It was Jada's 18th birthday. She was spending it alone. Her parents were in Italy, along with her younger brother, taking care of some business in Rome; Her sisters were at school in Switzerland. It had taken Szelem time to convince Zora to go, though Kayley had agreed immediately to leave. Jada stared at the selection of her birthday guests.
Jack Daniels.
Budweiser
Smirnoff
Absolut
Jose Cuervo
Patron
Grey Goose
Glenlivet
Crown Royal
There were more, but there wasn't a way she'd get through all of them by herself. Not without giving herself alcohol poisoning. To be frank, that was kind of what she wanted. She twisted the cap off of a Green Apple Smirnoff Ice, taking the first swallow of many to come. She heard her cell phone ringing; she didn't get up to check it. She thought, at one point, that she heard a knock on the door downstairs. She didn't get up for that, either. She was in her room, door closed, lying on her bed and remembering the reason that she hated her life.
Remembering the way she had ******** it all up.
Downstairs, in the fireplace, all of the romance novels she had devoured as a child were burning to embers. No one like her deserved to find love. No one like her could be, would be happy. She was, hell, a reborn soul? Living a life she didn't have an option but to live, not one she'd wanted, or even asked for. She was going to be spending her life looking for a woman whose name made her heart twist and ache; a woman who she didn't remember. She was doomed to put down restless ghosts, and compete with murderers and villains for the souls of humanity.
Jada tossed and turned on her oversized bed. Screw King sized, this was... emperor-sized. It was a bed big enough that she could toss and turn, roll and jump around like a loon, but it would still have more room. Her friends called it an 'orgy bed' and teased her, asking what she did with it.
Nothing.
She shuddered, nauseated, taking another swig of Jose to settle her stomach. Eighteen, and all she had was liquor.
“It's because you're useless.” her mother's voice was like a snake. “You can't keep a man. I've set you up with plenty. They look at you, but none of them would touch you with a ten-foot pole.” Szelem smiled at her daughter, brushed her lips over Jada's cheeks. “You should just die. You're a waste of everything. No man worth anything would look at you.”
“It's because you're stupid.” her father whispered it, stroking long-fingered hands over her cheeks, stroking over her lips. “It's because you're a failure, a disappointment to your parents.” his hands tugged her shirt down over her belly. “You can't even dress like a woman of intelligence. You fling yourself out like a slattern and pray for the best.”
“It's because you're ugly.” Kayley, pretty and perfect with golden curls and bright green eyes. “You're dark-haired, and it looks like ink. Bland and boring, no shine to you at all.” The teenager clucked her tongue, patting her hand over her own blonde curls. “Not like me. I'll have everything you ever wanted. You're getting old already.”
“I'm only 18.” Jada protested.
“Are you?” it was Zora's voice, and Zora holding up a mirror. In the mirror, there she was. Her skin was supple, unblemished. “You don't look 18. You look like you're hiding from something. What an ugly mask.” Her face cracked as Jada's brow furrowed, exposing what lay underneath. It- she- was an old woman. Black hair, dyed. Wrinkled face. Her flawless skin was all heavy makeup. As she watched, her skin rotted. It was painful. Chunk by chunk, exposing her skeleton. She started screaming, writhing. Her bones were crumbling. Her muscles were falling to pieces. She couldn't scream, but she could feel the agony. And then silence. Blessed relief.
Scylla stood, staring at the pile of dust she'd come out of.
“Kill yourself.” it was her mother, holding out a knife. Needle-sharp, intricate, with a hilt that bore the symbol of her Henshin pen. “No one will ever love you. No one will ever have a use for you. No one will ever, ever want you for their own. Kill yourself. Save yourself the agony.”
Jada reached out and took the pen, closing her long fingers over the hilt. Silently, she moved for the bathroom, filling up her garden tub with water. It was crustal clear. Reflective. In the mirrored water, she could see herself cracking. She dropped the black robe she was wearing, looking herself over.
Useless. Ugly. Stupid. Old. Waste.
She slid into the water, hissing as the water boiled her alive. Lowered the knife to her wrists.
And in a moment, the pain was gone.
*
Hands pushed her back, against the bed, soothing her. The fever-dreams were getting to be more and more. The young woman in the hospital bed was writhing, sobbing. “Up the dosage.” a nurse said tiredly. “Put her back under. Sedate her until she can't scream anymore. She's disturbing other patients.”
Jack Daniels.
Budweiser
Smirnoff
Absolut
Jose Cuervo
Patron
Grey Goose
Glenlivet
Crown Royal
There were more, but there wasn't a way she'd get through all of them by herself. Not without giving herself alcohol poisoning. To be frank, that was kind of what she wanted. She twisted the cap off of a Green Apple Smirnoff Ice, taking the first swallow of many to come. She heard her cell phone ringing; she didn't get up to check it. She thought, at one point, that she heard a knock on the door downstairs. She didn't get up for that, either. She was in her room, door closed, lying on her bed and remembering the reason that she hated her life.
Remembering the way she had ******** it all up.
Downstairs, in the fireplace, all of the romance novels she had devoured as a child were burning to embers. No one like her deserved to find love. No one like her could be, would be happy. She was, hell, a reborn soul? Living a life she didn't have an option but to live, not one she'd wanted, or even asked for. She was going to be spending her life looking for a woman whose name made her heart twist and ache; a woman who she didn't remember. She was doomed to put down restless ghosts, and compete with murderers and villains for the souls of humanity.
Jada tossed and turned on her oversized bed. Screw King sized, this was... emperor-sized. It was a bed big enough that she could toss and turn, roll and jump around like a loon, but it would still have more room. Her friends called it an 'orgy bed' and teased her, asking what she did with it.
Nothing.
She shuddered, nauseated, taking another swig of Jose to settle her stomach. Eighteen, and all she had was liquor.
“It's because you're useless.” her mother's voice was like a snake. “You can't keep a man. I've set you up with plenty. They look at you, but none of them would touch you with a ten-foot pole.” Szelem smiled at her daughter, brushed her lips over Jada's cheeks. “You should just die. You're a waste of everything. No man worth anything would look at you.”
“It's because you're stupid.” her father whispered it, stroking long-fingered hands over her cheeks, stroking over her lips. “It's because you're a failure, a disappointment to your parents.” his hands tugged her shirt down over her belly. “You can't even dress like a woman of intelligence. You fling yourself out like a slattern and pray for the best.”
“It's because you're ugly.” Kayley, pretty and perfect with golden curls and bright green eyes. “You're dark-haired, and it looks like ink. Bland and boring, no shine to you at all.” The teenager clucked her tongue, patting her hand over her own blonde curls. “Not like me. I'll have everything you ever wanted. You're getting old already.”
“I'm only 18.” Jada protested.
“Are you?” it was Zora's voice, and Zora holding up a mirror. In the mirror, there she was. Her skin was supple, unblemished. “You don't look 18. You look like you're hiding from something. What an ugly mask.” Her face cracked as Jada's brow furrowed, exposing what lay underneath. It- she- was an old woman. Black hair, dyed. Wrinkled face. Her flawless skin was all heavy makeup. As she watched, her skin rotted. It was painful. Chunk by chunk, exposing her skeleton. She started screaming, writhing. Her bones were crumbling. Her muscles were falling to pieces. She couldn't scream, but she could feel the agony. And then silence. Blessed relief.
Scylla stood, staring at the pile of dust she'd come out of.
“Kill yourself.” it was her mother, holding out a knife. Needle-sharp, intricate, with a hilt that bore the symbol of her Henshin pen. “No one will ever love you. No one will ever have a use for you. No one will ever, ever want you for their own. Kill yourself. Save yourself the agony.”
Jada reached out and took the pen, closing her long fingers over the hilt. Silently, she moved for the bathroom, filling up her garden tub with water. It was crustal clear. Reflective. In the mirrored water, she could see herself cracking. She dropped the black robe she was wearing, looking herself over.
Useless. Ugly. Stupid. Old. Waste.
She slid into the water, hissing as the water boiled her alive. Lowered the knife to her wrists.
And in a moment, the pain was gone.
*
Hands pushed her back, against the bed, soothing her. The fever-dreams were getting to be more and more. The young woman in the hospital bed was writhing, sobbing. “Up the dosage.” a nurse said tiredly. “Put her back under. Sedate her until she can't scream anymore. She's disturbing other patients.”
