< Selfish girl. >
She plays with the ends of Jack's fingers under her ribcage. It's the first time he's stayed on her while sleeping (if what they're doing- alternate waking up in various states of frenzy or annoyance- can be called sleeping), and she can't help but be momentarily pleased. She's tied herself properly this time, without loose ends of cut strings that go nowhere. Strong arms, good looking- she's done it right. She's done everything right now, it's all in order. She's so sure of herself. She's never been more sure in her life.
Every time I see her, I still remember what it used to be like-
It's not jealousy, she knows that much. Chel has never been jealous over anyone. She hates herself at times, but never others. There's just a painfully pitiful part of her that wished they were on the same page. They were never going to be and that's why she wanted this, but there were other parts of her that were different and spoke quietly sometimes.
and sometimes it mixes with...s**t,
What s**t? Tell me. We can talk about it. You don't have to, ever, but we can.
and it doesn't let me go when I'm not careful.
Go where? Take me with you. I want to come.
I think about the others too. And you know, the few times you've brought up Nevada, I always have this one thought: at least she's dead and gone.
She raises a hand to rub one of her eyes, but it's dark and she overestimates and hits herself in the eye with her bracelet. For a moment in the bracelet's red light she can see her pale white skin next to Jack's paler skin, separated only by a very thin layer of sweat. It gets her grumbling and she needs to walk off her annoyance, but there's a chance that if she leaves and comes back, Jack will have rolled over and he won't hold her like this anymore.
It was hard to say in excact words how somebody felt about somebody else without it being romantic or sexually involved. There was family, of course. There was sisters and brothers, and then there was people you felt a connection down to your bones.
"She's like piece of me that makes me whole." Nevada laughed, with her legs wrapped in Chelsea's and her hair spread over the both of them like a thin blanket. Her hand was playing with Chelsea's face. "But not like...I love her, but I'm not in love with her. I feel something for her deep in my heart. She fills a void that was left by Alaska, and yet makes it completely her own. Stormy is like...a soul mate you know? We just..." Nevada shrugged, "We just clicked on a level." She laughed again, "I thought you didn't like her anyways?"
Chel liked everybody.
The question came again, while Nevada was shuffling through papers.
"Sometimes she makes me so upset." Nevada placed the papers down, "She can be so childish sometimes." She frowned and then sighed, "That's why I liker her too, she's really innocent? Not like...Naive, but gullible. I like her cause of her optimism."
Nevada sighed again, "I just wish that she wouldn't believe everyone was good."
Always with Stormy. It's always Stormy this and that. She doesn't really mind- she knows she's never going to have a pedestal like Stormy's, but at the time she didn't want one. That kind of idolization and love disgusted her. Chel snuck up behind Nevada that time and grabbed her waist too tightly. She bit the girl's shoulder where it touched her neck just to hear the noise she made. She didn't want a pedestal, she just wanted Nevada to stop talking.
How long had it been since she had seen Stormy, with her staying in Chelsea's room for all the sexy times?
"I miss her." Nevada mumbled next to the pink haired girl, "I feel like I have been away too long." Somebody could steal her away. "Somebody will replace me if I'm not careful." She clung to Chelsea's body, "Somebody will take her away from me, and then I won't have that piece of me anymore." then what would she do.
"Then go ******** her if you're so into it Brownie"
"Why couldn't it be simple? Why couldn't I just fall in love with her." Nevada burrowed her head, "It's easy to fall in love, it's hard to just love." She kissed Chelsea's cheek. "God I am so terrible. Distract me, take me away. Help me." Do something. She needed to give Stormy space. give her room.
Chel remembered being not very into it that night. It was never nice to ******** someone when the other person's mind was one another person. Doable, certainly. Pleasurable, naturally. But fun? Not really.
She'd do anything Nevada asked her though. If Nevada was suffering, she didn't need to be told twice to take it away. She had hands and tools to help. Anything for someone else. It was fun, anyways.
"She like disney. She calls everyone a disney princess! I'm still working on finding her one." Nevada held out all the princess videos she and Stormy shared, for Chelsea to see. "Who do you think she fits the most? I say tinkerbell really, small little fireball. She's not a princess...I know! But still...." Nevada shrugged, "that's who she reminds me of. Tinkerbell."
Chel remembered that Nevada compared her to Tarzan.
< It's not particularly noteworthy. >
Chel liked everyone. She didn't hate:
- Rep who assigned her as a broken object, incapable of function. < Oh but that part is true. >
Ian or Finn, that made fun of Jack for being remotely interested in her. < What? That was funny. >
So true haha.
Hanna.
Taym that didn't let her forget she didn't belong. Spending 10 minutes to read a tweet that bastardized her for not being able to tell n and u apart. Gibberish, he called it. That was what came out of her mouth. Not words or meaning. Gibberish.
The mirror for making her look so damn good. < That is my doing, I will receive credit where due, thank you. >
Jack for giving her such a powerful affection without providing direction for what to do with it. For scaring her with her own feelings.
Peyton for keeping some small part of Jack that she couldn't understand or agree with. For hurting him, but also for hurting herself. For creating reckless destruction when the world already had so much of that.
Chris that pushed her to this godawful island in the first place. Also for the small part of her that could never forgive him for what he did. No matter how close they were or how fiercely she protected him, she could never really let go of that part of herself.
Those that wouldn't let her leave it. Those that would keep her chained to this godawful rock until it choked out every piece of laughter she had left in her. Until it cracked every smile out of her body, until Chris would deem her unfit to be called Sunshine.
There had to be good in everyone though, that's what Chel thought. Even this god awful island wasn't the worst because she had met Jack and she'd found a place with Chris and she owned a cave and Abbi was there and there were so many memories that she held so dearly. There's good in everything and there has to be because everyone's afraid of something. That's why Halloween existed. That's why she loved Halloween and she wanted to explore every part of it. That's why she could make friends across borders and across species and across worlds; because that's all they were- imaginary lines drawn up out of fear. But most of all she needed there to be good in everyone to see it in herself.
She realized for the first time in her life she-
"Content."
-hated someone.
Chel is nineteen. Chel is nineteen and she wants to walk five doors down, rip her daggers into the door like a goddamn monster. She wants someone else to live in fear. The door- it's calling to her, like a heartbeat echoing in her chest. It's a sirens call and it's all she can do to cling to his skin like an anchor. She thinks she understands a little bit why Jack needs Peyton. She wants to crunch through the soft wood of the door, and think about how similar it feels to get a splinter from Owain and a splinter from a door. She wants to grind her teeth together until they snap right off. These things are imagined so vividly that she can see herself clawing her way into the room, kicking and screaming.
She wants to leave writing on the walls, so that the stupid b***h has to read it every day the same way she gets to hear Nevada's old memories kick around in her head. At the very least has to buy paint and paint over it. No even better- she would scratch it into the very wood itself. Something you couldn't erase with the wave of a paintbrush.
It would say How dare you take away that part of his life? (Thank you for bringing him here though) How dare you push her to death? (I'm glad I don't have to run away anymore). How could you leave him behind to die when I'll crumble if he dies? (Why am I the only one that would crumble).
It hurts and she digs her fingernails into Jack's arm without meaning to.
How am I supposed to fill these giant's foosteps?
What can I do to be more like you?
I want them to love me so unashamedly too.
He begins to move and she recognizes the sound of him waking up. She immediately relents her grip on his arm and mentally kicks herself. In a way it's good though. Worrying about upsetting Jack gave her something to focus on. She turned and kissed him while he was still bleary but withheld these dark thoughts from their silent conversation; he already shouldered enough.
She carried on this way the whole day, the shadowy thoughts festering in the dark circles under her eyes.
But that night when she's walking upstairs and she passes room 221 she leaves a long dagger mark along the door, like a permanent marker against her teenage room's wall. It drags and she keeps walking until her arm slumps back to her side. She sheathes the dagger and doesn't say a word about it. She knows it will become conversation on the floor- hunters were chatty after all- but she doesn't even give the door a second glance. She just keeps walking and lets the world revolve around it.
