Title: She Talks to Angels
Rating: PG, although the subject matter could warrant a PG-13
Warning: allusions to drug abuse
Pairing/Characters: Jessica, mentions of Fancy, Ivy, Sam
Word Count: 384.
Summary (for chapter): She locks herself in the bathroom, turns on the water to drown out their voices, studies herself in the mirror.
Jessica shrugs Fancy's instructions off, rolls her eyes as the woman shares an exasperated look with her mother, and wanders up the stairs, away from the prying eyes watching her, judging her. She knows what house arrest is; she hardly thinks her police chief father is going to let her forget. She locks herself in the bathroom, turns on the water to drown out their voices, studies herself in the mirror.
Dark circles, bruises really, ring the skin beneath her bloodshot eyes. Coupled with the heavy black eye liner she wears, and the smoky shadow of her lids, her blue eyes peer back at her, looking as overwhelmed as she feels in this moment. She drops wearily to the toilet seat, tugs at the skirt that rests several inches above her knees, glances at her toes. Her lips curl in distaste at their dirty appearance and focus back on her arms, the scars her father hadn't been able to tear his blue eyes away from. It was his laser-like intensity that had compelled her to flee, seek shelter elsewhere, and looking around, she feels unsettled at the changes time and a new bride have wrought.
Distantly, she hears a door close, a car start up, and Jessica knows without looking that Fancy has gone, left her here in this place. She feels both disquieted and relieved at the knowledge and stands up, inspecting all the nooks and crannies, lifting up a crystal container of flowery hand soap and putting it back down after an experimental sniff. She opens the medicine cabinet, finds it empty, and pushes it shut again, anger tightening her chest. She jerks open drawers, finds them empty of everything save linen, slams them closed. She feels that same itch of apprehension crawling along her nerve pathways and stifles the urge to scream. She settles for digging her fingernails painfully deep into her palms, throwing her head back against the wall, and slithering down it into an undignified heap, the water still running in the background.
She slips into an uneasy sleep.
When Jessica wakes, the sun is no longer shining, and the water has been turned off. She stares at the neat stack of clothing resting beside her rumpled head and feels her throat close up with tears.
She is home.
Thanks so much anonymous reviewer!
As short and sweet as it was, I can't tell you how much I appreciated getting the alert that someone had reviewed this story. ; )
Short chapter, this one. Too short, really, but these chapters are writing themselves, and since this story has hijacked my thought processes, I'm just going with the flow.
Feedback really is love.
Thanks so much for reading!