who can’t find it in himself to give in and be free like the musicians are being. His sight is distorted, colors becoming bleak and images ugly.
When they stop at a red light Girlie takes her right hand off the steering wheel and rests it on her stomach. Jamie notices the way her fingers press lightly into the skin and lightly rubs it. She does it for every red light to the point Jamie grinds his teeth. He tastes salt on his them and his voice is raspy when he asks, “Why do you keep rubbing your stomach like that?”
Alarm appears on her face, though it’s not for very long and yet it’s enough for Jamie to know there is an answer she won’t admit so easily.
“No reason.” A car behind them honks as the light turns green. Girlie glares into her rearview mirror and drives.
“I guess it’s fair,” Jamie starts, “that I say it’s nothing when you ask me a question, for you to say the same thing when I ask you something.”
“. . . I was going to tell you.”
“Tell me what?” It can’t be bad, because she may look calm yet nervous, but at least it’s not guilt and shame.
“I’m pregnant.”
He forgets to be happy.
*******
They never mentioned the baby again. Jamie doesn’t, so Girlie never brings it up.
Jamie stays home the next day. No one else is there and the house feels emptier with just him. He lies in bed with his head underneath the covers, even though it’s hot and he’s sweating. When he takes the covers off he’s suddenly cold and retreats back to the heat. His stomach growls and gnaws painfully. The breakfast Girlie made for him is still waiting in the microwave, but he’s been sick of food. Both Jean and Alexandria text him, but Jamie ignores them, turning off his cellphone and tossing it onto the ground.
He tries telling himself there are people out there who have it worse than him to make himself feel better.
15
The thing with Jamie is, he always sort of knew he would do this one day. He’s been thinking about it in a way that he just expected it to happen naturally, whenever. Maybe not in this decade, at this age, but sometime in his life.
Guess it was just meant to happen now.
Jamie notes that school is over by now, and Alexandria is on her way home. Jean is probably going to band practice. Thinking about them makes the guilt come, and so he pushes it away, says they don’t exist anymore.
He never threw the pills away (he’s so thoughtful; he didn’t want to waste Girlie’s money), kept them hidden in the back of his closet. He gets them out and wonders how much he has to take till he passes out. His throat closes up at the thought of it.
He used to tell himself, no matter, he wants it to be painless. And fast. He didn’t want others to see, so no doing it on webcam or jumping off from a place surrounded by crowds. He didn’t want to traumatize strangers or have them mock him.
He wasn’t even going to leave a note.
As if he has anything worth saying.
Jamie thinks if he takes a lot he’ll vomit, and maybe he’ll end up choking on that. If he passes out face down on the pillow he could slowly suffocate himself.
He begins taking them, all of them, till his mouth taste like chalk. He rubs his eyes but he’s not crying. He thinks this means he’s lost all emotions.
This is great.
This is good.
(This is horrible.)
(This is a mistake.)