Author's Note: Another Gold Digger/Jetta fic. Just a short piece, this time in the first person. Different feelings, after seeing a newer issue of GD that dealt with Jetta's betrayal by her father.
Sometimes you wonder why it hurts so bad.
You've heard all the advice. They've told you it wasn't your fault, that they made their own choice. They tell you you're better off without them. If that's true, why do you stay awake at night, staring at a ceiling and wondering why? Why can't you sleep, why can't you eat, why can't you be happy until that elusive answer comes to you?
It's been two weeks, and I still haven't had a decent night's sleep. I toss and turn, trying to find that position in which I will get comfortable to fall asleep. It doesn't exist. I sleep for only short amounts of time, and then the nightmare comes. I replay the events over and over again in my mind. And I awake in a cold sweat, unable to think of anything else.
Happiness comes in small doses now. A smile from a friend, a hug from a loved one, the brief feeling of freedom that the hunt gives. It is through that latter act that I also let out most of my agressions. I find myself pretending the prey is him, that I have finally caught up to him, and can strike him down in vengeance. But then the rage subsides, and new questions form. Could I really do it? Could I really live with myself?
And what about the happy times? What am I to make of those? Before this happened, we had happy memories. Memories of being a family. Are those all soured by what happened? I can't even think of them without bursting into tears. If I could, I would erase them all from my mind. I curse my existance for being born of his blood sometimes. And other times, I find myself wishing he was still here, and that we were still a family.
All because of what he wanted to become. All because the power blinded him. All because of three words.
"I don't care."
With that, the one who raised me was revealed as a monster I didn't even know existed. How long had he been there? Was it something that developed over time? Or was it always there? Did all of the loving words and happy times been nothing more than a lie to him? The answers were hidden, and perhaps they would be forever.
And perhaps it was something else. Perhaps it was something far deeper than that. You can see some of yourself in those words of deceit. Every time I concoct a lie, no matter how small, it is a little part of that monster appeared in my own flesh. You begin to question her own self worth. You ask yourself questions that you can't answer. You don't want to think the potential to become something like that is within you... but you couldn't dismiss the possibility.
But, if you can't trust yourself, how can you ever trust others? Who is to say that their words of friendship and love were true? They might well be speaking to you in one way and, as soon as you are no longer around, change their tone. Maybe even one or more of them could be a monster in the guise of a friend, a loved one... if it could happen to a family member, why not one of them?
Sadly, I know only one way to find the answers to all of my questions. A way that had been taken away from me with such cruelty. It is the way I had found the answers to most of the questions in my life, and the one person I felt I could truely trust. But she was no longer there. It was the cold irony that the solution were the words he had uttered to me, to make that final insult.
"Ask your mother, Jetta... ask your mother."
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