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rainbowfic2012-05-31 12:30 am
bookblather) wrote in rainbowfic2012-05-31 12:30 am
Halloween Orange, Eton Blue 16: In a Den of Thieves
Author: Kat
Title: In a Den of Thieves
Story: Huge Scary New Story
Colors: Halloween orange saturation, Eton blue 16 (term paper).
Supplies and Materials: Miniature collection, canvas, acrylic (Bury all your secrets in my skin/Come away with innocence, and leave me with my sins -Snuff; Slipknot), oils (crawling all over), pastels (one-night stand), fabric (this image), modeling clay (champion), chalk (reaching for a prize), glitter ("Life is difficult and complicated and beyond anyone's total control, and the humility to know that will enable you to survive its vicissitudes." – J.K. Rowling), novelty beads ("Chased down all my demons, see you do the same" -- "Fuckin' Perfect" by Pink).
Word Count: 3000.
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: The Hennessy children.
Warnings: Racism, classism, sexism, violence, depiction of depression, underage sex.
Notes: This seriously needs an actual story title. Suggestions welcome.
27. I was a little more than they expected.
No one really knew what to do with Miranda.
It was an odd and sometimes hilarious pastime, watching people try to fit her in. Her father's family ignored her because of her mama, her mama's family was uncomfortable because of her father, and all of them thought her uncannily intelligent. Even her parents were a little bewildered by her.
She liked that. She liked the looks of surprised pride on her parents' faces, the awed eyes her little sister and brother made. She liked being smart, even if it was isolating.
Her family loved her. That was all that mattered.
28. It’s a shot of ‘dumb idea’ with a ‘bad plan’ chaser.
He hurt her little sister.
Sure, he fucked and dumped her too, but Miranda could take that-- that was her own fault, deciding to date the bastard in the first place. And Jack... he was only fourteen, but apparently already old enough in the ways of sex to not give a damn for anything but pleasure in the act. But Charlotte was an idealist, and he made her believe he wanted her, not some sordid bragging rights.
Her sister was a child, and Andrew Dalton took that childhood.
She'd have cut his brakes if she hadn't thought she'd get caught.
1. It's just 'til my evil plan comes into flower.
Miranda always had a plan.
The man across the table from her didn't know that. He thought her an airhead, examining her nails while he read over the contract he was about to sign. She'd been careful with him, dangling designer heels off her toes, twirling her hair when he talked, rolling her eyes when he got technical. He thought her stupid.
He was so busy smirking at her, he didn't read carefully enough.
She accepted the contract he slid across the table to her, smiled sweetly at him.
She couldn't wait until he learned just how wrong he was.
9. When there's no redemption to be found, there are still a few who'll hold their ground.
People said she didn't have a conscience, but she did, it was just... different. She saw nothing wrong with, for example, seriously injuring the scumbag who taken advantage of her sister, or taking someone who underestimated her for all he (always a he) was worth. She had no illusions about her work, either-- she did terrible things sometimes. They all did. It was the game.
But she never took someone's life, livelihood, or lover. Unlike some of her colleagues, she never let herself forget there were people behind the machinations.
She knew too clearly what she'd lose if she did.
14. Do you follow it because it's true, or just because you must?
No one outside her family knew it, but Miranda needed control like air.
Oh, sure, her coworkers and underlings thought they knew it, as if her anal-retentive, occasionally overbearing, always terrifying bossiness was all there was to her. They'd never seen her on a date, avoiding touch, or in bed, restrained even there. They'd never seen her wrestle emotion until she was certain-- certain-- she'd won.
It was a matter of trust, or lack thereof, lies and smiles and secrets in the tabloids, sharp lessons she only needed once.
She smiled all the time, but she almost never meant it.
29. I find relationships so often are an awful bore.
It was a sad fact that all of Miranda's boyfriends had been using her, in one way or another.
Most of the time she didn't mind because she was using them too, for sex or appearances or simple company. Once or twice she'd had corporate spies, hoping to glean something from pillow talk-- she'd fucked them, then dumped them without explanation, and never let the hurt show. She knew not to give them ammunition.
She stopped dating eventually, in favor of one-night stands, against the wall or on the floor. She never took them home.
It was easier that way.
19. I am nothing you should trust.
She didn't understand why he trusted her.
It made no sense. No one trusted her-- no one who wasn't related to her, at any rate, and damned few of them. He should think of her the way everyone else did, as a canny businesswoman and a wickedly sharp lawyer, eagle-eyed and brilliant, and useful in her own way, but never, ever a wall to put your back against. Never, ever to be trusted.
He looked up at her now as he handed over the papers, smiling guilelessly, so naïve, and...
And he trusted her.
She could not let him down.
24. I can’t promise to obey you, I can’t swear I won’t betray you.
She would have given him everything, if she had thought it would be enough.
She tried to make him see what a stupid idea it was, trusting her. Even to her the idea was painfully hilarious. But he did it anyway, looked at her with a smile in his eyes, like he thought better of her than she ever could be.
She knew herself. She knew, without shame, who she was. She knew what he'd come to think of her, when the first bloom was gone. So she did what she had to, to save them both.
She cried, after.
23. There are laws we must obey, certain ways this story goes.
She was walking out of the building, turned to laugh at something her coworker said, and felt the knife in her ribs, hot and tearing.
The man was saying something, the man who stabbed her, and she couldn't hear it, could hear nothing but a fuzzy static in her ears and a faint shouting. Someone caught her and she realized only then that her knees had buckled at the feel of her own blood hot and sticky on her hands.
It was always going to happen this way. She always knew that.
She hoped her siblings could manage, without her.
30. Be wicked and lovely and don't live in fear.
Miranda Elena Hennessy was a name with much power. The meanings: "she who must be admired," "the bright one." Hennessy carried its own set of meanings: wealth and power, strength and mystery. Her heritage, her languages, English and Spanish all encoded in her name.
Helen of Troy, Shakespeare's Miranda, a dangerous beauty, a father's apt pupil. She was named more truly than her parents ever knew. Sister and daughter, inextricably entangled in her family, she held her head high, and never did fear pride.
She was never ashamed of who she was.
She wondered how many people could say that.
18. All I long for is to roam -- must this be my only home?
She never felt like she belonged anywhere, as a child. Well, that wasn't strictly true-- whenever it was just her and her family, she fit perfectly, sister and daughter, the middle sibling keeping the peace, the sweet and intelligent daughter beloved of both parents.
But that was home. Outside that charmed circle she lost something unnamable, became shy and withdrawn. Every time someone looked between her and her siblings, disbelieving, she shrank a little more. Every time someone at a party mentioned her, she wished for invisibility.
It was a lovely childhood in some ways, and in others, inexpressibly hard.
13. Guard your eggshell heart, for the moon tells lies.
She believed Andrew when he said that he loved her.
She told her siblings that, but it's what she didn't tell them that cut-- she was a virgin. It hurt and he didn't care, just grunted over her until he came, then rolled off her and told her to get out. Like she was nothing.
She couldn't tell Jack, because he was her brother, and she could not tell Miranda, because there was something cold in her sister, and she honestly believed Miranda would kill him, if she knew.
She didn't want him dead.
She just wanted it all gone.
5. An island's not a prison -- that's what men make bridges for.
In high school her classmates avoided her, especially after Andrew. Charlotte couldn't really blame them. Miranda and Jack had really done a number on him-- not that she could bring herself to pity Andrew, not after-- and they probably didn't want to deal with her siblings on top of the Hennessy factor. But in college...
Hennessy wasn't an unknown last name, but in college they gave her a chance. Her roommate was from England and hadn't heard of her family; her other friends were just indifferent. For the first time in her life, she was ordinary.
It felt like flying.
25. No one gets to tell me if I've lost or if I've won.
Jackson got it, Charlotte thought. Miranda couldn’t seem to get her head around "living on my own terms," and neither could their parents. Her father was almost plaintive when he asked if he could still give her presents.
But Jack got it. Something about being pansexual, she thought, or maybe mentally ill. He lived with stigma too. He knew what it was like to feel trapped, even if they fought different nets.
They all wanted the best for her. Jack just accepted her definition of "best."
When she told him what she was doing, he smiled, and wished her luck.
3. Nothing in my pocket but a hand and a prayer.
The entire apartment was smaller than her childhood bedroom, with a microscopic kitchen and a barely-there bathroom. The carpet was dingy and stained, the windows sorely in need of a good washing. The furniture was decent, at least, but all secondhand, purchased at yard sales and consignment shops. It was all she could afford on a teacher's salary, this and food and student loans, this tiny studio apartment that smelled like greasy pizza day and night, far from her family and everyone who'd ever known her.
Charlotte loved every inch of the filthy, dangerous place.
She'd never felt more free.
26. Though I’m somewhere off the beaten track, that’s no guarantee that I won’t come back.
For a year after she moved out, she didn't see her family.
They weren't estranged. She talked to them all the time, she just didn't see them. She enjoyed her new independence, but she missed them.
Then Miranda showed up on Charlotte's doorstep to take her out to dinner. Three weeks later, her parents arranged to stay a day longer in Atlanta, so they could see her. Jack dropped by when he felt like it or was bored, which was often.
She needed to be on her own, she knew, but it was nice to know home was still there.
22. Don't be chosen; make the choice to choose.
Miranda and Jack had no problem approaching people, but Charlotte couldn't. It wasn't snobbery, but fear-- she saw them looking, and her childhood resurfaced and fear choked her voice. She let men come to her, when they came at all.
Daniel was the first one she ever chose.
It was his smile, and his hands, and the way the muscles in his arms moved when he showed a kid how to pitch a ball. It was the kindness in his voice, the genuine interest when they talked.
She was so proud of herself when she managed to ask him out.
4. Blood burns like fire, and it always burns through.
She was with Daniel when her phone buzzed and the text came through: We're coming to get you. Dad.
"My father," she told Daniel. "He's not usually so terse."
"Did something happen?" Daniel asked.
He said more, but she didn't hear it, because the radio was on and something had happened and she couldn't breathe as a bored DJ announced that earlier that day Miranda Hennessy had been stabbed outside her Los Angeles office and was in critical condition at a nearby hospital.
Daniel was exclaiming, holding her up, his grip tight on her arm, and she still couldn't breathe.
11. The past is a road where the bus doesn't run, and there's no station called "Yesterday."
He waited, at least, until the worst was over to tell her he didn't want to see her anymore.
It hurt so much, but she knew why he did it, and she understood. She was a Hennessy, a rich man's daughter, and if she used her mother's maiden name and lived only on her salary, that just made it worse, because she'd been lying to him the whole time. She wouldn't have done the same, but she understood, and that made it hurt more.
She didn't cry in front of her family, at least.
They had enough to worry about.
8. Our roads may be golden, or broken, or lost, but we'll walk on them willingly, knowing the cost.
Her life made her brave. It was almost an accident.
Almost, because she could not believe that there was anything accidental about the way she was treated compared with her light-skinned siblings. Nor was her parents' fierce protection accidental. Her mother teaching her Spanish swear words, her father telling her she was amazing, wicked and lovely Miranda leading by example, Jackson loving her with all his expansive heart, no, none of that was an accident.
She chose the path she walked. She'd chosen it with her eyes open.
She'd chosen it.
There was more courage in that than she knew.
12. Some little things get broken, and a little means a lot.
For the longest time, Jack thought his grandmother was made of ice.
Not his abuela. Abuela was warm and round and happy, gave great hugs, spoke rapid Spanish and taught him to make paella. His grandmother insisted on being addressed as Grandmother Hennessy, spoke very formal English, and never taught him anything at all.
He gathered she thought she was doing them a favor, telling them the truth about what the world would think. But her world wasn't theirs, and he didn't believe what she said.
The day he caught her yelling at Charlotte for speaking Spanish only reinforced that.
16. There’s no way to run or hide when the thing you fear’s inside.
It was in his own head, this thing.
Sometimes he envied his sisters. Not that their lives were easy-- Miranda, trying so hard to live up to their parents that she turned off her life; Charlotte, a brown-skinned girl in a white-skinned world-- but their pains, their oppressions came from outside. His came from his own mind, a sneaking evil that picked at everything he did, found the loose threads of his life and pulled until everything unraveled.
Demons lived in his head and he couldn't tell his family; they'd only worry.
The last thing he wanted was their worry.
17. I think you'll find the line is fine between the saint and sinner.
It depended on how you defined virginity, but Jack hadn't been once since he was thirteen.
He looked older, which helped, and he got a thorough education in sex and sexual practices from his father and, later, judicious research. He'd been jacking off since he was twelve, but he didn't count that. It's only when he started involving other people that it counted.
He didn't wish that he'd waited. Sex was fun. He always consented and got consent. He was always careful, always safe.
He did wish sometimes for a little more connection. But that was a flaw in him.
21. While he just might tell you stories, he won't ever tell you lies.
Honesty was the key. When someone asked Jack what he wanted, he told the truth: a good time. Sex, a date or two, maybe a round of laser tag; he didn't care as long as he had fun, as long as he got out of his head.
That was the one thing he never talked about, the demon in his mind. He didn't lie about it, he just didn't talk about it. He partied with his friends, got drunk, played hard and worked hard and usually managed to shut it up.
He never lied. He could be proud of that.
10. You can't unmake your own mistakes.
He did wrong by Samantha. He didn't deny that.
He didn't make her fall in love with him. He didn't lie to her either; he never lied to his partners, ever, and he never pretended he wanted something more than he did. But Samantha... was delicate, he knew that, because she was like him.
He was as gentle with her as he could, but he still broke her heart.
He confined himself to people who understood, after he left Samantha. Already committed people in open relationships, friends looking for a good time.
Nothing was worth the look in Samantha's eyes.
2. I'm all alone, and I think someone left me.
The three months he spent without Felix were the worst of his life.
It didn't help that Charlotte was incommunicado, and Miranda was having some romantic trouble that she wouldn't talk about. And Felix, his best friend, was somewhere in the great unknown, clearing his head, or whatever he was doing.
Jack couldn't remember because that conversation was when he'd realized he was in love with Felix.
He wasn't going to try anything. He was a fuckup, clear and clean, and he couldn't live without Felix. As long as Felix came back, they'd be okay.
If he'd just come back.
6. By the time you see the patterns, it's a hundred times too late.
He gave himself away, piece by piece, and he never saw it happening.
Felix did. Felix tried to warn him. It wasn't the lifestyle, Felix said, it was the way he cared, the intense insistence on caring about everyone he'd ever met. It was because of Samantha, Felix thought, but Jack thought it went back further, to Charlotte curled up and crying in her room because somebody called her a spic. He knew how it felt to hurt. He tried to make it so others didn't hurt.
Felix said he couldn't keep it up.
Jack didn't know how to stop.
7. In mercy's shadow, nothing grows.
There were bad days. Those days, nothing helped. He tried everything-- frenetic action, alcohol, hiding under the covers, and nothing helped.
He felt awful about it. His life was honestly pretty good. He was male, passing for straight and white, pretty close to irreligious, with a tight circle of friends and family. what did he have to worry about? His sisters, his cousins, they had so many more problems.
He knew objectively that it wasn't him, that it was the demon in his head. He knew none of this was his fault. He knew all of that.
It didn't help.
15. A moment and my simple, careless plans were all unmade.
He was sitting at a bar watching Felix flirt with a hot bald guy when they called.
It didn't make sense, at first. Miranda couldn't be hurt, not her, not Miranda the cautious, who only took risks in business. Charlotte might try to help the wrong person, or he might saunter whistling into danger, but Miranda would never be hurt.
Critical condition, they said, and that was wrong too, because Miranda was never in critical condition. Miranda was always collected, always in control.
Miranda was...
Felix had to drive him to the hospital. He was crying too hard to see.
20. Don't think I've ever been betrayed, for that was never true.
Jack had a demon in his head. But he also had sisters, beautiful, smart, warm and loving sisters. He had parents who loved him, who trusted him to go his own way, who never said word one about the way he lived his life. He had Felix, who was... Felix, unbelievable. He had friends who stuck with him, through thick and thin. He had a job he liked. He had a life.
It hurt sometimes. Everything did. He suffered, because everyone did. He had a demon, but he also had a life.
It was a balancing act. But it worked.
Title: In a Den of Thieves
Story: Huge Scary New Story
Colors: Halloween orange saturation, Eton blue 16 (term paper).
Supplies and Materials: Miniature collection, canvas, acrylic (Bury all your secrets in my skin/Come away with innocence, and leave me with my sins -Snuff; Slipknot), oils (crawling all over), pastels (one-night stand), fabric (this image), modeling clay (champion), chalk (reaching for a prize), glitter ("Life is difficult and complicated and beyond anyone's total control, and the humility to know that will enable you to survive its vicissitudes." – J.K. Rowling), novelty beads ("Chased down all my demons, see you do the same" -- "Fuckin' Perfect" by Pink).
Word Count: 3000.
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: The Hennessy children.
Warnings: Racism, classism, sexism, violence, depiction of depression, underage sex.
Notes: This seriously needs an actual story title. Suggestions welcome.
27. I was a little more than they expected.
No one really knew what to do with Miranda.
It was an odd and sometimes hilarious pastime, watching people try to fit her in. Her father's family ignored her because of her mama, her mama's family was uncomfortable because of her father, and all of them thought her uncannily intelligent. Even her parents were a little bewildered by her.
She liked that. She liked the looks of surprised pride on her parents' faces, the awed eyes her little sister and brother made. She liked being smart, even if it was isolating.
Her family loved her. That was all that mattered.
28. It’s a shot of ‘dumb idea’ with a ‘bad plan’ chaser.
He hurt her little sister.
Sure, he fucked and dumped her too, but Miranda could take that-- that was her own fault, deciding to date the bastard in the first place. And Jack... he was only fourteen, but apparently already old enough in the ways of sex to not give a damn for anything but pleasure in the act. But Charlotte was an idealist, and he made her believe he wanted her, not some sordid bragging rights.
Her sister was a child, and Andrew Dalton took that childhood.
She'd have cut his brakes if she hadn't thought she'd get caught.
1. It's just 'til my evil plan comes into flower.
Miranda always had a plan.
The man across the table from her didn't know that. He thought her an airhead, examining her nails while he read over the contract he was about to sign. She'd been careful with him, dangling designer heels off her toes, twirling her hair when he talked, rolling her eyes when he got technical. He thought her stupid.
He was so busy smirking at her, he didn't read carefully enough.
She accepted the contract he slid across the table to her, smiled sweetly at him.
She couldn't wait until he learned just how wrong he was.
9. When there's no redemption to be found, there are still a few who'll hold their ground.
People said she didn't have a conscience, but she did, it was just... different. She saw nothing wrong with, for example, seriously injuring the scumbag who taken advantage of her sister, or taking someone who underestimated her for all he (always a he) was worth. She had no illusions about her work, either-- she did terrible things sometimes. They all did. It was the game.
But she never took someone's life, livelihood, or lover. Unlike some of her colleagues, she never let herself forget there were people behind the machinations.
She knew too clearly what she'd lose if she did.
14. Do you follow it because it's true, or just because you must?
No one outside her family knew it, but Miranda needed control like air.
Oh, sure, her coworkers and underlings thought they knew it, as if her anal-retentive, occasionally overbearing, always terrifying bossiness was all there was to her. They'd never seen her on a date, avoiding touch, or in bed, restrained even there. They'd never seen her wrestle emotion until she was certain-- certain-- she'd won.
It was a matter of trust, or lack thereof, lies and smiles and secrets in the tabloids, sharp lessons she only needed once.
She smiled all the time, but she almost never meant it.
29. I find relationships so often are an awful bore.
It was a sad fact that all of Miranda's boyfriends had been using her, in one way or another.
Most of the time she didn't mind because she was using them too, for sex or appearances or simple company. Once or twice she'd had corporate spies, hoping to glean something from pillow talk-- she'd fucked them, then dumped them without explanation, and never let the hurt show. She knew not to give them ammunition.
She stopped dating eventually, in favor of one-night stands, against the wall or on the floor. She never took them home.
It was easier that way.
19. I am nothing you should trust.
She didn't understand why he trusted her.
It made no sense. No one trusted her-- no one who wasn't related to her, at any rate, and damned few of them. He should think of her the way everyone else did, as a canny businesswoman and a wickedly sharp lawyer, eagle-eyed and brilliant, and useful in her own way, but never, ever a wall to put your back against. Never, ever to be trusted.
He looked up at her now as he handed over the papers, smiling guilelessly, so naïve, and...
And he trusted her.
She could not let him down.
24. I can’t promise to obey you, I can’t swear I won’t betray you.
She would have given him everything, if she had thought it would be enough.
She tried to make him see what a stupid idea it was, trusting her. Even to her the idea was painfully hilarious. But he did it anyway, looked at her with a smile in his eyes, like he thought better of her than she ever could be.
She knew herself. She knew, without shame, who she was. She knew what he'd come to think of her, when the first bloom was gone. So she did what she had to, to save them both.
She cried, after.
23. There are laws we must obey, certain ways this story goes.
She was walking out of the building, turned to laugh at something her coworker said, and felt the knife in her ribs, hot and tearing.
The man was saying something, the man who stabbed her, and she couldn't hear it, could hear nothing but a fuzzy static in her ears and a faint shouting. Someone caught her and she realized only then that her knees had buckled at the feel of her own blood hot and sticky on her hands.
It was always going to happen this way. She always knew that.
She hoped her siblings could manage, without her.
30. Be wicked and lovely and don't live in fear.
Miranda Elena Hennessy was a name with much power. The meanings: "she who must be admired," "the bright one." Hennessy carried its own set of meanings: wealth and power, strength and mystery. Her heritage, her languages, English and Spanish all encoded in her name.
Helen of Troy, Shakespeare's Miranda, a dangerous beauty, a father's apt pupil. She was named more truly than her parents ever knew. Sister and daughter, inextricably entangled in her family, she held her head high, and never did fear pride.
She was never ashamed of who she was.
She wondered how many people could say that.
18. All I long for is to roam -- must this be my only home?
She never felt like she belonged anywhere, as a child. Well, that wasn't strictly true-- whenever it was just her and her family, she fit perfectly, sister and daughter, the middle sibling keeping the peace, the sweet and intelligent daughter beloved of both parents.
But that was home. Outside that charmed circle she lost something unnamable, became shy and withdrawn. Every time someone looked between her and her siblings, disbelieving, she shrank a little more. Every time someone at a party mentioned her, she wished for invisibility.
It was a lovely childhood in some ways, and in others, inexpressibly hard.
13. Guard your eggshell heart, for the moon tells lies.
She believed Andrew when he said that he loved her.
She told her siblings that, but it's what she didn't tell them that cut-- she was a virgin. It hurt and he didn't care, just grunted over her until he came, then rolled off her and told her to get out. Like she was nothing.
She couldn't tell Jack, because he was her brother, and she could not tell Miranda, because there was something cold in her sister, and she honestly believed Miranda would kill him, if she knew.
She didn't want him dead.
She just wanted it all gone.
5. An island's not a prison -- that's what men make bridges for.
In high school her classmates avoided her, especially after Andrew. Charlotte couldn't really blame them. Miranda and Jack had really done a number on him-- not that she could bring herself to pity Andrew, not after-- and they probably didn't want to deal with her siblings on top of the Hennessy factor. But in college...
Hennessy wasn't an unknown last name, but in college they gave her a chance. Her roommate was from England and hadn't heard of her family; her other friends were just indifferent. For the first time in her life, she was ordinary.
It felt like flying.
25. No one gets to tell me if I've lost or if I've won.
Jackson got it, Charlotte thought. Miranda couldn’t seem to get her head around "living on my own terms," and neither could their parents. Her father was almost plaintive when he asked if he could still give her presents.
But Jack got it. Something about being pansexual, she thought, or maybe mentally ill. He lived with stigma too. He knew what it was like to feel trapped, even if they fought different nets.
They all wanted the best for her. Jack just accepted her definition of "best."
When she told him what she was doing, he smiled, and wished her luck.
3. Nothing in my pocket but a hand and a prayer.
The entire apartment was smaller than her childhood bedroom, with a microscopic kitchen and a barely-there bathroom. The carpet was dingy and stained, the windows sorely in need of a good washing. The furniture was decent, at least, but all secondhand, purchased at yard sales and consignment shops. It was all she could afford on a teacher's salary, this and food and student loans, this tiny studio apartment that smelled like greasy pizza day and night, far from her family and everyone who'd ever known her.
Charlotte loved every inch of the filthy, dangerous place.
She'd never felt more free.
26. Though I’m somewhere off the beaten track, that’s no guarantee that I won’t come back.
For a year after she moved out, she didn't see her family.
They weren't estranged. She talked to them all the time, she just didn't see them. She enjoyed her new independence, but she missed them.
Then Miranda showed up on Charlotte's doorstep to take her out to dinner. Three weeks later, her parents arranged to stay a day longer in Atlanta, so they could see her. Jack dropped by when he felt like it or was bored, which was often.
She needed to be on her own, she knew, but it was nice to know home was still there.
22. Don't be chosen; make the choice to choose.
Miranda and Jack had no problem approaching people, but Charlotte couldn't. It wasn't snobbery, but fear-- she saw them looking, and her childhood resurfaced and fear choked her voice. She let men come to her, when they came at all.
Daniel was the first one she ever chose.
It was his smile, and his hands, and the way the muscles in his arms moved when he showed a kid how to pitch a ball. It was the kindness in his voice, the genuine interest when they talked.
She was so proud of herself when she managed to ask him out.
4. Blood burns like fire, and it always burns through.
She was with Daniel when her phone buzzed and the text came through: We're coming to get you. Dad.
"My father," she told Daniel. "He's not usually so terse."
"Did something happen?" Daniel asked.
He said more, but she didn't hear it, because the radio was on and something had happened and she couldn't breathe as a bored DJ announced that earlier that day Miranda Hennessy had been stabbed outside her Los Angeles office and was in critical condition at a nearby hospital.
Daniel was exclaiming, holding her up, his grip tight on her arm, and she still couldn't breathe.
11. The past is a road where the bus doesn't run, and there's no station called "Yesterday."
He waited, at least, until the worst was over to tell her he didn't want to see her anymore.
It hurt so much, but she knew why he did it, and she understood. She was a Hennessy, a rich man's daughter, and if she used her mother's maiden name and lived only on her salary, that just made it worse, because she'd been lying to him the whole time. She wouldn't have done the same, but she understood, and that made it hurt more.
She didn't cry in front of her family, at least.
They had enough to worry about.
8. Our roads may be golden, or broken, or lost, but we'll walk on them willingly, knowing the cost.
Her life made her brave. It was almost an accident.
Almost, because she could not believe that there was anything accidental about the way she was treated compared with her light-skinned siblings. Nor was her parents' fierce protection accidental. Her mother teaching her Spanish swear words, her father telling her she was amazing, wicked and lovely Miranda leading by example, Jackson loving her with all his expansive heart, no, none of that was an accident.
She chose the path she walked. She'd chosen it with her eyes open.
She'd chosen it.
There was more courage in that than she knew.
12. Some little things get broken, and a little means a lot.
For the longest time, Jack thought his grandmother was made of ice.
Not his abuela. Abuela was warm and round and happy, gave great hugs, spoke rapid Spanish and taught him to make paella. His grandmother insisted on being addressed as Grandmother Hennessy, spoke very formal English, and never taught him anything at all.
He gathered she thought she was doing them a favor, telling them the truth about what the world would think. But her world wasn't theirs, and he didn't believe what she said.
The day he caught her yelling at Charlotte for speaking Spanish only reinforced that.
16. There’s no way to run or hide when the thing you fear’s inside.
It was in his own head, this thing.
Sometimes he envied his sisters. Not that their lives were easy-- Miranda, trying so hard to live up to their parents that she turned off her life; Charlotte, a brown-skinned girl in a white-skinned world-- but their pains, their oppressions came from outside. His came from his own mind, a sneaking evil that picked at everything he did, found the loose threads of his life and pulled until everything unraveled.
Demons lived in his head and he couldn't tell his family; they'd only worry.
The last thing he wanted was their worry.
17. I think you'll find the line is fine between the saint and sinner.
It depended on how you defined virginity, but Jack hadn't been once since he was thirteen.
He looked older, which helped, and he got a thorough education in sex and sexual practices from his father and, later, judicious research. He'd been jacking off since he was twelve, but he didn't count that. It's only when he started involving other people that it counted.
He didn't wish that he'd waited. Sex was fun. He always consented and got consent. He was always careful, always safe.
He did wish sometimes for a little more connection. But that was a flaw in him.
21. While he just might tell you stories, he won't ever tell you lies.
Honesty was the key. When someone asked Jack what he wanted, he told the truth: a good time. Sex, a date or two, maybe a round of laser tag; he didn't care as long as he had fun, as long as he got out of his head.
That was the one thing he never talked about, the demon in his mind. He didn't lie about it, he just didn't talk about it. He partied with his friends, got drunk, played hard and worked hard and usually managed to shut it up.
He never lied. He could be proud of that.
10. You can't unmake your own mistakes.
He did wrong by Samantha. He didn't deny that.
He didn't make her fall in love with him. He didn't lie to her either; he never lied to his partners, ever, and he never pretended he wanted something more than he did. But Samantha... was delicate, he knew that, because she was like him.
He was as gentle with her as he could, but he still broke her heart.
He confined himself to people who understood, after he left Samantha. Already committed people in open relationships, friends looking for a good time.
Nothing was worth the look in Samantha's eyes.
2. I'm all alone, and I think someone left me.
The three months he spent without Felix were the worst of his life.
It didn't help that Charlotte was incommunicado, and Miranda was having some romantic trouble that she wouldn't talk about. And Felix, his best friend, was somewhere in the great unknown, clearing his head, or whatever he was doing.
Jack couldn't remember because that conversation was when he'd realized he was in love with Felix.
He wasn't going to try anything. He was a fuckup, clear and clean, and he couldn't live without Felix. As long as Felix came back, they'd be okay.
If he'd just come back.
6. By the time you see the patterns, it's a hundred times too late.
He gave himself away, piece by piece, and he never saw it happening.
Felix did. Felix tried to warn him. It wasn't the lifestyle, Felix said, it was the way he cared, the intense insistence on caring about everyone he'd ever met. It was because of Samantha, Felix thought, but Jack thought it went back further, to Charlotte curled up and crying in her room because somebody called her a spic. He knew how it felt to hurt. He tried to make it so others didn't hurt.
Felix said he couldn't keep it up.
Jack didn't know how to stop.
7. In mercy's shadow, nothing grows.
There were bad days. Those days, nothing helped. He tried everything-- frenetic action, alcohol, hiding under the covers, and nothing helped.
He felt awful about it. His life was honestly pretty good. He was male, passing for straight and white, pretty close to irreligious, with a tight circle of friends and family. what did he have to worry about? His sisters, his cousins, they had so many more problems.
He knew objectively that it wasn't him, that it was the demon in his head. He knew none of this was his fault. He knew all of that.
It didn't help.
15. A moment and my simple, careless plans were all unmade.
He was sitting at a bar watching Felix flirt with a hot bald guy when they called.
It didn't make sense, at first. Miranda couldn't be hurt, not her, not Miranda the cautious, who only took risks in business. Charlotte might try to help the wrong person, or he might saunter whistling into danger, but Miranda would never be hurt.
Critical condition, they said, and that was wrong too, because Miranda was never in critical condition. Miranda was always collected, always in control.
Miranda was...
Felix had to drive him to the hospital. He was crying too hard to see.
20. Don't think I've ever been betrayed, for that was never true.
Jack had a demon in his head. But he also had sisters, beautiful, smart, warm and loving sisters. He had parents who loved him, who trusted him to go his own way, who never said word one about the way he lived his life. He had Felix, who was... Felix, unbelievable. He had friends who stuck with him, through thick and thin. He had a job he liked. He had a life.
It hurt sometimes. Everything did. He suffered, because everyone did. He had a demon, but he also had a life.
It was a balancing act. But it worked.