John Connor (stop_skynet) wrote in nemetonlog, @ 2014-09-04 05:18:00 |
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Entry tags: | john connor |
Who: John Connor
When: Early evening
Where: His room
What: Ghost visit! [clue to it's identity in the cut text lol]
Rating: PG-13 to R
Warnings: High profanity. And a huge crapload of feels, so many feels.
Status: Complete
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It was shortly after nine in the evening. John was alone for the moment. He thought of asking Erin if she might want to visit again for another game night, but he wanted to study things. Or he should, anyway. Or at least clean the room a bit. But it wasn't so bad. Maybe a few magazines on the floor, bed with blankets undone, pillows propped up behind him, a couple dishes he'd used for chips earlier. Eh, he would clean up later when he had more time. He was actually playing a video game instead. In this case, Skyrim. Taking his elven archer around the countryside, sniping bandits while hidden, then looting, all that fun stuff. "Bam, headshot arrow," he muttered to himself, readying it for another attack.
"Huh, some things don't change," a woman's voice suddenly said, sounding hard and disapproving, with a light hint of anger to it. "Room is still a mess, but then so are you." He could swear he knew that voice. He gasped in surprise as he heard it, then turned and.. oh crap. Janelle. His foster mom from when he was a kid. When he was out running in the mall. And when the chameleon-like silver terminator had killed both her and Todd, than took her shape and voice in order to find him. It was something he always felt blame for. He'd wonder if he should have been nicer then, stayed home to help out. But then of course that would have led to his death. He had memories of his rude behavior to the both of them. It was on that same day. She's not my mother, Todd. Those were his words to the man as he had sped off on his dirtbike. If only he could have warned her in time. Or even had a chance to apologize for the past.
"Jannelle?" John stood up, confused and also alarmed. This didn't make sense. "But you're.. I mean, it said.. he said. You both died, how.. oh. Shit." He moved to frantically open his door to escape. Maybe it wasn't her after all.
"I know I died, you shit, kinda hard to forget an arm spike going through me," she spoke, annoyed. And now the kid was trying to run. "John. Seriously? Cut that out, I'm not one of them. I'd have killed you right off if I was."
John realized that made sense. Yes, a machine wouldn't talk first if it had gotten to him. But still, how was this happening. He still felt a bit afraid. This was a ghost, after all. Scary indeed. "Why? Why are you here? This doesn't make sense." He paused. "And the room is fine, it can be worse. I was actually gonna clean a bit after I had-" He looked at the screen and saw a cutscene of his character impaled by a bandit chief's greatsword, seemed he forgot to pause it when the ghost had shown up. Damn!
Janelle didn't look happy at all about his.. excuse for the room, and even worse that he was distracted by a goddamn game when she was right here. The TV screen had then suddenly cracked, the picture going out, and the whole TV would obviously need replacing. That definitely got his attention as she saw John jump in surprise yet again. "Tell me why. Right now, tell me why it happened. Why we had to die like we did."
John was breathing heavy, he could actually feel his own heartbeat. He wasn't prepared for this encounter. Everything that happened here so far and even back home, he never expected a ghost. He was pacing nervously, checking for escape routes, pacing, though the look in her face encouraged him to stand still. His hands still trembled a bit so he kept them at his sides. "Because my mother was right. My real mom. S-she, umm.. I'm sure you heard the reports from the adoption forms? Why she was in that hospital, what she did. Maybe about the crazy things she believed. About me, evil computers, future robots. Guess what... she wasn't crazy."
"Oh, I know," she said with a glare, gesturing to the stab wound in her midsection. "I know! That day? Two people looking for you. Big guy on a Harley, and later a cop. Ohh, that officer. He seemed so nice. Polite. Calm. He came back later and I found too late he was a predatory thing in disguise, wolf in sheep clothing. He smiled and asked about you. And you know what happened when I got close?!" She yelled now, angry, gesturing with her hands, "His arm pointed at me, it actually changed into a big knife and went through me. What was that! Really, what.. that doesn't just happen. And you know what else, kid? When that long knife was in me. I saw him change right in front of me. Into me. Seriously, it was like having an evil twin sister all of a sudden. But cold. No feeling. Now tell me, you ungrateful bastard, what we did to deserve that death! We were innocent. We never hurt anyone, no crime, paid taxes, helped neighbors.. innocent! So, why??"
"Because..." John faltered, trying to find the words to explain. If he even could. As she had described her own death in detail, he felt that guilt rising up to the surface once again. Guilt, sadness. Regret. "Because you were there, because you knew me," he finally spoke, voice cracking as he attempted to talk to her. "They always find me. It's what they do. And sometimes.. people, they get caught in the middle." His adoptive parents weren't the first. Others. Miles Dyson. Andy Good. It was the same as with his mother, so many died in the path of the first cyborg going after his mom, just to get to her. "I.. I'm sorry. I always wished I could have stopped that. And I wish I could have been a better.. um, a better.. son." He hadn't been. He had been a delinquent, rude, inconsiderate, and ignorant of his foster family. He also hadn't even believed his own mother at that time either. "I'm so sorry, Jan," John spoke, voice cracked with emotion, feeling water from his eyes as he sat on the bed. "I wish I could have prevented this. I might have been killed too, but I wish I'd been able to try. Or.. or maybe if I'd stayed home that day when the big guy came looking. He might have helped too and you and Todd would be okay."
"You're sorry," the woman said, tone incredulous, mix of disbelief and surprise. "You think that helps me now, helps us? Think it matters? So you're supposed to be a big damn hero, savior of the human race, bring us out of the Dark Ages of metallic technology-shit tyranny. You? Seriously. It's you?"
John didn't dare look up. He only felt more guilt as they spoke, as he'd see her. "I didn't want it!", he suddenly yelled, bottled up feelings releasing, which he wanted the opposite. "You think I want this?! You think I wanted the world to burn, for me to be the only hope or at least lead the ones who can help? I've always wanted to just have a normal life without worrying about what's coming. God, I wished my mom was deluded, that it was made up. I wish.. I wish it could have been someone else with that burden." He'd thought several times that there had to be someone else. Someone better, more qualified. But then again from what he had heard from future soldiers, he wasn't alone; just one of the main people who began to fight back, to give ideas, to learn from various people the different ways to survive. "I wish people didn't.. I wish they didn't die because of me or the war."
The air felt cold then, more so, as Jan was staring angrily at him. "Kid? You know, sorry doesn't help me. Yes, we're in a place where we can't be hurt. But.. dammit, boy. We had a fucking life. We deserved to live! My God, I wish we had sent you back to foster care when I'd wanted to! Everyone you love pays for it, your family, friends, people you meet in school? God help you if you get any of them killed, you shit."
"I-I'm trying to be better," John spoke, backing away from her as the spirit got closer with each word spoken angrily to him. "I don't do what I did before. I don't even swear that much either. I was a brat, I know. I know nothing I can say or do will change what happened to you. Even if I wish it did, it can't. I don't expect to be forgiven. That thing killed you, but.. like others? Like others, they're put at risk by association with me. I don't know what to do to prove it, so you know I'm different now-"
The window cracked then. "Oh, you can do something," Jan's ghost said, shaking her head, the light stand's bulb near the table bursting. The other lights flickered and chairs moved, just barely grazing by him as he jumped out of the way. "You can suffer. You can.. well, I'm sure you know. Don't be surprised if it'll be soon, Johnny." John almost got hurt by flying bulb glass, ducking aside and hitting his shoulder on the wall. Fortunately the tiny shard only left a small mark on the arm, but his side felt a tad bruised. He turned around to see Janelle rushing toward him, faster and faster.
He yelled out, closing his eyes and holding up his hands to shield himself for whatever came next and.. nothing. He felt nothing. His arms fell to his sides and he slowly stood up, feeling himself trembling briefly as he did so. He mumbled again how sorry he was, wiping his eyes dry as he sank back down to the bed. The 'talk' if it can be could that, it brought back memories and feelings concerning it that he had left buried within for years, and now resided on the surface. There no ghost with him here anymore; the room was silent and empty. John Connor was now alone.