She used to be full of conviction. Jada could remember how it had felt, when she was young. She could remember saying that she was going to fight, that she wasn't going to give that nameless enemy a victory, or the satisfaction of seeing her fall. Order was good, and Chaos was bad, and the youma were a mindless scourge. The senshi were misunderstood refugees, and the Negaverse was nothing more than heartless butchers intent on genocide, and there were no other options. She had seen the wisdom in the theory behind the Blood Moon, and been willing to fight, kill, and risk death for her Court. Jada had known that war came at terrible cost, and that when she fell, it would be with a bang, not a whimper.
.....She stared at the ceiling, watching the fan move round and round and round in ceaseless rhythm, wondering why her psychiatrist kept it so hot in her office, only to use a fan in the middle of winter. That was stupid. “How are you doing since coming home, Jada? You have settled in, gotten the twins in school. I got some excellent reports from the people you worked with in New York, and your rehab facility. You seem to be a survivor. I'm glad you chose to come back to me when you returned.”
.....I woke up the next morning, and the world was still moving on. There were still expectations, and people who needed me… I didn't overcome it, I ran from it… But the world didn't care. Days march on, and you move with them or get left behind. Sometimes I think senshi are quick to abandon logic for power. Especially in dire circumstances. That is when they are weakest to Chaos. No one escapes from a war. No one. Not even the survivors.
.....There were no survivors in the war between Jada and Scylla. Only broken things and ragged edges lay in the divide between lifetimes.
She used to be full of dreams. Jada believed in a fairy tale where love was enough, and forever, and yet it had been the first of her illusions to crumble and shatter, as her father screamed betrayal and her mother gave birth to the children of another man. She used to be as young as Giulia, dancing through life with optimism and joy, only holding the vaguest understanding of what pain and heartbreak could do to twist a person. So sure that loss would never change who she was at her core. Jada used to believe in kindness, love, and honesty. That she could succeed with enough effort. She used to believe in best intentions; and she could remember being convinced that good would somehow win the day, and that there would someday be an after.
.....Jada smiled, and made sure it wrinkled and brightened her eyes the way a smile was supposed to. “Who else would I come to?” she asked with a laugh.
.....I have no one else. “You know me better than anyone else does right now, and I would hate to have to break in a new psychiatrist.”
.....“Just remember my rule, Jada. I need you to be honest. I can't help you if you aren't honest with me, and that just wastes everyone’s time.”
.....Save me!
.....“Of course,” Jada reassured her with a smile, pressing her hands to her skirt. “Honesty. I will do my best.”
.....The gaze was penetrating and Jada let her smile falter under it, until the doctor nodded. “Good. Now. Is there anything you can think of that might not be in your other notes? Anything important happen while you were away? Good or bad. I missed a lot.”
.....I killed her.
.....“Nothing important.”
She used to be full of hope. She used to think, even while she lay in the hospital bed after being told that she had lost the chance for the future she dreamed of, that there were options. That she would be paid for her heartbreak with a happy ending to her story. And even after losing her miracle, she had thought maybe there would be another chance. She could find someone who would make her feel again. She could practice, raise her siblings to feel the love she had wanted to spend on her daughter, that small miracle that shouldn't have been possible. That small miracle that was the only good thing that had come out of being a senshi, with 10 perfect fingers and 10 perfect toes. And even then Jada had named her Hope, and stepped forward into the future, desperately trying to believe.
.....“You are lying.”
..... “I know.”
..... The silence stretched. “Why? You know I can’t help you if you lie.” They had just discussed it, Jada remembered, and here she was, hip deep in a blatant lie. But that was her life now, wasn’t it? Don’t let them in, don’t let them see who you are. They won’t love you, if they know you.
She used to be a person, and now she was just a cold shell of such a creature, longing for something (someone? anyone? anything!) to fill her empty places and unable to find it. The girl she had been slept inside her, and for the first time Jada was beginning to realize that being called frigid by her would-be lovers had nothing to do with the fact she wouldn't have sex with them, and everything to do with the fact she couldn't give away her heart to them. Her half-broken heart rested in graves, buried under piles of half-lost memories and gut-wrenching pain from a life that wasn't hers, smothered in never-would-be moments; her fist curled around a ripped up heart that still wanted to believe in fairy tales, but was faced with the proof that she would never get one. She had no prince coming to save her, no knight in shining armor to kiss her and free her from the curse that she had brought upon herself. (She needed someone to save her.)
..... Why lie? Why let her know it was a lie? It was a risk. Because saying it made it real, somehow, and after two years, she was still in denial. Today was her second birthday. “Because it feels like breathing glass.” Because she was screaming for help, because she wanted it to not hurt anymore, and because there were a million things that not even desperately loving Giulia and Aidan could fix. “I’m not ready.”
..... Silence, and the sound of the fan thump-thump-thumping its pattern around the room, the breeze covering the sound of Jada’s ragged inhales and exhales. “You want to be better?”
..... “What do I have to be better for?” the question came out ragged, and desperate. “But yes. I’m trying. I’m still trying. I don’t know why I’m still trying when it will never matter.” in the end--
..... “There’s the honesty,” the shrink said with a sigh, and Jada looked at her with quiet despair.
She knew the lie, now. She knew that hope was a placebo to get you to the next day, while despair was a constant friend that lurked your heels and nipped at your toes. Jada understood that love was a fleeting prize that came with passion and was little more than an emotional response to lust. Affection was something reserved for your children and small animals, and not something to be squandered on the vagaries of attraction. Anything- anyone else was a business arrangement, a momentary pause or a means to an end. Maybe her mother had been right, when she told Jada that one day she would wind up used and alone. And perhaps it was not a maybe, because Jada felt the loneliness pluck her heart like the strings of an out of tune harp. Playing sad, minor chords, trapped in their casing and unable to change their key alone.
