Sharp Edges chpt 3

The night air was thick and cold. Jen looked up toward the hanging circle in the midnight sky. The moon was golden and full. There were some northern winds, whispering tales of travel into her ears, but she had no time to stop and listen. She had to keep walking. 1

Jen possessed nothing but the clothes on her back and that small piece of glass. Her only friends, she thought. 2

A car drove by, with none to follow. The headlights were bright, which temporarily blinded her. She crossed the road once she was sure there were no more vehicles coming. Then she started to think of how she felt like those headlights, lucid and radiant, yet alone and wandering a dark, lifeless road. The depressing thought vanished with her willingness to carry on, to prove herself to the unmerciful world with all of its heartless inhabitants.3

She remembered how she felt like such an alien in her home. When relatives came, before they moved far away from contact, they would pick and fuss at how different she was. Every flaw was thrown out on the plate for everyone else to devour. And she could tell they found it ever so delicious. 4

Jen opened her eyes to the nightly stars before realizing she had no clue where she was. Dizziness came over her, so she lied down on the damp, dying grass to rest. Long before she perceived sleep, it over took her. 5

That night she dreamed. There were no rainbows and butterflies or little baby unicorns. There were no memories or renowned childhood thoughts. She dreamed hate and a fire so hot that even satin himself cowered. But there she stood, in the mist of it all, not a burn to her skin. Still, within she perished as her soul was being ripped apart by the hands of God himself. The almighty one gripped onto her soul and he would not let go, no matter how she pleaded and begged. Looking into his beautiful face, she found her fathers eyes staring back. This was far worse than any nightmare. 6

Jen sat up straight, beads of sweat rolling down the sides of her face. Her cheeks were so frozen, that her tears and sweat burned her skin. Flashes of her dream stormed her mind, as to shove death right through her bandaged heart. 7

The sun had already risen and she could hear cars zooming down the roadway, up the hill, onto their destinations. 8

She dried her face with the end of her sleeve. Getting up, she contemplated about which direction to walk. Where had she been heading the night before?9

On she went, step after step, foot after foot. Soon enough she was close to town and there she hoped to find her mother. Or at least hear word of her location. She sped up her pace. Eagerness had the best of her. 10

The streets were busy, as usual. There were people scrambling along to who knows where and trapped in their own minds. Too witless to slow down and enjoy being alive, enjoy what they had. Jen understood that people were occupied with trying to make a name for themselves. They are always too busy to notice the little people like her, the ones that don’t matter. But she had yet to understand why. Why they would care, what others thought. Why they figured it best to do nothing but work and ignore the small things that make being alive special. Humans are greedy and that is a worthless trait to have, it gets to your head. Humans scared Jen and they seemed to fear her as well.11

A man in a business suit walked by, colliding with her shoulder on his speedy pass. Not a single word of apologies was exchanged for his unnecessary rudeness. 12

Back in the real world, she sauntered on. There were stores after stores with the occasional café or dinning place. This was a new experience for Jen, who had be locked up for some time, both physically and mentally. 13

She came upon a small bookstore and thought it was safe to run in for a quick browse. Jen pushed the wooden framed door open, making a bell ring at her entrance. It made her feel good, to be greeted. Even though it was only a bell. 14

The strong smell of new books overwhelmed her, but she didn’t mind. She always appreciated the scent of fine literature. There had never been a moment in her short life for which she didn’t. Words were her escape. 15

An elder woman stepped into the room, no words were spoken. She was wearing an ordinary blue dress with a bit of ruffle at the bottom. The dress had wide straps at the shoulder and the woman was wearing a white turtleneck underneath. In the center of the dress was a small pocket, truly useless and quite tacky. Her hair was white with rare strips of gray. It seemed to be pinned up in a bun. In all, the woman appeared very boring and uneventful. 16

Jen solemnly looked away and began examining the room. Every wall was covered in shelves, except for one, which held hundreds of books. The only bare wall was in the desk area. Four tables sat in the open space, each bearing one lamp. 17

A young boy, in his mid teens, sat at the table furthest from the door. He was lost in a fantasy world, head low and he didn’t even look up when Jen sat down beside him. He had baby blue eyes and dirty blonde hair. Freckles dotted his nose, but they did not venture onto his puffy cheeks. His height was fair, not short nor tall. He tightly gripped the edges of his book and stared hard at the pages as if accusing them for some wrong doing. 18

Jen knew it was rude to stare, so she got up and walked over to one of the shelves. The books were not in order as she had imaged, simply thrown on the shelves, left to wait. She saw titles she knew and some that she didn’t. Many were classics such as “The horse whisperer” and “The picture of Dorian Gray.” Book after book, title after title, she looked and found herself very amazed. A comfort came about her. 19

Suddenly she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning, she came face to face with the boy. 20

“Excuse me, I need to put this book back,” he said in a strongly toned, yet gentle voice. 21

Jen said nothing in return, only stepped back. He did as he said he needed to and began scanning the books, looking for his next escapade. 22

The moment was broken by the deafening shrill of sirens. An ambulance and police car flew by on the road. Jen’s first thought was her mother.23

She ran out of the door and tried her hardest to follow the rushing vehicles. They took a left turn and she thought she would lose them, surely they would leave her helplessly behind. To her luck, when she turned the corner, they were stopped by an alley. Next to it stood a small building. The sign read “Crazy joe’s,” it was a strip joint.24

Jen made her way over to the growing crowd. It was hard for her to peek and the question was burning a hole right through her screaming heart. Was her mother dead? The painful tension lead her to push and shove her way through the people, ignoring the shouts of frustration and annoyance. Making it to the front of the pack, she could not believe her eyes. Or she did not want to, rather. There lied her mother against the alleyway brick wall. 25

More than often, such a sight would send one to tears and horrified shrieks, but Jen could not help but stare. Everything went blank as if she was the only one, watching her mother sleep. She’s only sleeping, thought Jen, only sleeping. 26

An officer grabbed at her arm, trying to direct her away from the scene, but he was caught off guard by a single word, “mom.”27

The officer became immobilized by what he had just heard. “Mother?” he repeated in a whine of disbelief. 28

“Yes, mother.” Jen did not let her gaze stray from its fixed pathway. 29

Her mom’s head was limp and it rested upon her shoulder. Three skinny fingers still hooked the handle of her favorite red handbag. Jen stepped forward, each muscle moment more strenuous than the last. With great exertion, she bent over and kissed her mothers cheek, one final time. 30

A different officer rushed to her side, but not to comfort. He tugged at her arms and said she had to leave. Her presence could possibly tamper with the evidence. 31

So away Jen ran. She ran from her dead mother as she ran from any other problem she had ever encountered. This anguish she could not endure. The street seemed to lengthen underneath her feet. Forever she would run, forever she would abandon the one who truly loved. 32

She turned the corner and headed back toward the bookstore just before hearing the cries from the boy. 33

“Hey, hey!” he called after her.34

She slowed to a fast walk and waited for him to catch up to her. It was the same one from the bookstore. She figured he had followed her.35

“Hey, girl,” he began, “did you really know that woman?”36

“Yes,” she replied with a steady and emotionless voice. “She is . . . was my mother.” Her pace lightened with every couple of steps. 37

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I am so very sorry.”38

“How could I expect you to know? We have only met. And do not be sorry for me because she’s the one lying cold on the ground.” Jen stopped as her words resonated through her mind. Head hung low, tears slowly flowed. “She loved me,” she whispered.39

“What was that?” he asked. “I did not hear you.”40

“She loved me!” Jen shouted. “She actually loved me!” She dropped to her knees, right there on the sidewalk. People looked, but did not stop to ask. Hands to her face, she sobbed. There she let the world see her tears. She showed her weakness. She desired, so badly, to cut. 41

The boy had never been around someone in such a state and did not know what to do, how to react. In a desperate attempt to play it cool, he kneeled next to her. Placing his hand on her arched back, he spoke kind words of support. “Everything will be okay. It may hurt now and any other time you think of her, but do not let the loss leave a space within you.”42

“How is that possible? She was apart of me. She created me!” Jen exclaimed. 43

“Think of it this way, if you let every pain and tragedy leave a hole in your heart, you’ll die with nothing left but a void. Now what kind of life is that?”44

“You know nothing about me or my life. You have no idea what you are talking about.” Despite verbally pushing him away, she appreciated his efforts. In fact, she took what he had said to heart and in truth, agreed. Tears ceased and skin dried. She was ready to move on with her sad, tormented life. 45

Getting up, with help from the boy, she asked of his name. 46

“Jonathan, Jonathan Banks,” he recited proudly. “That lady in the bookstore, she is my grandmother and she basically raised me.”47

They began to make their way back to the store.48

“Why did she practically raise you?” questioned Jen.49

“Because like you, I lost my mother as well. I was really trying to help back there. In a way, I do know how you feel.”50

“I’m sorry,” she apologized,” I had no idea.”51

With a grin, “how could I expect you to? We have only met!”52

Regardless of the recent finding of her mother, she could not help but softly laugh at what Jonathan had just said. She realized that he made her feel safe and warm. For the first time in what seemed like forever, she felt that she could trust a guy. 53

“So I never caught your name,” he replied. 54

“Oh, forgive my manners. My name is Jen.” There was an awkward pause between them. “Once again, forgive my manners, but may I ask how your mother . . . why isn’t -55

“How she died?” he finished for her. 56

A blush spread across her already pink, tear worn, cheeks. “Yes.”57

“Well when I was young, my dad left us. My mom and I that is, or so I was told. I must admit that I have never seen or heard from him in my lifetime. Anyway, I grew up without a father and my mother became ill. She said it was his fault and that she was dying of a broken heart. I did not know what to believe though. She was a liar, my mom.” His gait slowed to a crawling tread. 58

“Do you ever wish you knew your father? I mean, I understand you haven’t heard from him, but if you knew the kind of person he was.”59

“I don’t know. It all depends, you know?”60

“More than you’d think.” Jen bowed her head to hide her tears. Her fathers voice rung through her head, stabbing at her already fractured emotions. 61

He looked at her, puzzled. “Is that what you meant when you said she loved you, your mother? Like me, was she the only one you had?” 62

Jen looked up and saw a saddened boy. He appeared to be so very vulnerable in that moment. “Basically, yeah. My dad, he isn’t the best father in the world. He drinks to no return and it just gets to me sometimes. I don’t know whether to feel bad for him or to hate him for it. I just don’t understand why he would do such a thing to himself, to his family. I don’t understand why he would choose to abandon his family like he has. None of it makes sense anymore and well, frankly, I find myself wishing I were dead. Hoping to leave this piece of crap we call a planet.”63

“Those are some really strong words you have there. And death? Please don’t go in that direction. Think, really, all of us people were seconds, if not less, from not being conceived and born for that matter! Then we make it this far and life is just way too short to end it so quickly. You made it here, so why not live life while you can?”64

“I know and thanks. It is always nice to know that someone out there cares about whether I’m alive or not. I find myself questioning that a bit too often.” 65

They had reached the bookstore entrance and just in time. He had her going to a place she had not visited for sometime. She hated to think of how self-critical she was. What she truly thought of herself. 66

Inside, Jonathan asked his grandmother if Jen could stay the night in the guests’ bedroom upstairs. She said that she didn’t mind, as long as she did not cause trouble. They all came to an agreement on that and so, upstairs she was bound. 67

Jonathan showed her into the guest room. It was fairly small and, like the woman, simple. Everything in site had a thin film of dust. 68

“I must apologize for the state of this room. It was only used once before and that was for storage,” Jonathan said as he critiqued the rooms current condition. “Well I must be heading back downstairs. You may join us if you’d like, but you don’t have to. I would think you’d like to be alone, under the circumstances.” He quietly left the room, closing the door behind.69

Jen sat on the sheet less bed. Dust flew up into the air, circling around like a plastic bag in the wind. A neutral expression conquered her face, but inside she was plagued with distress. What was she to do now? Her father had more than likely discovered her unplanned disappearance and her mother was a bit too busy being dead to stick up for her. To take the painful blows of his fists. There was only one option she was fully open to, keep running. Jen realized that her life, up to this point, was nothing compared to what was to come. She had found it hard to live on before, so how was she going to survive through this? Nothing was straight. She tip-toed over to the door and locked it. Reaching into her pocket, out came the glass. 70

Peeling off the dried blood, she cleaned the sharpest edge. Life was her occupation, depression her religion, and sharp objects her gospel. A long hard gaze at the floor and she was ready. 71

The glass had been warmed by her body heat, so it did not burn on contact, as she wanted. Pressing down hard, she slowly pulled back and carefully observed her skin sever before her. Harder she pressed, deeper it went. Clots of blood started to rise as she reached the end of her first slice. She giggled at the sight, the wound playing connect the dots with the small, round balloons of blood. Humming, she began to work on her second incision. Before she knew it, words from an old song she wrote found their way off her tongue and into the dusty atmosphere. 72

Here I am,73

on the edge74

of the boat on seas of hopelessness.75

Can you see,76

how I fade towards the light77

or did you think I was okay?78

I’m not ready for this mess,79

time and pity do nothing less.80

All I want is to be more than this.81

Still I keep falling down, down, down82

to where the world can’t see my tears.83

Everything is fine, stop asking here.84

I’m just waiting for something more85

to make my life alright to live.86

And you know that it’s getting hard to breathe.87

Every word is forced to leave me,88

but I pray everything will be okay89

because I know it’s wrong to die this way.90

Tell me now,91

do you see this pain I feel?92

Shedding blood as I weep to seem so real.93

Heading for the chorus and finishing her seventh cut, someone knocked on the door. Shock struck her mind and panic filled the entire room. She struggled to think of an excuse for the blood on her wrists and the glass in her hand, but, oddly enough, nothing great came to mind. 94

“One minute,” she called out to whom ever. Regret held her still as she stood silently in the middle of the room. “I’m not completely ready to come out yet, I’m sorry. Just . . . just give me five more minutes and I’ll come down.”95

“It’s okay, I can wait.” The voice was so familiar, so like her dads. 96

“Shit,” she whispered to herself. She had never expected him to actually find her, not here. Not like this. There was no where else to go, no other way out. She ran into the bathroom, hoping for a window. She did not care if she had to jump, she just wanted to get away. To her demise, dirty white walls enclosed her completely. Filled with frustration, she punched the wall. Releasing the horror, she screamed. On and on her lungs burned, her throat ached. Her desperate cries did not go unheard and soon enough there was banging at the door. “No!” she yelped. She was convinced that death was at the door, but with no where to run, she had to face her cruel fate. Clambering over to the door, she glared at the turned lock. Her fingertips were so very close, but refused to grasp the only thing protecting her. Quick, to skip as much mental torture as possible, she switched the lock with a click. The door flew open before she had the chance to grab the knob. In came her father, angry as ever. 97

Checking back to make sure things were clear, he clamped onto her throat. “Listen good child. Don’t you ever leave like that again, you hear me? Come now, we’ll finish this at home.” Just before they were both through the door, he noticed the blood seeping through her sleeve. “What the hell is that?” he questioned loudly. “What did you do?” He reached out for her arm, but was surprised when Jen pulled it away. In that moment, they had the scariest staring contest known to man. Each glaring as to pierce a hole right through the others heart. 98

Jonathan’s grandmother came up the stairs and stopped cold at the unnatural site. “Is everything alright?” She asked with an all-knowing smirk. 99

“Yes, fine, everything is just fine. Having a little chat with her, that is all,” replied her lying ass of a father. “We will be out of here momentarily. So sorry to have disturbed your very busy day.”100

She stood there, not a hint of motion in her entire body. All had become quit. Jen choked, trying her hardest not to laugh at the awkward silence and believed lies.101

“Do you honestly believe him?” blurted Jen. Trent’s face looked amusing. It beheld confusion and utter astonishment. With a laugh, Jen continued her suicidal rant. “I mean look at him! Just have a look! Do you not see the same lying face as me?” The lady did not make a sound or facial change. She was so unresponsive, Jen would have thought she were dead had she not been standing. And if it weren’t for her nerves, she would have marveled in wonderment of her own strength. “Ask your grandson! He has heard of my hopelessness. My needed rescue from this horrid monster.”102

“Ah, of course. I have been timely informed of a certain undesired person whom which now stands before me.” she said with a evil sounding voice and murderous stare in Trent’s direction. “That is why I have come. I do believe it is best fit for the girl to stay here.”103

“Have you gone mad? This is my child and you can not simply take her, you old withered moron.” He appealed with disgust. 104

“Well, you may take that up with the law. They are on the way you know.” The smirk had slyly slipped onto her face once more.