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Vice's Virtues 26: Hopelessness; In which we go on a trip down memory lane
Topic Started: May 2 2016, 12:52 AM (32 Views)
DSI
EWA Tag Team Champion
Past

Jane already hated her new school, which was an accomplishment. She had been there for 4 periods, and had made up her mind before homeroom even started.

They stared at her. Not even subtle. They fucking stared. She wanted to punch the life out of all of them and throw their corpses into the bayou, but she was nowhere near anything you could call a bayou.

She knew she was a troubled child having intrusive thoughts from the grief of losing her father to the waters, and losing her mother to being fostered out to Sean and Cynthia. She tried her best not to glare at everyone for about five seconds, but that didn't work. She turned to Anny. The guidance counselor had made sure they had the same lunch period, and Jane didn't appreciate it at all. Who gave a shit if Anny was with her? What the fuck did Anny mean to her? Nothing. They stood by Jane's locker while Jane ditched her backpack.

“I'm gonna buy a Poptart and cut lunch. I'll be at my next class.”

“No, don't do that! Come on, it’ll make it easier on you to make friends here, even though I know you're going back home soon. Don't spend your whole trip mad.” Anny grabbed Jane's forearm, big blue eyes wide and worried.

Jane's expression didn’t change. “Fine. I'll eat with your friends, and I won't even bite any.”

“Should I be worried about you biting people? Oh, you're joking. Um… We can't do that, anyway. There's only 4 people to a table, and we already have 4. I'm gonna find us someone else to sit with.”

“Oh, great. Now we're gonna interrupt someone else's life because my stupid dad had to go get himself dead.” Jane stared at the floor. She hated this. “Sean and Cynthia picked up a stray half-orphan, you got stuck sharing your room, Ryan, Jared, and CJ have all had to babysit me and that’s humiliating… every single person I know here has rearranged their lives because of my stupid dad, and now more people are going to?”

“Jane, you're not interrupting anyone by making friends. Friendship is a good thing. All of us are your friends, and we want to be here for you, even if that means a change or two. Don’t worry about the grownups. They're, like, in their 20s and 30s. They have it all figured out.”

~~~~~

Anny’s full name, as far as anyone could figure, was Annabelle Lee. CJ found her in Central Park late one night, and that's what she introduced herself as. She didn't know where she was from. She didn't know who was responsible for her. She didn't know how old she was for sure, or much of anything about her origin.

Anny had, at the time CJ found her, been living in an abandoned and condemned apartment building with a very nice schizophrenic boy named Jason. At least, she thought he was schizophrenic. He said his hockey stick was magic, and said he was a 500 year old god, which was obviously crazy talk.

She knew she liked to draw. She knew Anny was a good name for her. She knew that she smiled a lot and always had.

Anny didn't bother harping on her past. Why bother worrying about something you can't remember? When Jane talked about being a stray or unwanted or a half-orphan or abandoned, Anny just wanted to hug her. It must be difficult to remember hard times, she mused. Really difficult, she figured, to miss your mom and dad. Anny counted her blessings - her story sounded sad and all, but it wasn't. She had always been happy and safe.

Jane knew grief. Jane knew loss.

Anny knew love. Anny knew being found.

~~~~~

Anny scanned the cafeteria and spotted a table with 3 empty seats. A boy with red hair sat eating in silence, a sandwich in one hand and In Sylvan Shadows, a Dungeons and Dragons novel, in the other.

“Hi! I'm Anny and this is Jane and you're Andrew, and we need a place to sit and you're sitting alone, so there's room for us here.”

When Andrew looked up, he saw that the girls had already put down their trays and were making themselves comfortable. He tried to find the telltale sign that someone had put Anny up to this. It screamed of a setup; someone was pulling strings to laugh at him for thinking they wanted to sit with him. Anny was beautiful and everyone loved her. But she was too nice to be tricking people, wasn't she?

“I… Um. I already knew my own name.”

“Oh good, I'm the only one here who needs to remember it, then.” Jane narrowed her eyes at the ginger. He was not hideous, which was good, but he was a meek little thing and she didn't like him. “I'm only here for a little while, until my mom finds a new job and finds us a new place back home. You won't need to remember my name.”

“What happened to the old place?”

Jane glared. “What, you're the one kid in school who doesn't know?”

“...yes?” Andrew hated to admit it, but he did it anyway. Why not? She was leaving soon anyway. It didn't matter if she looked down at him. He was quiet when he got the courage to continue. “People don't talk to me unless they have to. I don't get gossip. All my friends are online.”

“And us, now!” Anny smiled at Andrew, trying to save the conversation. “We’re your friends.”

Andrew shook his head, still not quite believing this was really happening. “That easy, huh?”

“Is it supposed to be hard? I didn't know. Am I doing it wrong? How am I supposed to make friends? I usually just talk to people and tell them we're going to be friends, and then we're friends.” Her frown was adorable and cute, and Andrew and Jane both knew right then that they wanted to never see it again and would try to keep her happy.

“I don't have any, remember? I wouldn't know. I wish it were that easy for me.”

“Don't worry, Drewbles, you've got Anny now.” Jane smiled for the first time, just a little twitch. She had a rough time making friends, too. She was condescending, sarcastic, and not exactly bubbly.

“Andrew. People call me Andrew.”

“Your friends call you Drewbles, Drewbles.”

“No they don't.” Andrew frowned.

“How would you know, Drewbles? We're you're only friends.”

He sighed and took a bite of his sandwich, not sure how to come back on that one. For the entirety of her time in Las Vegas, Jane Smith was going to make his life a living hell. He could tell already.

~~~~~

Past-er

“With all due respect,” Lou ground out from clenched teeth, in a tone that clearly expressed she did not feel any respect was due, “I suggest that you go fuck yourself and get out of my way.”

Two shitty full duffel bags were in one hand, the zipper on one safety pinned shut. In her other hand was a small carry on sized suitcase with wheels. It was also ratty and shitty looking.

“If you step out of that door, you're not welcome back!” Lou's mother screamed, getting between her daughter and husband.

“Like I give a shit? Who the fuck would want to come back here?”

~~~~~

A month later, Lou was in Louisiana. She had sold most of the things from her suitcase and one of the duffle bags, keeping only her clothes, toiletries, and a small knife. She didn't make much money from it, but she didn't care. She made plenty of money sucking truckers’ dicks in exchange for rides, money, and food.

Lou had been dropped at a 7-11 and walked in with a pleasantly full wallet, wanting to get her growling stomach to shut up. Eating was an inconvenience, a necessary evil. It wasted her time. She had goals (get as far away from her father as possible), and she wasn't happy with any break from attaining those goals.

She stood at the line near the counter waiting to pay when the fight broke out. A big scary looking man with a leather vest and USMC tattoo on his arm was holding a small young guy around the throat and the arm. When Lou looked closer, she realized the young guy was holding a gun.

“Holy shit!” Lou reflexively kicked at the gun, sending it flying away from the fight. She scrambled after it and heard a nasty crack while her back was turned. She looked back, holding the gun in her hand. It felt light. She had expected it to be heavy. There was blood all over the counter, dripping from the smaller guy's head.

“You OK, kid?” The big man was holding the would-be robber against the counter, thumb pressing into the gunman's neck.

Lou nodded, and looked at the clerk. She was shaking, talking to 911. The girl looked green, and Lou couldn't tell if it was from seeing all the blood or from almost getting shot.

“I'm fine, and I'm not a kid. I'm just small.” It was a lie, but he didn't push her. “I think the gun's fake, anyway.” Lou scratched at it for a second, and cheap paint flaked off to reveal orange on the tip. “Little fucker tried to rob a store with a toy.”

“He's lucky we only kicked his ass, not snapped his neck. Pointing a fucking gun at people… Goddamn savage.”

“I'm Lou. Thanks for not letting him hypothetically shoot me.”

“CJ. No problem.” The scary thing was that Lou knew he was being entirely honest. No part of that had been a problem.

“Know any better places to eat around here, CJ? I'm hungry as hell and I think I lost my appetite, but maybe I'll stay around town a bit and eat later.”

“After the cops are done talking to us, we can go grab some chow.” CJ noticed her skin get even lighter, the scar on her cheek standing out vividly. She looked like a porcelain doll with a crack in it. “Don't like cops?”

“Battered woman. Cops make me nervous. They usually fail me.”

CJ ground the head of the robber into the counter a little, frowning. “I've known some women like that.” He sighed. “Nobody's gonna fuck with you while I'm here.”

Lou would later learn just how loaded that sigh was.

~~~~~

Lou was in the living room of a small apartment, and CJ was in the kitchen on the phone. He wasn't whispering, but his voice was quiet. She couldn't hear more than a few words, and his tone.

“Gun.” “Runaway.” “Tough.” “Hurt.”

It was a long few minutes that he was gone, and when he came back he didn't even have the Pepsi he'd offered her. She didn't point it out. “Thanks for bringing here and letting me crash. I didn't know where I was gonna stay tonight. Can I repay you somehow?” She loaded her question in precisely the perfect way that an experienced professional would - strong implications and plausible deniability, just in case.

“Not my speed, Tiny.” CJ didn't bother acting shocked by the offer. Nothing shocked him anymore. “I've got a friend coming by. Your stunt with that kick was impressive. Where'd you pick that up, martial arts?”

“Kicking dudes in the dick, actually.” Lou grinned at him.

“I'm even more impressed, and I think he's gonna be, too.”

~~~~~

She stood when he entered the room.

He was handsome. Black hair, perfect goatee, glacial blue eyes. His jaw looked like it was sculpted by a master, and his cheekbones were high. She couldn't find a flaw, unless one considered a vaguely smug face a flaw. “Jesus Christ, anyone ever tell you that you're a pretty man?”

“My wife seems to think so.” Even his smile was smug. “Please, sit. After all, fair is fair. I’m not standing for you.” He gestured to his wheelchair.

“Worst news I've heard all day.”

“Which part?”

“The wife part. Unless she’s hot, too.”

CJ flicked Lou on the arm. “Outta your league, Tiny.”

“That's not a thing, Porkchop. No man is out of my league.” It was Lou's turn to look smug.

“I was talking about his wife.” CJ looked to Sean. “I think you should hire her, Sean. She needs an honest living.” CJ didn't beat around the bush. “I'm pretty sure she's a runaway and she's selling herself.”

“Jesus, talk about slander. Couldn't have found a more subtle way to put that?”

CJ turned slowly, and looked Lou dead in the eye. “I think she's a child prostitute.” He turned back to Sean. “And I think that's probably better than whatever it is she left.”

Sean closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his index finger. “Lou, is it going to be a problem for me if I help you?”

“Nobody's gonna miss me and say you kidnapped me, if that's what you’re asking.” She paused and added, “And I'm not a kid.”

“Get faster at that lie. It could be the difference between being shipped off back to where you came from, and being free.” Sean wasn't one to care about legality, as long as it didn't hurt him. “Do you have any skills?”

“Nothing you would hire me for without moral problems.”

“Education?”

“Not much.”

CJ interrupted. “You've hired worse.”

“I want her to finish school first. If she's as young as I think she is, she'll need it.” He was not pleased at the idea of letting a young person go through life without even a rudimentary education.

“Gonna get my transcript? How's that gonna go for you?”

Lou had a point. Sean hated that. “You will study. You will learn. You will take your GED test when you can. I will employ you as my assistant until you get on your feet and choose what you'd rather do.”

“What about Cynthia?”

“She just got a promotion. CJ, you're going to need to watch her, at least for the night. I've got to talk to Cynthia. And Anny. I like this one, but no more stray girls after her. Two is plenty.”

“I can't help it, man. They find me, I don't find them.”

“Do me a favor. Never talk to another girl again.”

Sean would find the third stray without CJ's help.

~~~~~

Recently

Cynthia Marx (never Boden - thank god for small favors) stood in her office at Purgatory, looking at the desk that Sean had loved. She frowned. It was beautiful. Truly, it was a work of art. Sean had an eye for beauty, and loved to surround himself with lovely, elegant things.

That included her.

She remembered sitting on his lap in front of that desk, teasing him about “working hard” while she shifted her hips ever so slightly to point out an application she thought looked promising. She remembered how when it was time for lunch, Sean always cleared his desk entirely first, insisting that everything be filed away so he'd come back to a clear surface. She remembered how that always seemed like an ulterior motive to her, because he had ravished her on that strong hard mahogany countless times.

She almost smiled when she reached over to touch the desk. She almost allowed her memories to be pleasant. Cynthia's sleeve betrayed her. The stretch of her arm pulled the sleeve higher, and she saw one of the many cigarette burns he had left.

She recoiled as if she had been burned anew.

~~~~~

“I want it gone, Ryan.”

She stood in the doorway of her office, looking out.

“What's the problem, Cyn?”

Cynthia looked up, the look on her face and in her eyes firm. She would brook no argument. Ryan Cuddihy, one of Cynthia's oldest friends, knew she had been crying. Cynthia only ever cried over Sean.

“Everything. I want his desk gone. His chair. His shelves. Everything mahogany and everything Japanese and every leather bound fucking book. Put it in storage. Sell it all. You know what? Make a bunch of money. Some of this is worth a small fortune. Send half the money to Jane, and give half to Anny. They should get something out of him. I want my office to be empty on Monday.” Her voice was low. “And this fucking tattoo on my arm is leaving.”

“Want me to cover it up?”

“No, Ryan, I'm getting it removed. It needs to be gone entirely. I need to get his ghost out of my life. Maybe I can move forward when he's done haunting me.”

“I know it's not my place to ask-”

“It's always your place, Ryan.”

Ryan took a breath, and pushed forward. “Are you gonna try to get the burn marks removed?”

“No. Never. I never want to forget that love isn't cruelty. I never want to forget that love doesn't hurt, doesn't burn, doesn't scar you without permission. I never want to let my guard down and get tricked into letting him back in.”

“Alright, take my office for the rest of the day. I’ll take care of everything.”

Cynthia smiled, reaching up to pet his beard. She tugged a little, pulling him down to kiss him on the cheek. “I knew I could count on you.”

~~~~~

More Recently

Jane and Lou sat on the couch in their apartment.

“Wasn't Chyna, like, really young?” Jane looked down at her lap and started picking at her fingernails. She was obviously scared.

Lou nodded, looking into space. “Mid forties.”

They didn't move. They didn't speak for a long moment. Tony, their gigantic floof dog, sat in between them and whined. He could tell they were sad.

“What if Cyn, or Ains-” Jane's hands shook. “What if-”

“Shut up. Don't say that. I don't want to think about it. Ainsley retired for a reason, three damn good reasons. Cyn doesn't wrestle anymore. They're gonna be fine.”

“I'm scared, Lou. God, it's my whole family. Everyone. Everyone I love. This business already killed Sean. Who's next? What if it's you? I couldn't handle that, Lou, I couldn't do it.”

Lou stopped looking into nothing long enough to see that Jane was crying, tears dropping onto her hands and lap. Lou reached over Tony, rubbing Jane's back. “It's OK. We'll be OK. I promise, Jane, I swear. We won't be like-”

Jane's voice sounded dead. “-everyone else?”

~~~~~

(Jane Doe sat in front of the black background. She was alone. Her braid was out, uncharacteristically, with her brown hair flowing down behind her untamed. She was wearing a “9th Wonder of the World” T-shirt, old and ratty, with holes in it. It had been Cynthia’s, but she had given it to Jane as a sleep shirt some time ago. It seemed fitting.)

Jane Doe: Maya. I don’t know how you do it.

We have a lot in common, y’know. We’ve both lost a lot. People we love. People we care about. People we thought would always be there.

They’re not.

I mean, yes, Shinya’s around. Just like, quite possibly, Sean Boden is out there, somewhere, watching me from some hellhole in Bumfuck, Middle-of-Nowhere.

But let’s face it. Both of those people are dead. In Shinya’s case, an empty, angry shell has taken his place.

In Sean’s, it’s just empty.

I know what it’s like to lose family to nature. I lost my dad to Katrina. He was so stupid… he refused to evacuate. “Oh, we’ve had hurricanes before. This ain’t nothin’,” he said. He didn’t count on the levees breaking.

Nobody did, really.

It’s the worst thing ever.

I’m not happy with Jared right now, Maya. I want you to know that. I don’t approve of what he’s done, and I don’t approve of what he’s doing. This arms race to one-up CJ… it’s pointless.

But I can tell you that, even now, he still counts you as a friend. He’s not going to get involved in this match.

I know we can’t say the same about Shinya, but we’ll cross that bridge when it comes to us.

And yet, all this time, Maya, through all of the hate, and pain, and darkness, you’ve always been that one shining ray of hope. You’ve never flagged. You’ve always been the optimist.

And that’s where we differ. I lost hope a long time ago, Maya. I lost hope when I was 8 years old. It’s hard to come back from that. I lost my father during Katrina. I lost my mother soon after when she gave me up to try to make a better life for me. I lost my surrogate father 5 years ago when Sean just… walked away into the night, never to be seen again. I’d make the joke that he went out for cigarettes, if I was feeling even remotely funny right now.

And in October, I almost lost CJ. He was never going to stay in the EWA. He knew it. We rented an apartment in Boston, but he got a hotel room. He had a flight back to Vegas three days later.

I couldn’t do it, Maya. I couldn’t watch another person in my life abandon me.

So we forced him out instead.

Is there a moment that I don’t regret that? Not really. But it’s done, and I still feel like it was better than the alternative.

I guess where I’m going with this, Maya, is that no, we’re not going to have the match of the night. As much as I want to, I don’t have your hope. We’re not going to blow the roof off the place. Maybe Shinya will come down. Maybe he won’t.

But I’m going to do everything I can to eliminate any hope you have of advancing. That much is certain.

My only hope, Maya, is that you can move on when it’s over.

(Fade to black.)
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