Tribal (Jenlisa)

Chapter 9

Jennie's POV

My eyes widen. "He's alive?" The last time I saw Taeyoung he was being tied to a tree.

"Unfortunately. He was the one who helped them arrange the kidnapping."

"W-What?" I feel winded, my eyes burn. I'm not sure I fully understand what he's saying. My brain is not processing his words as fast as I would like. The headache spreads, it's almost too much to endure.

"They threatened him to get information out of him. The coward caved and helped them plan it all. He's currently detained until he confesses to everything."

My hand comes up to my forehead. My fingers try to push the headache back.

"Where is Jisoo?" Mother finally speaks.

I look up at her and shake my head. I hope she doesn't expect me to say anything beyond that. I will not tell them she's alive and well. With my father's clear stance on the tribe, I will not make it worse.

She clasps her hands together, uncomfortable again. "I am so sorry, dear."

"So, will you help them?" I turn to my father once more.

"I most certainly will not." He comes to stand closer to me.

I shrink away. My father had never laid a hand on me but I sense his anger. I have never had it directed at me.

"Father, they need your help." I sit up straighter but avoid looking at him.

"They kidnapped you and tried to hurt you for their gain. How can you still defend them!?" He is almost yelling. His face is red, a fat vein pops up on his forehead. I have never seen him like this.

"Honey," My mother tries to soothe him. "She is here with us. We did not lose her. That's what is important."

"I need to rest." I stand without their permission and rush out of there.

The tears that I have been holding in finally roll down my cheeks. Once I am in my old room, I lay in bed, crying for all of those involved in this hideous mess.

~~~

It takes me a couple of days to finally stop crying. I feel hopeless, helpless. I feel so sorry for myself I can't even think about how I can help the Manobal tribe.

As the days pass, I dig myself deeper and deeper into the sad and dark feelings that plague my every thought. It takes me long evenings to pick up the pieces of my broken heart and many nights to be able to think of Lisa without having it break all over again.

Not only did she hurt me, but now because of my impulsiveness the whole tribe will suffer. She will hurt because of me.

After the first week here I feel more comfortable enough wearing my old dresses and tight shoes. I refrain from using anything too restricting, so all of the bodices and corsets do not see the light of day.

I mostly stay in bed, clutching my fur. The only times I leave my bed is to shower. I never go outside, even when my hands itch to do something, anything. I went from constantly making myself useful to not doing anything at all.

My mother visits me every morning, offering me a shoulder to cry on or a sympathetic ear to talk to. Growing up I never had any serious troubles to speak about. Anything prior to this was merely trivial.

My mother and I had a good relationship but I would not say we were very close in the past. Every morning that she walks into my room I feel myself growing fonder of her. Even if I do not speak, she lays a hand on my head and gazes at me, trying to pull the pain away from my eyes.