Jacklyn Baker (called_jack) wrote in the_colony, @ 2009-10-07 21:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | ^ week 00, jacklyn baker |
Characters: Jacklyn Baker and unknown drifter
Location: On the street in Jack's neighborhood
Summary: Jack stops to help a man on the street and discovers no good deed goes unpunished.
Rating: PG
The streets were quiet, but the streets were quiet all the time. At first it had made Jack nervous, but she was used to it now. She'd been scavenging again today, each time pushing out further and further away from her house. Before, when everything happened, she wanted to stay home where it was safe and locked herself in her room and stayed in bed, trying to dream it all away. But the food at the house had eventually run out. She had to eat, and the only way to eat was to go outside. Jack thought of it like shopping, where she got everything she wanted. She walked and walked until she found a place that had what she needed and then she took it. Food. Batteries. Clothes. Now she was on her way home from another trip, swinging a duffel bag and kicking at every rock or old bottle she found. In one hand she held a bag of chips and every so often, she popped one into her mouth with the bag hanging down her wrist so she could use her hands. A breeze tickled the ends of her ponytail, the sound of the potato chip crunching the only noise in an empty world. And then suddenly it was less empty. There was a man.
"You're a person." So shocked at seeing another human being, the words just tumbled out.
He looked as though he hadn't eaten in days, dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks sunken in. The faint breeze coming down the street brought the smell of his body odor with it, making her cringe a little. His eyes, however, were purely focused on the bag of potato chips. He did smell bad, but everything had gone crazy. It probably wasn't even his fault. Jack decided to ignore it, that seemed like what a grown-up would do.
"Are you hungry? You want a chip? Here, I've got lots." She offered the bag. His eyes seemed to light up at the offer, and suddenly he was all but invading her comfortable space.
"Thanks so much, sweetie," the man said, his voice surprisingly high pitched considering how old and haggard he looked. "Rilly 'preciate it."
Something made Jack take a tentative step back and there was worry in her eyes. "You're welcome," she said slowly. She watched as he all but inhaled the bag within seconds, his eyes moving over to her shoulder and the bag hanging from it.
"You need help bringin' all that back to yer place?"
Jack was amazed at seeing another person after so long, but she could feel in her bones that this man coming to her house was a bad idea. Use your head, Little Jack, said her father in her mind. "No, that's okay. I've got it."
"You be careful gettin' home, darlin'," he said with a nod, though he didn't pull back from where he stood next to her, his eyes darting back to her bag again.
"Thanks." She nodded back and started walking again, going past him. She was barely a few steps away before she felt herself yanked backward, her bag being pulled off of her shoulder forcefully.
Jack let out a screech as she stumbled backwards. "What are you doing! Let go!" She grabbed for her bag, trying to pull it back. "That's mine!" It had taken hours for her to gather everything in that bag, an eternity when you had to walk everywhere. Why was he trying to take it when she'd helped him? Looking into his face, it was as if he'd completely changed. His tired eyes had grown fierce and dark, and he was much stronger than she'd anticipated looking at him. Unexpectedly he shoved her hard, yanking the bag simultaneously.
Jack stumbled, but kept her grip on her bag by her fingernails. She couldn't let it go. That was hers. And at the same time, she was terrified. "I helped you," she protested. She did something good, bad things weren't supposed to happen. If he'd heard her, he didn't seem to care. Everything seemed to slow down to a crawl as his hand curled into a fist, pulled back, and hit her straight in the face.
It felt like Jack's cheek was going to explode, like her skull was on fire. It hurt so much and her eyes stung with tears. She let go of the bag, not wanting to be hit again. Now that he had what he wanted, the man fled and shaking, Jack watched him go. She felt sick and stumbled back until her back met the edge of the nearest building. With the wall for support, Jack sank down to the ground.
**
Back at school, Jack examined her appearance in a bathroom, her appearance reflecting back at her from a row of empty mirrors. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying and her face was bruised and swollen. It throbbed terribly and Jack had no ice to soothe it. She looked scared. That's what her reflection said. She was a scared little girl. Right then she hated it, hated being scared and small and alone. She didn't want to be that. She had to be tough.
Jack stomped out of the bathroom and into the nearest classroom. Scissors were easy to find, in the top drawer of the teacher's desk. By the time she was back in front of the mirror, she knew what she wanted. Jack pulled her hair loose from its ponytail and started cutting. The clumps of hair fell gently, like a halo around her, landing in the sink or on the floor. Jack didn't stop until there was only choppy fingerlengths left. Like a boy's, she decided, examining the results. Jack had always been a tomboy, dressing like a skater boy. With her hair like this, she didn't just dress like a boy, she looked like one too. She looked tough. Not a scared little girl anymore. Maybe if she wasn't a scared little girl anymore, people wouldn't hurt her again. It had to be better. She had to be safe. Be tough.
And then she went into the classroom she'd made her own. Once upon a time, this had been her English classroom but she was the only one here anymore. Jack curled up on the mattress on the floor - the one she'd dragged on a cart from a nearby store when she'd gotten tired of sleeping on a cot in the nurse's office - and cried.