Poached Pear 29, Peanut Butter 1: Rage
Title: Rage
Main Story: In the Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Poached pear 29 (spit & polish), peanut butter 1 (fire), whipped cream (Ivy is sixteen), fresh peaches (A lovely little dog or cat could come into your life now and show signs of wanting to stay with you), malt (ninablues's truth or dare: What is the most physical damage Ivy has ever done to another person on purpose, and why did she do it?).
Word Count: 1004
Rating: PG-13 for abuse and violence.
Summary: Somebody punches Ivy's berserk button.
Notes: For peanut butter week.
WARNING: animal abuse.
Summer heard it first, on their daily journey from her school to home. Ivy had no inkling until her sister stiffened, small hand convulsing on hers. "Ivy," she said. "Ivy, do you hear that?"
She cocked her head, and a minute later heard the high-pitched whimpers reeling from the alley for herself. She frowned. "That... that sounds like an animal. Whatever it is, it's hurting."
Summer's eyes got big. "We have to help it, Ivy!"
"Of course," Ivy said. She let go of Summer's hand and shrugged her backpack to the ground, then shimmied out of her jacket and handed it to Summer. "For bandages," she explained, cold prickling along her arms as she pulled her backpack on again. "Just in case. You wait here."
The source of the whimpers was a small dog of indeterminate breed, with liquid brown eyes and a quivering nose. It shrank away from Ivy as she knelt beside it, shaking in every limb.
"Poor baby," she murmured, reaching out a hand towards it-- carefully, because sometimes hurt animals snapped, and she had no desire to get a rabies shot today. "Poor baby. What hurts, baby? Can you show me?"
The dog, wherever it had come from, was probably not a stray, since it responded to the kindness in her voice by creeping a little closer. Stray dogs didn't do that; they were too used to pain and punishment from humans. "There you go," Ivy said, still soothing, still gentle. "Come here, baby. Let me have a look, okay? Everything's going to be all--" She sucked in a breath.
"What?" Summer, still at the mouth of the alley, went on tiptoe to try and see what was going on. "What is it?"
"Stay there," Ivy snapped. It came out harsher than she'd meant, and she winced a little when Summer flinched away. But the very last thing she wanted was for her five-year-old and very sensitive sister to see the round red burns all over the little dog's belly.
God, the poor thing.
"Don't worry, baby," she told the little dog, patting its uninjured head as gingerly as she could manage. "Don't worry. Everything's going to be all right now, I promise. Throw me my jacket, Summer."
When Summer did no such thing, Ivy looked up, irritated. "Summer..." she began, and stopped, at the look on her sister's face.
"Ivy," Summer said, her voice pitched higher than usual. "Ivy, there are boys coming. They have fireworks."
Boys. Fireworks.
She fought down the rage, inhaled deeply, and said, "Okay. Come here and give me my jacket, then you get behind me and stay behind me, all right?"
Summer nodded, and, suiting action to the word, practically fled behind her sister. Ivy took her jacket on the fly and bent down, wrapping the little dog in the soft cotton. She picked it up, wincing at the fresh chorus of whimpers and the little, half-hearted snap, and turned it on its back to take the pressure off the burns. "Shh," she said, soothingly. "Shh. It's okay."
The three boys entered the alley a minute later, laughing and talking, fireworks dangling from their fists. One of them was a boy she knew from high school, Seth Adaya. He'd called her a dyke, just last week.
Ivy saw red. Literally.
Rage blinded her, clenching her hands into fists, stealing her breath. She wasn't stupid but clearly they were, and evil to boot, hurting a dog, something helpless. The bastards, the motherfuckers, it was only a little thing...
She took a deep breath. Wait. She was always jumping to conclusions; it was a flaw of hers. Maybe they hadn't done anything to the dog. Maybe this alley was a shortcut to wherever they were planning on setting off those fireworks. That was illegal, but not really bad. Maybe...
Just then Seth looked up, saw her, and smiled lazily. "Hey, guys," he said. "Check it. A dyke and a bitch. Gonna give me my dog back, dyke?"
Flames crawled up her spine and crooked her fingers into claws at that. The little dog whimpered in her arms.
"Summer," Ivy said, quite calmly, considering. "I'm going to give you the dog, okay? I want you to hold on to him and close your eyes and don't open them until I say."
"Okay," Summer whispered behind her.
She turned, deposited the little dog in her sister's arms, then turned around and threw herself at Seth.
Ivy didn't remember much of the next few minutes.
When she came back to herself, her knuckles were bleeding and so was Seth's face. She was sitting on top of him, fist drawn back. Both his friends were cowering against the wall. She'd probably broken his nose, she thought, almost clinically. Definitely split both his lips. Maybe even knocked out a tooth. He was sobbing for mercy; from the smell, he'd shit his pants.
Behind her, Summer was crying silently.
Ivy got off Seth, suddenly exhausted, and wearily disgusted with the whole business. "Get the fuck out of here," she told him, and his friends. "And don't ever let me see you again, or I'll make that look like a fucking shoulder-pat."
Both of the boys still standing fled.
Ivy spat on Seth's chest, then turned away from him and went to her sister.
"It's okay, sweetie," she said, softly. "Don't cry. It's okay."
Summer sniffled, shifted the dog and wiped at her cheeks. "Can I open my eyes?"
Ivy glanced over her shoulder-- Seth was still there, still sobbing. "No," she said. "Not yet. I'm going to walk you out of the alley, okay? Then we're going to take the dog to the vet. The same one we use for Gus. Okay?"
"Okay," Summer said. Her lower lip wobbled, but she swallowed hard and clearly got the tears under control. "Okay. Are you all right, Ivy?"
Ivy looked down at her hands, at her bleeding knuckles and bruised fingers. "No," she said, and squeezed Summer's shoulder. "Come on, sweetie. Let's go."
Main Story: In the Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Poached pear 29 (spit & polish), peanut butter 1 (fire), whipped cream (Ivy is sixteen), fresh peaches (A lovely little dog or cat could come into your life now and show signs of wanting to stay with you), malt (ninablues's truth or dare: What is the most physical damage Ivy has ever done to another person on purpose, and why did she do it?).
Word Count: 1004
Rating: PG-13 for abuse and violence.
Summary: Somebody punches Ivy's berserk button.
Notes: For peanut butter week.
WARNING: animal abuse.
Summer heard it first, on their daily journey from her school to home. Ivy had no inkling until her sister stiffened, small hand convulsing on hers. "Ivy," she said. "Ivy, do you hear that?"
She cocked her head, and a minute later heard the high-pitched whimpers reeling from the alley for herself. She frowned. "That... that sounds like an animal. Whatever it is, it's hurting."
Summer's eyes got big. "We have to help it, Ivy!"
"Of course," Ivy said. She let go of Summer's hand and shrugged her backpack to the ground, then shimmied out of her jacket and handed it to Summer. "For bandages," she explained, cold prickling along her arms as she pulled her backpack on again. "Just in case. You wait here."
The source of the whimpers was a small dog of indeterminate breed, with liquid brown eyes and a quivering nose. It shrank away from Ivy as she knelt beside it, shaking in every limb.
"Poor baby," she murmured, reaching out a hand towards it-- carefully, because sometimes hurt animals snapped, and she had no desire to get a rabies shot today. "Poor baby. What hurts, baby? Can you show me?"
The dog, wherever it had come from, was probably not a stray, since it responded to the kindness in her voice by creeping a little closer. Stray dogs didn't do that; they were too used to pain and punishment from humans. "There you go," Ivy said, still soothing, still gentle. "Come here, baby. Let me have a look, okay? Everything's going to be all--" She sucked in a breath.
"What?" Summer, still at the mouth of the alley, went on tiptoe to try and see what was going on. "What is it?"
"Stay there," Ivy snapped. It came out harsher than she'd meant, and she winced a little when Summer flinched away. But the very last thing she wanted was for her five-year-old and very sensitive sister to see the round red burns all over the little dog's belly.
God, the poor thing.
"Don't worry, baby," she told the little dog, patting its uninjured head as gingerly as she could manage. "Don't worry. Everything's going to be all right now, I promise. Throw me my jacket, Summer."
When Summer did no such thing, Ivy looked up, irritated. "Summer..." she began, and stopped, at the look on her sister's face.
"Ivy," Summer said, her voice pitched higher than usual. "Ivy, there are boys coming. They have fireworks."
Boys. Fireworks.
She fought down the rage, inhaled deeply, and said, "Okay. Come here and give me my jacket, then you get behind me and stay behind me, all right?"
Summer nodded, and, suiting action to the word, practically fled behind her sister. Ivy took her jacket on the fly and bent down, wrapping the little dog in the soft cotton. She picked it up, wincing at the fresh chorus of whimpers and the little, half-hearted snap, and turned it on its back to take the pressure off the burns. "Shh," she said, soothingly. "Shh. It's okay."
The three boys entered the alley a minute later, laughing and talking, fireworks dangling from their fists. One of them was a boy she knew from high school, Seth Adaya. He'd called her a dyke, just last week.
Ivy saw red. Literally.
Rage blinded her, clenching her hands into fists, stealing her breath. She wasn't stupid but clearly they were, and evil to boot, hurting a dog, something helpless. The bastards, the motherfuckers, it was only a little thing...
She took a deep breath. Wait. She was always jumping to conclusions; it was a flaw of hers. Maybe they hadn't done anything to the dog. Maybe this alley was a shortcut to wherever they were planning on setting off those fireworks. That was illegal, but not really bad. Maybe...
Just then Seth looked up, saw her, and smiled lazily. "Hey, guys," he said. "Check it. A dyke and a bitch. Gonna give me my dog back, dyke?"
Flames crawled up her spine and crooked her fingers into claws at that. The little dog whimpered in her arms.
"Summer," Ivy said, quite calmly, considering. "I'm going to give you the dog, okay? I want you to hold on to him and close your eyes and don't open them until I say."
"Okay," Summer whispered behind her.
She turned, deposited the little dog in her sister's arms, then turned around and threw herself at Seth.
Ivy didn't remember much of the next few minutes.
When she came back to herself, her knuckles were bleeding and so was Seth's face. She was sitting on top of him, fist drawn back. Both his friends were cowering against the wall. She'd probably broken his nose, she thought, almost clinically. Definitely split both his lips. Maybe even knocked out a tooth. He was sobbing for mercy; from the smell, he'd shit his pants.
Behind her, Summer was crying silently.
Ivy got off Seth, suddenly exhausted, and wearily disgusted with the whole business. "Get the fuck out of here," she told him, and his friends. "And don't ever let me see you again, or I'll make that look like a fucking shoulder-pat."
Both of the boys still standing fled.
Ivy spat on Seth's chest, then turned away from him and went to her sister.
"It's okay, sweetie," she said, softly. "Don't cry. It's okay."
Summer sniffled, shifted the dog and wiped at her cheeks. "Can I open my eyes?"
Ivy glanced over her shoulder-- Seth was still there, still sobbing. "No," she said. "Not yet. I'm going to walk you out of the alley, okay? Then we're going to take the dog to the vet. The same one we use for Gus. Okay?"
"Okay," Summer said. Her lower lip wobbled, but she swallowed hard and clearly got the tears under control. "Okay. Are you all right, Ivy?"
Ivy looked down at her hands, at her bleeding knuckles and bruised fingers. "No," she said, and squeezed Summer's shoulder. "Come on, sweetie. Let's go."