Re: Leaving Me Lonely Still
Posted: Sun Feb 13, 2011 5:51 am
If she wasn't in such a strange state of ambivalence, Jennifer might have been more taken aback by Nick's response. He wasn't mad? He had no axe to grind with her, no need for revenge, to at least insult her or something? That was... well, on the one hand it was a relief, a pleasant surprise. On the other, it wrenched at her. She felt like she was getting away with something, going unpunished for stealing candy, perhaps. Her actions were supposed to have consequences. They always did. Maybe other people got away with screwing up, but not Jennifer.
But was that true anymore? It didn't seem like it was. All her punishments were internal, all the pain and anguish entirely self-inflicted. She hadn't been hurt once. She'd been attacked, sure, been in a fight, a real fight, the sort of thing she'd always been sure would never ever happen to her, but she'd won. She'd beaten the guy who won the Best Kill Award in a fight. She'd had him at her mercy, and she'd let him walk away.
She wondered if that put his future crimes on her. It was the same with Nick. She was responsible for the killing he'd done, at least in part. Every life he took after meeting her, it had all been shaped by their encounter, she felt. She'd hurt him. Insulted him. Forced him into a classification, branded him a killer. Of course he had killed. People did what they were told. They became what others thought them, were shaped by perception and social expectations. Who knew this better than Jennifer? Who was more malleable to the whims of others, more vulnerable to the pressures of friends? And yet, she had casually exercised her power over Nick, had turned an act that was... was wrong, no way around it, but she'd made it horrible, irredeemable, a final sentence, and that was wrong. People could always change. It was never too late to look in the mirror and decide you'd had enough, enough of your old life, enough of being pushed around, enough of solving other people's problems, enough of being the nice one, enough of being scared for your life, enough of being peaceful, enough of being unable to kill. There was always the option of turning yourself around, spitting in the face of common sense and decency, giving in and killing everyone within reach, just so you could live an extra five minutes. It was tempting. It was tempting because it was the easy way. Once you started something like that, you could just coast, just flow on momentum, roll along happily and not stop. It was easy to forget that you were killing people. Fuck, Jennifer was already halfway there. She had it down. Corpses were things now. And hey, that meant people were just potential things, right? No harm in quickening the natural flow of events. Nick did it. Nick wasn't bad. None of them were bad.
She thought this all through surprisingly quickly. Not that it changed anything. She wouldn't play. She just understood why maybe, just maybe, someone else might.
Understanding was key if she was going to try to help Nick.
Then his words hit her. She'd been listening, but only half consciously. It was the sort of gaffe she would never have made back home. She was better than that. Listening was polite. It was what you fucking did when people had to talk to you.
What had changed matters were two simple things. Nick had said she'd saved his life.
And he'd said that Maf should be sorry.
He'd seen Maf? Did that mean? Oh no, oh fucking god no. But no... Nick hadn't killed him. He'd let his list drag on before. He wouldn't say someone dead should be sorry, right? Justification, desperate scrambling, but fuck if she wouldn't cling to it as long as she could.
She would have to be careful, tread fucking lightly to avert disaster. Everything was forgotten as for a split second, the space it took Nick to say "and", she pondered her reply, until Nick broke her concentration and made her start, noting that Samantha was gone. Oh fuck. Jennifer had lost track of her. Were they going to die?
They didn't die.
"Um, y-yeah," Jennifer said. What else could she add? She got up, though. Looked like they'd be going soon. Better not to risk lingering after the other girl left.
"Um," she continued, "Maybe we should move?"
And then, because she just didn't know when to shut the fuck up, because it was going to come out sooner or later and she was just going to fuck it up even more if she sat on it, she mumbled out, "And Maf is, um, is a friend of mine, and, um, I'm sorry if something happened between you and, um, and I wish I'd been there to stop it."
But was that true anymore? It didn't seem like it was. All her punishments were internal, all the pain and anguish entirely self-inflicted. She hadn't been hurt once. She'd been attacked, sure, been in a fight, a real fight, the sort of thing she'd always been sure would never ever happen to her, but she'd won. She'd beaten the guy who won the Best Kill Award in a fight. She'd had him at her mercy, and she'd let him walk away.
She wondered if that put his future crimes on her. It was the same with Nick. She was responsible for the killing he'd done, at least in part. Every life he took after meeting her, it had all been shaped by their encounter, she felt. She'd hurt him. Insulted him. Forced him into a classification, branded him a killer. Of course he had killed. People did what they were told. They became what others thought them, were shaped by perception and social expectations. Who knew this better than Jennifer? Who was more malleable to the whims of others, more vulnerable to the pressures of friends? And yet, she had casually exercised her power over Nick, had turned an act that was... was wrong, no way around it, but she'd made it horrible, irredeemable, a final sentence, and that was wrong. People could always change. It was never too late to look in the mirror and decide you'd had enough, enough of your old life, enough of being pushed around, enough of solving other people's problems, enough of being the nice one, enough of being scared for your life, enough of being peaceful, enough of being unable to kill. There was always the option of turning yourself around, spitting in the face of common sense and decency, giving in and killing everyone within reach, just so you could live an extra five minutes. It was tempting. It was tempting because it was the easy way. Once you started something like that, you could just coast, just flow on momentum, roll along happily and not stop. It was easy to forget that you were killing people. Fuck, Jennifer was already halfway there. She had it down. Corpses were things now. And hey, that meant people were just potential things, right? No harm in quickening the natural flow of events. Nick did it. Nick wasn't bad. None of them were bad.
She thought this all through surprisingly quickly. Not that it changed anything. She wouldn't play. She just understood why maybe, just maybe, someone else might.
Understanding was key if she was going to try to help Nick.
Then his words hit her. She'd been listening, but only half consciously. It was the sort of gaffe she would never have made back home. She was better than that. Listening was polite. It was what you fucking did when people had to talk to you.
What had changed matters were two simple things. Nick had said she'd saved his life.
And he'd said that Maf should be sorry.
He'd seen Maf? Did that mean? Oh no, oh fucking god no. But no... Nick hadn't killed him. He'd let his list drag on before. He wouldn't say someone dead should be sorry, right? Justification, desperate scrambling, but fuck if she wouldn't cling to it as long as she could.
She would have to be careful, tread fucking lightly to avert disaster. Everything was forgotten as for a split second, the space it took Nick to say "and", she pondered her reply, until Nick broke her concentration and made her start, noting that Samantha was gone. Oh fuck. Jennifer had lost track of her. Were they going to die?
They didn't die.
"Um, y-yeah," Jennifer said. What else could she add? She got up, though. Looked like they'd be going soon. Better not to risk lingering after the other girl left.
"Um," she continued, "Maybe we should move?"
And then, because she just didn't know when to shut the fuck up, because it was going to come out sooner or later and she was just going to fuck it up even more if she sat on it, she mumbled out, "And Maf is, um, is a friend of mine, and, um, I'm sorry if something happened between you and, um, and I wish I'd been there to stop it."