sixteen → jade west

begging on your knees

The questions swirled in her mind, each one more unsettling than the last. And as she sat there, alone and confused, she realized that something needed to change. She just wasn't sure what, or how, or even if she had the courage to face it.

But one thing was clear: she couldn't go on like this, feeling unnecessary and overlooked. She needed to find a way to break down the wall, to reclaim her place in the group, in Beck's life.

And so, as she sat there, her mind racing and her heart heavy, she made a silent vow to herself. She would figure this out, would find a way to make her voice heard.

Because the alternative—remaining isolated, unneeded—was simply not an option.

As the evening wore on, the group continued to work on the song, each person contributing their ideas and talents. Tori sang the lyrics they had come up with, Andre played the keyboard, Cat suggested some harmonies, and Robbie offered some lyrical tweaks. Beck played his guitar, occasionally glancing towards the stairs where Jade sat, her presence like a shadow in the corner of the room.

Despite her absence from the group, the creative energy in the room was palpable. Ideas flowed freely, and the song began to take shape. Yet, there was a noticeable void, a missing piece that everyone felt but no one addressed. Jade's unique perspective, her ability to see things from a different angle, was sorely missed.

As the night progressed, and the song neared completion, Beck finally stood up and walked over to Jade. The timeout had long since lost its meaning, and he could tell that she was feeling upset.

"Hey," he said softly, sitting down beside her. "Timeout's over."

Jade glanced at him, her eyes guarded. "Great," she replied flatly.

Beck studied her face, noting the way she avoided his gaze. "You okay?" he asked, genuine concern in his voice.

"I'm fine," Jade insisted, her tone sharp.

Beck nodded, not entirely convinced. "Okay. We're almost done with the song. Do you want to come and listen?"

Jade shrugged, standing up. "Sure, why not."

They walked back into the living room together, but the distance between them felt greater than ever. Jade listened to the song, offering a few suggestions here and there, but her heart wasn't in it. She felt disconnected, out of sync with the group.

As the night came to an end, and everyone started to pack up, Beck offered to drive Jade home. She agreed, albeit reluctantly. The car ride was tense, the silence between them heavy with unspoken words.

Beck glanced at Jade, noting the way she stared out the window, her expression unreadable. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked again.

"I said I'm fine," Jade snapped, her frustration bubbling to the surface.

Beck nodded, deciding not to push her further. He knew Jade well enough to know that she would open up when she was ready. Forcing her to talk would only make things worse.

They pulled up to Jade's mother's house, and Jade got out of the car without a word. Beck watched her walk up to the front door, a sinking feeling in his chest.

He knew that something was off, that Jade was hurting. And he couldn't help but feel responsible. He had put her in a timeout, had dismissed her in front of their friends. Even if it was meant as a joke, he realized that it might have hurt her more than he intended.

As he drove away, he made a mental note to talk to Jade about it, to make sure she was okay. He cared about her too much to let her suffer in silence.

As Jade stepped out of Beck's car, she felt a wave of loneliness wash over her. The door to her mother Ellen's house loomed in front of her like a gateway to another world—a world where she felt just as out of place as she had among her friends earlier that evening.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door and stepped inside. The house was quiet, the air thick with tension. Ellen was in the living room, flipping through a fashion magazine with a look of disdain.

"You're late," Ellen said, not even lifting her eyes from the page.

"I was working on a project with friends," Jade replied, her voice tinged with irritation.

"Friends? Is that what we're calling them now?" Ellen sneered, finally looking up.

Jade clenched her fists, biting back a retort. She was in no mood for one of her mother's verbal sparring matches.

"Goodnight," she muttered, turning to leave the room.

Ellen sighed dramatically. "Fine, go. Run away from your problems like you always do."

Jade's steps faltered, but she didn't turn back. She made her way to her room, shutting the door behind her with a soft click. The walls of her room felt like they were closing in on her, suffocating her.

She sat on the edge of her bed, her thoughts racing. The events of the evening played back in her mind—the timeout, the songwriting session, the feeling of being unnecessary. Would anyone even notice if she wasn't there? Would it matter to anyone if she was gone?

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she let them fall. She buried her face in her hands, her body shaking with silent sobs. The weight of her emotions, the pent-up frustrations and insecurities, broke through the dam she had built around her heart.

Through her tears, she caught sight of her pet bunny, Whiskers, in his cage. He was looking at her, his eyes filled with a simple, uncomplicated love. It was a stark contrast to the complex web of emotions she was entangled in.

She walked over to the cage and opened it, lifting Whiskers out and holding him close to her chest. For a moment, she felt a sense of peace, a brief respite from the storm raging inside her.

"Looks like it's just you and me, buddy," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

As she lay in bed that night, Whiskers nestled beside her, Jade couldn't escape the haunting thought that had taken root in her mind—that she was alone in a world that wouldn't miss her if she was gone. And as she drifted off to sleep, her tears still wet on her cheeks, she couldn't help but feel that Whiskers was the only one who hadn't betrayed her yet.