[ it’s been weeks since something has made her pause, made her go cold all over and knock the wind out of her. the memory is being buried slowly, piece by piece. it’s been pushed into the dark, where Jem’s tried desperately to make it go away. out of sight, out of mind; if she doesn’t think about it, it never happened. if she doesn’t think about it, no one will ever make her feel that way again.
he can’t. Orest is out of reach, a pathetic blip on the multiversal map. he’s nowhere, he’s nothing. she still has to fight back the instinct to send, in a panic: please don’t bring this up. she sucks in a breath instead and reminds herself that she’s fine. she’s safe. no one is going to ever make feel like that again.
minutes pass; long enough that she could just ignore it. move on. keep going. keep burying. it wouldn’t make her any less raw about it, or any less angry. ]
i hate that motherfucker. ( danny knows that jem doesn't like to think about it, talk about it, but there isn't a day that he doesn't wish that he'd knife-fucked that little bitch a new cunt right there in the middle of dinner. ) i hate that you'll talk to me about anything but you won't talk to me about that.
[ not for the first time, Jem misses the intimacy of sharing her thoughts: misses the oppressive wave of Danny’s thoughts blocking out her own; misses the subtle, quiet indications of how she feels. her head is so quiet these days, and especially now.
she misses extending the feeling of i appreciate what you’re doing and i love you for this and talking about it scares me.
( it would have been easier, back in rubilyk, taking some of it, letting her tell him in thoughts over words. another thing to hate. danny's always been all rage with nowhere to go but back inside, his ugly stellar core fat on hate and more hate, but that doesn't have to be jem or john or house. not while he's around. not while he's burning hot enough to sustain the four of them for a long eternity.
he wants to know. he wants to take it for her. )
say it to me if you ain't gonna say it to anyone else.
( fuck that guy. fuck that danny didn't kill him. fuck that danny doesn't know the right words to say to make any of this better because that's another way his daddy failed him, because that's what his daddy to him and now that's what danny does to other people, quid pro quo: make them feel small and worthless. )
[ it hasn't been long at all, has it? three months, give or take. sometimes she still feels worthless, when she's all alone and left to the silence of her own thoughts. she tries very hard not to think about it; she tries even harder not to remember the way Billy had burned with humiliation and anger, how small he'd looked next to her. how little she'd been able to do to to fight.
sometimes she still scrubs herself raw when it's just her in the shower or the bath. frantic, mindless scrubbing, back and forth, over and over again.
she felt worthless before Orest, too. less often than now, but sometimes. she isn't sure she can put into words how much it means that Danny tells her she isn't.]
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he can’t. Orest is out of reach, a pathetic blip on the multiversal map. he’s nowhere, he’s nothing. she still has to fight back the instinct to send, in a panic: please don’t bring this up. she sucks in a breath instead and reminds herself that she’s fine. she’s safe. no one is going to ever make feel like that again.
minutes pass; long enough that she could just ignore it. move on. keep going. keep burying. it wouldn’t make her any less raw about it, or any less angry. ]
i know
but i wanted it to be me
[maybe now it’ll just be Billy. ]
i deserved to have it be me
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( including that. )
i hate that motherfucker. ( danny knows that jem doesn't like to think about it, talk about it, but there isn't a day that he doesn't wish that he'd knife-fucked that little bitch a new cunt right there in the middle of dinner. ) i hate that you'll talk to me about anything but you won't talk to me about that.
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she misses extending the feeling of i appreciate what you’re doing and i love you for this and talking about it scares me.
all she has now, is:]
thinking about it makes me feel sick
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( it would have been easier, back in rubilyk, taking some of it, letting her tell him in thoughts over words. another thing to hate. danny's always been all rage with nowhere to go but back inside, his ugly stellar core fat on hate and more hate, but that doesn't have to be jem or john or house. not while he's around. not while he's burning hot enough to sustain the four of them for a long eternity.
he wants to know. he wants to take it for her. )
say it to me if you ain't gonna say it to anyone else.
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i don’t
i don’t want you to look at me differently
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1/2
ugly
2/2
and it hurt
he took things from me that i trusted other people with and he ruined them
he made me feel small
and worthless
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baby, you ain't worthless.
cw: rape aftermath thoughts
sometimes she still scrubs herself raw when it's just her in the shower or the bath. frantic, mindless scrubbing, back and forth, over and over again.
she felt worthless before Orest, too. less often than now, but sometimes. she isn't sure she can put into words how much it means that Danny tells her she isn't.]
you never make me feel worthless.
i want the things he took from me back