Survivor

Despite the blaring music voices rang through Jackson's shut door. 1

'You bitch, they're my kids too.'2

'Want to see what court in Dallas, no what court in Texas would give an alcoholic full custody. I'm fine with that, lets find out.' Jackson could her mother's smirk.3

'You wouldn't.' Jackson's father sounds breathless with shock, like he'd just been socked in the gut. Her mother would do something like that.4

'Try me.' Jackson pictures the dyed blonde crossing her arms. 5

'Maybe I will.' He screams, slamming his coffee cup onto the kitchen floor.6

Jackson shrugged and turned down her CD player in time to hear a door slam and a car pull out. Looks like daddy dearest was going to spend the night at his office again. It was not big deal, Jackson had never had an easy life, she was used to it by now. From the day she'd been born she'd struggled just to live. To some life would seem sweeter because of that struggle, to others it would seem more terrible because of that struggle. To Jackson it meant nothing. It meant nothing except that she was a survivor. She'd survived not making it too full term, she'd survived an alcoholic father, she'd survived sexual abuse from a grown man she hardly knew, she'd survived two suicide attempts, an eating disorder, and countless broken hearts. 7

It wasn't that Jackson wanted to survive; it was just the only thing she'd ever been any good at. 8

At sixteen, the effects of her premature birth were resurfacing. Her respiratory system was weak, as was her immune system. A year of bulimia had left her with constant stomachaches and borderline diabetes. 9

Jackson didn't really care. She was used to the stomachaches and had used an inhaler since she was twelve. The diabetes thing was annoying, but no biggie. She ate as much sugar as before and actually relished how it took her body from an almost instant sugar high to an equally instant sugar low. 10

Jackson sighed and rolled over onto her stomach as Three Day's Grace started to play. 'I Hate Everything About You.' 11

She grinned bitterly, "Story of my god damned life." she twisted the ring around her small finger.12

Laying her head on her arms she looked around her room, at the trophies that lined one wall, at the desk covered in pictures, at the James Dean poster right in front of her. With a sigh she sits back on her heels, kneeling Japanese style on her red and black sheets. Gently she pulls her sweatshirt off and folds it neatly. Next she pulls off her long sleeved Slipknot shirt. Wearing only her black tank top and oversized jeans she sits back, crossing her legs Indian style. Looking closely at her arms she smiles angelically as she gently fingers the scars on her wrists.13

How strange and out of place they looked on her pale arms.14

How strange and out of place her own arms looked without a single fresh cut.15

The empty canvases of her arms were a testament to the all the lies that had convinced Jackson that she was okay. Even though she wasn't. With another gentle smile Jackson reaches behind her headboard, running her fingers across the silken wood, searching for the razorblade she kept taped behind it. 16

Her childish face fell as she remembered exactly where her razorblade was. A tear slips down her cheek as she remembers giving it to him, asking him to please throw it away. 17

She'd had everything that day. She'd had him, she'd had a real smile, she'd had a reason to live. And now all of that was gone. He was gone, well not gone, just not there when she needed him, her smile was long gone, tossed out with the garbage last Thursday morning, and her reason to live, she couldn't even remember what that had been. She didn't even have her trusty razor blade.18

She slipped out of her jeans and pulled on a pair of blue pajama bottoms. Shivering, she walked into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. The harsh bathroom lighting made her appear even paler. Jagged black smudges around her pale gray eyes made her look gaunt and half - dead. Her long dyed black hair was tangled and flat. Jackson sighed, realizing now, that he had never loved her. You can't love a dead girl can you, you can't love a mistake, you can't love something so broken, something that can never be put back together. 19

Turning the handles Jackson plugs the sink and watches as the icy water fills the marble basin. Pulling the rubber band from her wrist she pulls her hair back into a messy bun. She turns the water off and starts to wash her face. Looking into the mirror, eyes red with the tears she held captive she sighed again. She looked so young without any make up on. She looked too young to be so terrible a person. Scrubbing harder she wipes all the make up from her face. Jackson cups her hands and splashes water on her red, scratched face. The soap stings as it runs in thin rivulets across her face. Holding her breath, Jackson puts her face into the water and opens her eyes, almost welcoming the singing sensation. And when she feels her lungs can take it no longer a loud banging on the bathroom door interrupts her reverie. With a startled jump Jackson starts to dry her face. 20

'Jackson, phone for you.' Her little sister knocks again. 21

'Who is it?'22

'Some guy.' Jackson wipes her face one last time and opens the door.23

She takes the phone and heads to her room, ignoring her thirteen-year-old sister's questioning glance. 24

Sitting on her bed she rearranges the pillows and makes herself comfortable. Listening to his deep voice she allows herself a small smile, grateful she still had this one friend. She'd known Jon for almost eleven years. He'd sat next to her on her first day of first grade, and pulled her hair. She'd kicked his ass that night in karate. They'd been best friends ever since.     25

Well until she'd fallen for him. He didn't know it, and he never would. Jackson had been hurt too many times to make that mistake. Besides, she thinks that she just might be in love with him, and love always ended in some sort of pain. She refused to do that to him. 26

Laughing at another one of his lame jokes Jackson rolls out of bed and walks over to her desk. Holding the phone in her left hand she opens a drawer with her right and moves a bunch of papers around.27

Jackson smiles, almost maniacally, and lifts the Exacto knife in triumph. She shuts her door, and turns her blue lava lamp on after she turns the overhead light off. Leaning onto her pile of pillows she fingers the blade while talking to Jon.28

Setting it next to her on the bed she tells herself not to pick it up, not to use it, but it was just too much. Her own childish face so full of desperation kept haunting her. The pale grey eyes and scratched cheeks. They way the medications left her looking half dead. The way she knew no one could ever love her; it was all just too much. Picking up the blade she cradled the phone between her ear and her shoulder. Black hair fell across her face, obscuring the moment of peace that came with her first cut in months. 29

She made another thin red line and another, until her wrist was covered in these red lines. Some she made into pictures and some into words. She just kept going, waiting for the moment of total bliss, where there was nothing left in the world, nothing except for Jackson and the pain in her arm. With a flick of the blade she carved a small heart and slashed a line through, another broken heart for Jackson. She started a line at her hand and traced it all the way to the inside of her elbow. 30

With a hissing intake of breath she realized she’d cut too deep this time. 31

‘Jackson, What was that?’32

‘Nothing, nothing at all.’ She stammers out wondering what to do.33

‘What did you do?’ 34

‘I accidently stabbed myself with a pen.’ She says, her voice shaking.35

‘Jackson, tell me what just happened.’36

‘Nothing.’ She says, voice slightly stronger37

‘Tell, me or I’m coming over.’38

‘Fine, come over, I’m perfectly fine.’ Her voice cracks.39

‘That’s it, don’t move an inch.’ He says, the fear in his voice obvious.40

‘Don’t worry, I won’t’ Jackson doesn’t think she could move even if she wanted to.41

Breathing shallowly Jackson puts as much pressure on her arm as she can. The room starts to spin, and Jackson thinks that she just might not survive this. After everything she had survived, after all the abuse, and all the sickness, she just might die at her own hands. Her darkened room fades in and out as she loses more and more blood. A loud tapping noise startles her into consciousness. Looking around dully, she realizes, someone’s tapping on her window. She literally rolls out of bed and onto the floor. It takes every once of strength in her body, but she manages to crawl to her window. As the blood drips down her arms she flips the lock and pushes it up, collapsing before it was even halfway up.42

Jon shoves it up the rest of the way and pulls himself in. He kneels down next to Jackson and puts her head on his lap.43

‘Jackson, Jackson, come on Jackson wake up.’44

She mumbles a little and her eyes flutter open and shut.45

‘Come on, don’t die on me. Please don’t die, not now, Jackson please.’ His voice cracks ‘Please Jackson, don’t leave me, I really think I love you.’ 46

Jackson’s eyes open a little and she starts to smile, a little.47

‘I’m fine.’ She whispers.48

‘Jackson, you are bleeding to death, you aren’t fine.’49

‘No, I’m not bleeding to death, I’m just a little woozy.’50

‘I’m getting your parents, I’m not going to lose you.’51

‘They won’t care.’52

‘Jackson.’ He looks her square in the eyes.53

‘He’s not home, and she’s drunk.’   54

‘Fine, forget them, it’s not like they were good parents to you. I’m taking you to the hospital.’55

Jackson shakes her head.56

He nods.57

‘They’ll take me away.’58

‘I know, but I’ll stay with you the whole time.’59

‘Promise?’ She asks, light blue eyes, huge in her almost translucent face. 60

‘I swear.’ He lifts her into his arms and stands up. 61

‘Did you mean that?’ She asked whispering into his shoulder, ‘What you said earlier? Do you really love me?’62

Jon whispered back, as he carried her to his car, ‘Yes I think I do love you.’63

‘Good, cause I love you too.’ She whispers back.64

He sets her in the front seat and brushed strands of black hair from her face. Jackson started to cry. Sobbing she looked steadfastly away from him and tried to wipe the tears away.65

‘It’s okay to cry.’ He says climbing into the driver’s seat.66

She shakes her head no.67

‘But it is.’68

Taking a deep breath she calms herself down and looks at him, “I don’t cry.”69

‘You should.’70

She looks out his window, ignoring the tears that started to pour down her cheeks. ‘I can’t do this, I can’t survive any more. I’m tired of it.’71

‘Jackson, don’t give up, don’t you dare leave me here alone.’72

She sighs in defeat, ‘I won’t.’73

She leans her head on his shoulder and starts to fall asleep, but mumbles something. 74

‘What?’ Jon asks as he parked his ’91 Ford pick up.75

‘Don’t leave me.’ She says, almost pleading.76

‘I won’t, I promise I’ll be there when you wake up.’77

‘Promise?’ She asks again.78

‘I promise I won’t leave you alone.’79

And with that he carries the broken and bleeding Jackson into the ER, praying to all the gods and saints he could think that she would somehow be okay. Knowing deep in his heart that she would survive this too, because deep down Jackson really was a survivor, his survivor.80