In his failed attempt to get a full night's worth of shut-eye before the Crows departed from Ketterdam, Jesper had resorted to polishing the pearl handles of his beloved revolvers. It wasn't of lack of trying that he had concluded that he didn't have a shot at sleep that night. Not over the obnoxious pounding of Kaz's cane as paced in the room above his own. Of course, over time he had become accustomed to the boy's extraordinarily abnormal and unfavorable sleep schedule, but this had begun to get a little bit out of hand.
Jesper could only imagine the path that Kaz was carving into the floor of his room and silently pleaded with whatever saint that was listening that Brekker would spontaneously pass out from exhaustion and save both of them their sanity. It was normal for the boy above him to pace, but never so endlessly and never with the ferocity that had Jesper wondering if he should bunk with Inej or Shivani for the night in case that Kaz's floor, Jesper's ceiling, decided to give out and rain down upon him. It was with that thought of the other two Crows that the sharpshooter now became all too aware of another racket from just down the hall.
While there were multiple rooms crammed beside each other in the Slat, there was only one to the right of his own at the end of the hall. It was a room slightly larger than his own, due to the half-hazard design of the building that resided next to the stairs that would lead down to the floors below as well as Kaz's room on the floor above.
In all the time that Jesper had lived at the Slat and been a part of the Dregs that room had always remained not only occupied but off-limits as well. It was because of this that he knew that the glass that was being shattered against the wall at full force and the sounds of destruction was coming from the girl that had only just returned an hour or so before the manic pacing from above had started. Suddenly, the pieces seemed to fit together flawlessly in Jesper's mind.
Of course, he hadn't known her all of their lives, although it felt like, he had never seen, or in this case, heard Shivani so distressed. It was when he recognized the pattern of fists hammering defeatedly against the wall that he knew beyond a doubt that he would have rather listened to her weep. Tears were something that could be wiped away without a trace, but this left scars, and saints knew she already had enough.
The longer that Jesper listened, the more he wished he couldn't. Something about only being able to imagine her pain and do nothing about it stung more than it should of. With each crash of an unknown object, he was gradually reminded of all of the times that she had stood by him. How she made sure to never slight him for his gambling addiction that she knew he had no control over. How she would listen to him ramble about his Da and the farm. So he felt helpless as each minute passed knowing that her door was locked and that was the way she wanted it.
Shivani had become an inviting face when he had run face-first into the gang life. She had filled a hole in his heart that had been empty for an uncomfortably long time and became an incomparable friend. Over time, the more he had gotten to know her, he began to admire the older girl for the silent battle that she constantly seemed to face but never showed. Especially in the last few months, as the bags underneath her eyes darkened and her face became more gaunt, Shivani still placed everything above herself. Although, he knew she would have said otherwise.
On the other side of the wall, each punch Shivani threw felt more demanding of the energy that she didn't have left anymore. Her knuckles had split open in several places and the scarlet liquid seeped between her fingers and leaked down her hands to her wrists. When she had finally given in to the exhaustion that consumed her and sunk to the floor against her now ruined wall, she regretfully remembered the ruination that she had inflicted on the room around her.
Each lamp she threw, each hole she punched through the weathered wall was for its own reason. Her possessions laying waste, and the undoing of her bedroom served as a reminder. A reminder of every regret-filled moment, sentence, that she couldn't take back. Of those, only hours ago and some years.
At the forefront of her mind, nothing seemed to beat the overwhelming anguish of her shame. She had walked straight into a cage of her own affliction without even a single glance back. On the other side of her self-inflicted steel bars stood the tormenting memories that still left her clothes soaked to the bone. It had been a moment of weakness, a singular moment where her walls had crumbled too low. So she was drowning, deeper and deeper in her despair as she resentfully recalled how she had lost all control of the words that spilled out of her mouth the moment she had met his steely gaze.
Past that, beyond the first visible layer, below the layer that bleeds the least was the truth to the last secret that she held tight to her chest. While Shivani had hoped that it would fade in time, his eyes, his hollow lifeless eyes remained. It was this that had made her return to the ghost of herself that had already healed over the wound once, only for it to be cut open again at the slightest strain.
Shivani's eyes clenched shut painfully as she gripped her hair in torment, head tilted back in a last-ditch effort to avoid any more unnecessary tears. To her dismay, it couldn't hold back the voice that belonged to those eyes.
It was once the sweet-singer of Kerch lullaby's but had morphed into the rasp of a man who was on the brink of death. Her father's blood-stained lips had pleaded and pleaded for mercy from the girl he raised like an animal on her way to slaughter, a pawn in something larger than her little self. It wasn't after the first gunshot that she was flooded with the emotion that had been in her absence, but when he had called her by the name of her mother in a pained daze. It had hurt, more than any wound to be called the woman that looked so much like herself that he had felt nothing towards his own daughter. Shivani had given him the best response she could muster, but now it felt like five gunshots too many.
Each blow she gave was a blow she took, it was all too many.
From the floor above, Kaz's pacing refused to cease. He was filled to the brim with raging hot anger, no longer at Shivani but the world. Though, this was not the reason for his constant state of restlessness. Kaz had found himself in the predicament that he was left with more questions than answers. All of such were questions he knew better than to ask because Shivani would not answer. At least, not now.
Now, knowing what he knew, Kaz wondered more than ever why Shivani was willing to take such a risk for the Wraith. If her past was what she said, and he could presume this was only the tip of the iceberg, he could not seem to understand her actions by any means. To be blunt, he thought it was foolish, reckless, and it put them all at risk, but Kaz could not find it in himself to be mad at her because she was more selfless than he knew he could ever be.
Kaz had tried to move past the events from earlier that evening but no matter how hard he tried, the same image remained ingrained in his mind. Shivani had stood there before him, stripped to nothing. For once, he had seen her walls down and unarmed. It had felt unnatural in a sense. This broken image was not who she was, not who he thought she was.
This feeling was different than others he knew because as horrible as it seemed, Kaz felt as if maybe now he could place his trust in her. He had feared that whatever faith in her that he refrained from fully giving would be the right move. She had kept secrets for so long, ones he couldn't even uncover, but now they were naked for the eye to bear witness to, and maybe, just maybe, he could allow himself to trust in her the way he had withheld for too long. She no longer had anything to hide and knowing that almost made him settle enough to quit pacing.
By now, Kaz's leg ached in unmistakable pain and as much as his mind told him he couldn't keep still, his body would not allow it. He slumped into his chair, removing his gloves from his hands in one solid motion. Grasping the head of his cane, his fingers wrapping around it he began to think of Jordie. He didn't know why, but something about his past nagged at him, urging to be set free. Shiv had just given up a chunk of her, a part of her wretched past that she would never get back, never get to untell, but what of him? He was gloves on, sleeves rolled down and it had always been that way but something about felt wrong. It felt like he owed her something. Like he owed her a part of him, and Kaz hated it.
He hated that he felt obliged to give up something of himself just because she opened her mouth. He hated that he wanted to tell her. To tell her about Jordie, about the farm, about when no one compared him to a monster. Kaz wanted to tell her something, anything. She deserved that. It wasn't something he knew if he could give.
A/N:
Happy holidays to everyone! I know that this is a short chapter but I wanted to provide some very important insight, especially on Jesper's character. I was not expecting to write a whole chapter on Christmas at 1 am but enjoy lol. We are almost to 2k reads and that may not seem like a lot to some of you but to me, it means the world and I am so incredibly grateful for your support!
Thank you as always, your author who should probably go to bed.