☆☆☆ Chapter 34 ☆☆☆
A Change in Blossom
*Jade's Point of View (POV)*
Yes, it must be that one── Christmas season, two years ago.
Everything everywhere had red, green and white with bits and pieces of gold and silver. All sorts of stores, restaurants, banks, and even at the airport and front desk of the broken-down motel on the highway where only truckers, hookers, or people like me crashed in, Christmas songs played over and over again, with annoyed clerks and tired managers wearing elf or Santa hats.
A typical cold day after some moderate snowfall in Peapod, Massachusetts.
I arrived there with a full eight hours' worth of sleep and little to no jet lag, regardless of all the jobs I was scheduled for throughout several polar states and one European country. In the eyes of my so-called parents and other family members, I was out traveling for educational purposes, learning on my own, if they cared or actually set some time aside to ask.
I was free from any obligations; free from school, free from family ties or friendships, free from an everyday routine, free from everything and anything── all except for my job.
I liked it that way, or at least I thought I did.
"So?" Roger began, clapping his hands together, knowing fully well that he was interrupting my thoughts. "You thought about it long and hard, didn't you? One of the worst, if not the worst, of all the jobs assigned to Blossom in their entire career." My eyes snapped up to his own as soon as he mentioned my alias. I never gave him that info. "Come on, I'm not dumb. I've known their identity for quite a while, mainly because I know you so well." Before continuing, he let out a small chuckle. "Plus, your hair was a dead giveaway. You should know better. You're too easy to read. Well, actually, that doesn't matter anymor── "
It was instinctive. It must have been. Before I could even move a muscle, Roger had already immobilized me. "Let me go," I growled, but he didn't move a muscle. "I said let me go, you fucker!"
"Tell me why, then. So that you can go ahead and kill yourself, as part of the protocol?" he asked in an alarmingly casual manner. I had no intention to answer that, and he caught on quickly. "Tsk tsk, you should value yourself more, Jade. You know it, I know it. You don't want to be Blossom, you never did. Stop following their rules."
"You don't know anything 'bout me! Shut the hell up before I── "
"Just a quick reminder that I'm literally holding you down. You can't do shit," he said, raising his voice just enough to stop my tracks. "Now, tell me about Blossom's worst job."
I gulped away a burning sensation. Well, I tried, actually, but it only made it worse. "Heaven... heavens, please, help me... "
The town was in a merry mood, welcoming every passerby and resident with a bright, heavily decorated and humongous pine tree that rested right at the heart of the town square.
Within the first hour of my arrival, I spotted one of my targets playing with other children: Luis "Buckteeth" Jones, seven years old. Oldest of all the Jones' kids. Had recently been visited by the tooth fairy, but already spent his dimes on sweets and minty candy canes.
"What? Cat's got your tongue? Say something." After looking at me directly in the eyes for a long minute, he let go of me and threw his hands up in the air. I didn't dare to move a single muscle. "You're free now. Speak."
"No," I muttered, shaking my head. Even if I wanted to speak, I couldn't. My throat gave in to imaginary lumps, forcing my vocal cords to bail on me.
How convenient it was that out of the blue his mother walked into my field of view, directly to her son. Miranda Jones, thirty-five years old. Housewife of eleven years. Pillar of the housewives in her neighborhood, never missed Bible Study on Saturdays. Volunteered at the local homeless shelter whenever she could. Eight months into her fourth pregnancy, scheduled to give birth by Valentine's Day.
Main target.
I was promised a large sum for her head, and a bonus for each and every child.
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Desmond Jones, forty-two years old. Breadwinner of the Jones household, proud husband and father.
Mr. Jones arrived days after from a business trip expecting to be greeted with his children's excited hugs and a warm kiss from his wife. Instead, as he stepped into his home, Mr. Jones was greeted not by people, but by the alluring smell of homemade meatloaf. He felt no form of movement or sound, except for the radio by the kitchen playing an old, upbeat christmas song. He suspected nothing. Dinner was on its way, the house was squeaky clean and the heater was working. Mr. Jones likely believed his children were still outside playing with snow, and his wife to be taking a quick shower before the meatloaf finished up cooking in the oven.
Following his nose, Mr. Jones was led to the kitchen, where beautifully wrapped and boxed presents soaked from the bottom with a substance he couldn't quite place a word on grabbed his entire attention. Christmas presents from the neighbors, he may have believed them to be.
A sudden and heavy whiff of the mouthwatering meatloaf snapped his attention right back to his growing hunger. He called out Mrs. Jones' name towards the direction of the bathroom, but there was no reply, and so, he took the matter into his own hands. Putting on his beloved wife's mittens, he opened the oven door and grabbed the handles of the Dutch oven pot, placing it on the counter swiftly after taking it out of the food furnace. When he opened the tight, opaque lid, a person stared right back at him from the pot.
It was a small body cornered by odd-sized balls of ground meat, covered in gravy, carrots, corn, broccoli, and soft, hard-boiled eggs. Mrs. Jones had planned to name the little girl Emma Jones, but now── with her umbilical cord wrapped around her thin little neck, it's Meatloaf Jones.
It was the week before Christmas, still too early to open up the presents. Maybe that's why he sprinted out of the house and screamed at the top of his lungs, he must've wanted to open those gifts oh-so-very badly. I felt so bad for him, so bad that he resisted from finding his other children hiding in the presents. He didn't even give himself the chance to see the bathroom, whose walls were painted with blood and floors decorated with his children's eyeballs and milk teeth. His wife's headless and gutless self was lonely there in the bathroom, too, waiting for him to notice her in the tub with an adorable Hallmark card resting on her bosom with a standard, pre-written message on it: we wish you a merry christmas and a happy new year.
I worked so hard on it, too. It was truly a bummer.
An even greater reward awaited me if I made it all interesting.
Yes, it must be that one── Christmas season, two years ago; the Jones family in Peapod, Massachusetts. The week before Christmas. A nightmare.
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It was a blast, I had so much fun! It was cruel, it was monstrous, it was the best moment of my life, it was the worst moment of it, one of the few turning points of my sixteen years of existence where I had done the best in my power to tear apart what was left of my heart. But no, here I am, because I wasn't able to tear it all apart, because I'm essentially a weak little bitch. I am here, laughing, but not really laughing. What is this feeling? Don't let it be what I'm thinking. I'm tired of it. I don't want it, but it's happening. Why is it happening again? No, no tears. Fuck them, I'm Jade. I am Blossom. We are Jade and Blossom. No tears, no remorse, no sour taste in my mouth, no lump in my throat, no nothing. Their screams, nobody but me heard them. Little Luis Jones, I smashed his skull so hard his neck cracked. Little Debby Jones, I slit her throat. Most of the bathroom wall was stained with her blood. Mrs. Jones...
Oh heavens, why?
Why, you say? Because you did it. It's your fault, you killed them. You killed them all.
There, that was all I needed. Roger was right. A quick recollection of what I'd done under Teresa's truth serum was all it took. Heaven, heaven help me.
They weren't the only ones that suffered. You know it, I know it. You will suffer for the rest of your life knowing nothing will change, that you can't bring them back. Killing yourself won't do anything, living won't do anything. What's your purpose now, to be nothing, do nothing? 'Cause if you dare to do something it'll still achieve nothing.
I felt Roger's fingers lift my chin. "Jade. Look at me, Jade." His eyes, his piercing eyes. So big, so round, so dark and void of many things, bright and bursting with many things. "Look at me, Jade, and listen to me: you can change. You are changing. You matter, what you've done matters, and you can live repenting for what you've done. Redeem yourself, find a new purpose. Seek forgiveness, even if you won't get it. Live to help others, live to live, live to serve, live to cope, live to grow. I don't care if you think you don't deserve it. You're sixteen, okay? People took advantage of your vulnerable self, molded you into what they wanted you to do. You did those things, but you can still live. There is a purpose to what I'm saying. Listen to me, Jade."
"Here's the chance of a lifetime, kid. If there is even a tiny part of you that wishes to repent or change for the better, take this. Take this as many times as needed 'til you no longer feel sick in the head, with the guidance of someone who can understand or help you through the pain. Your choice will show me who you are, and who you want to be. I may or may not try to forgive you, depending on what you do."
Is this the way to live? Someone like me can do such a thing, dare to do such a thing? Will I ever have the chance for forgiveness, to make up for it all? No, there's no such thing. This is all a ruse, I can't be forgiven for my sins. Teresa did this to me so that I could suffer, and I deserve it.
If you could turn back time, would you even learn from this? Will your past self even listen to you? No, she won't, and you know it. I know it. She'll call you weak and throw you down a lake after slitting your throat, just as you did with many others.
I want to die, but what will that achieve? Nothing. "Why, Roger? Why does it hurt?"
"Oh, I see, I see. Little Miss Jade, the hardened veteran, is scared of change? Afraid of coming back to this after you change? Or is it that you think it won't change you?"
"It's good to know, Jade, that it hurts. You followed a path right behind Death itself, but now you feel it from the surface and all the way down to the core, don't you? The pain, the sorrow, the disgust, the self-hatred. Don't you dare forget it, or I'll get Teresa to make you a nice drink again. Live with it, come to understand your feelings, develop from them, and once you're gray and old, remember it all, Jade. Remember your journey. Follow that path and you'll be fine for the most part."
Roger── he's seen most of the things life has to offer through the last moments of others, forever bound to repent, or is it me? It's me.
"I'm a monster, Roger. It... it won't work with someone like me."
"So am I, but I made it work," Roger humorlessly chuckled. I couldn't help but narrow my eyes at him, and he immediately responded with the type of nervous half-smile a soldier in the middle of battle would give. It was something new from him, and I couldn't tell how I felt about it. "You forgot who you're talking to, didn't you? I'm the three-second fiend, Jade. Back at the barracks, did you fail to pick up on all the rumors, or did you not believe them? Too intense for comfort? They were all true. It was all me. And all the jobs you've done to this day? They amount to nothing when compared to what I did in a six-month timespan, guaranteed. The things I've done... there's no end to them."
His eyes locked onto mine, more serious than ever before. They tore right through me. For once, someone actually managed to make chills crawl down my spine, but I shouldn't have expected any less from Roger.
"Jade, I, I'm the Reaper. It's... self-explanatory." We stayed quiet for an entire minute, letting it all sink in; his alias, his confession, his words, before Roger outwardly showed he felt uncomfortable with it. "Everyone heard of that name, feared it, admired it, envied it, loved it, everyone wanted their service. I was the supposedly genius fiend, the underworld's first choice, the one who reaped souls. I, as the Reaper, was the one-hit wonder that snapped." Silence. "I couldn't take it, what I did, what I became... I tried a couple of times to end it all before finding an answer to my problems, and it wasn't until Daniel went out of his way to help me that I even found it, and trust me, it wasn't an easy thing for either of us to go through, but he was there for me." He looked down at his hands, and breathed in, deep. "I'm one fortunate bastard to have his weird, sensitive self around. He's just so, so very, very... nice."
Looking up at the ceiling, Roger bit his lip. His eyes were lost, deep in the forest of his thoughts, but it didn't stop him from talking. "Ah, how long has it been since I left? Three years, five years, one year? It's all so fresh in my mind, it's disgusting. It's... unsettling. The jobs, the barracks, the grooming... they're not even half of it. So many things I did for the sake of leaving, so many horrible things, so... yeah, I, I'm out for good, in one piece, with a beating heart. I... I had to do it, I needed to know if there was a way out, no matter what, but... I almost lost myself, it was... haha. The details don't matter right now." He gave me another one of his small, pained smiles before continuing. "It wasn't all for my sake though. I, I needed to know if there was a way out, for you. I always wanted you out of there, but I needed to know certain things before I could, and for you to open your eyes. Ha, it... it blows me away, knowing that all you needed were a couple of stabs and a truth serum." He snickered. "I mean, I could've done it myself── far more efficiently, even. Hell, I could've── "
I couldn't help but rush into his arms by that point. The pain from the exertion of it all was immediate, but it was well worth it. "Tsk, that's enough, say no more, you fucker! Stop rambling and hug me."
Always the stupid hero with a cape, that dumb, self-sacrificing, noble Roger, even exposing himself to make me feel better. He's the real brother I never had, always with me, watching over me. Yet, he knows fully well that I brought him down to hell with me; I fed him to the wolves to be trained, just as someone did to me. How does he not blame me── because he understands? That may be the worst part of it all.
Surgery's a bitch. Recovery's a bitch. Pain's the worst bitch of all. Still, I held him, pressed myself onto him. It was well worth it.
"Um, Jade... let's not do that."
He didn't seem to take it in well. Maybe he's not into hugs? Maybe he's embarrassed? Maybe he's nervous, or wary of me and my age? Maybe he's uncomfortable? On the edge? Turned on? Gay? Hates to be touched?
Nah, whatever, the reason doesn't really matter, at least not right now. I wanted a hug and nothing was gonna stop me from one.
Yes, I'm a monster. I hurt everyone around me. I've beaten, I've tortured, I've killed, and I've laughed. I forced myself to do many things, confused and far beyond lost. I've cried, I've screamed, I've bottled many years' worth of sorrow and guilt. I've done many things that'll bring me straight to hell once I die. Can I still live before then, if Roger can; if the one and only Reaper can?
I spread my hands all over his back, ignoring his pleads for me to let go. At this point, he was squirming. "Who the fuck do you think you are? You're not the one that's been shoving Deep Feelings up their ass for days on end now, throwing up like a pregnant bitch, bitch."
Tears continued to burn my eyes, but maybe it was a good thing. Somewhere along the way, Roger finally stopped resisting, maybe 'cause I was straight-up crying on him by then, seriously unable to control myself. He hugged me back eventually, too, and it only made the tears come out with a heavier toll on my throat, and more than anything, it tightened my chest knowing that both he held me just as one does to a baby; carefully, lightly, so as not to hurt or startle me, and that just like a baby, I felt safe and snug in such care. It was the type of warmth I needed, and so in his arms I remained, clutching onto him even after calming down, refusing to let him go.
My eyes were, in time, dead, swollen, and drained of all liquids, down to the very last drop, but maybe it was a good thing. Something made me feel a little lighter by then, too, but I wasn't sure what. The twitching of my hands and fingers felt slightly easier to manage, too, but that wasn't all that made me feel lighter.
Whatever that something was, it felt... weird, and new, too, but maybe that was a good thing. Who the hell knows?
While sneaking a peek at my wiggling toes from Roger's shoulder, I decided to bring a wandering thought to life: "So, hey, I'm not surprised you're the Reaper. I always thought they were you, but I was never able to ask you under the code and Oath. It just fit in with you so well, really, seeing how skilled you were at── "
Roger immediately recoiled from the hug, patting my head similar to how a friendly stranger pets a dog, before sitting back on his chair. "Okay, let's not ramble on that. Let's talk about something else, Jade."
No matter how annoyed I felt at him leaving me, I nodded and gave him the warmest of smiles, but his eyes narrowed in playful suspicion. Maybe it wasn't that much of a smile? It's been a while since I've tried to do one, maybe it wasn't a pretty sight.
"Okay," I said, clenching my fists to motivate myself into voicing out my feelings again, but this time for something that's bound to lead to change. A good change, maybe. Hopefully. "Roger, I'll... I'll tell you this, I... " I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it out just as fast. "I don't want to do this anymore. I, I don't want to be under their control."
Roger's eyes glowed, and his teeth glowed just as much after revealing themselves in the type of warm smile I couldn't do. Maybe one day, I might be able to make one like his. Hopefully.
He came up to me and pecked the top of my head. "The day's finally here. I did everything I could to get myself out of there, and now it's your turn," he sighed, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "I'll be honest, considering your rank, you're expendable to them; they see no value in keeping you alive if you leave, and you have no leverage on them to keep them from thinking otherwise. It'll... it'll be an understatement to deem it as a hard task." I get it. I'm not you, basically. "But I'm here. I'll help you, I'll do whatever I can, alright? So don't you dare try and put it all on your shoulders, or disappear on me, or think that you're bothering me. I'm going to be with you every step of the way, Jade, no matter what. I'll stop you from making any more choices you'll regret. I'll be right there, right here, right anywhere, with you. You are not alone, you will never be. I promise you that, kid."
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Author's Note (A/N):
Greetings, I'm Indigo Ivy── the author of this story. I hope you're enjoying it. It's a rewrite of another I wrote, so seeing it grow as it is makes me super proud of how well its development, more than I already am. It's been an exciting journey for me~
What do you think so far of it all?
Who's your favorite character(s) so far, and why? How about the opposite?
Okay, okay, I'll go to my corner now, I talked── or rather, typed too much, got too excited haha. Goodbye! Thank you for reading, voting, commenting, sharing, following, and/or just in general being here, in the 30s! That's crazy, you've read this far and you're still reading?! You must love crazy stuff, or you may just wanna know how it all ends, or both. Who knows? Either way, you're here. <3