Who: Jacob Where: Home When: Before dawn, Thursday 7/19
Jacob couldn't stop focusing on Jocelyn's shoes. She wasn't dressed for the muddy streets with her open toed sandals and it made her look especially vulnerable. All her clothes were muddy by now, clinging to her in ways that had to be uncomfortable. Jacob felt no pity, even if some narrator in the back of his mind thought he should - or would under different circumstances. He wasn't sure, it was all too foggy in his head. "Keep walking," he told her after she'd turned around and told him in a broken voice that he didn't have to do this.
"Jacob," she said tiredly. "You can just stop..." But he couldn't stop. He was someone important now and there were people following them, all dressed up like they were reenacting some historical event. Still, they had cell phones and they were filming Jocelyn's walk of shame.
At the square (was this on Main Street? It looked like it but it didn't) he had her kneel down on top of something, a box maybe, and she complied but she was crying. She had lost her sandals somewhere along the way and she curled her toes up as she knelt, her body shivering. "You deserve this," Jacob told her and then he stepped closer to her and pulled on her long, lovely hair. Before he knew it he was cutting it while the people around him laughed. "You killed Grayson."
Long locks fell to the muddy ground and Jocelyn just cried and tried to tell him it wasn't true. But it was true, at least he thought it was. Or at least he thought it had to be? There was still that voice in the back of his head that had doubts but it was so easy to ignore it. He wasn't gentle as he cut and he wasn't gentle when he tied her hands behind her back. "I've found you guilty, and now you must pay," he told her without an ounce of compassion and then he stepped back calm as anything and let the crowd have her. His brain didn't really process what they did to her, but images of animals getting ripped apart in some nature documentary flicked through his mind before he woke up.
For a few seconds he could still feel her hair in his hands and he cringed as he rubbed them against the sheets, choking back a quiet sob. He had to be quiet. Even as he gathered his thoughts he knew he didn't want Connor to wake up and ask him what was wrong, he couldn't tell him about this dream. He felt disgusting, cruel and filthy - as if it had happened for real. Going back to sleep felt impossible now because he was afraid he'd go right back to that strange place that didn't really exist but still felt like he'd been there many times before. He would have to see Jocelyn's body and acknowledge what he had done to her. Maybe he wouldn't even care if he went back there. Maybe he'd be cold again, impassive to her suffering. None of it made sense, none of them had killed Grayson and there was no part of him that believed it and certainly no part of him that wanted to hurt Jocelyn.
It had been just a dream, but it felt so real and so harrowing that it was hard not to burst out in honest to god sobs right then and there. Connor was the anchor, his warm body right next to him and the sound of his steady breathing like a metronome of calm. It was the only thing keeping Jacob from all out crying but he still had some tears trickling down his nose as he shifted closer to Connor for solace and tried to persuade himself not to call Joss in the middle of the fucking night just to make sure she was okay and not mad at him or something. The dream clung to him for a while after, a painful knot in his chest growing bigger and heavier. Eventually he did fall asleep again despite not wanting to and even if he had no more dreams that he could recall, he still felt like shit when he woke up the next morning with Connor kissing him goodbye. He faked a smile and maybe Connor just thought he was sleepy because he didn't ask if something was wrong and Jacob was both relieved and depressed by it. The urge to at least text Joss was strong but he couldn't bring himself to do that, wasn't sure he could look her in the eyes until his mind had fully grasped that it had just been a nightmare and that it wasn't true. Plus it was stupidly early in the morning. He didn't even have to look at his clock to know that since Connor had an early shift.
He was slowly starting to piece together that the place he'd been was some old fashioned mock-up of Point Pleasant, probably inspired by some depressing period piece he'd watched but didn't remember. Just a dream, brains were cruel, yet he couldn't shake the feeling there was more to it and that feeling of doom and dread made him feel like his heart was close to shutting down.