Vivamus, Moriendum est (Rorschach x oc)

33. Mary, you're a fine girl

Mary's P.O.V.

By midafternoon we were out in the truck. Dior had flipped the visor down and had applied a quick swipe of lipstick before throwing the truck into gear. Then we were off to who knows where. 

I thought maybe we'd go into a local town or something but after twenty minutes and not stopping I felt it reasonable to conclude it would be a long ride.

"Where exactly are we going?" I finally asked.

"A nice department store they have out west here. Now it's not as nice as those big fancy luxury stores you've got in York there, but it'll do." Dior replied fiddling with the radio.

"Hm, it's all rubbish." She declared before flicking it off entirely, "chatting is the better way to pass time anyway. Just us girls. Gettin' to know one another."

"How is that you met James and Roger?" I asked suddenly.

Dior seemed unbothered by the prying question. She flashed her perfect Hollywood starlet smile. "Ooh, you get right to it, don' you duckie."

"You said we'd get to know each other." I said trying to defend my boldness.

"Oh, you're alright. Well, James and Roger aren't from where I was back home. Eh, well Rog he's from London. James come to think of it long as I've known the bastard, I've no idea where he comes from." She giggled, "twat never told me."

"Where are you from?"

"Does it matter? All you Americans seem to know is London." There was no edge to her voice only playful teasing.

"I guess not." I said anyway.

But she answered the question regardless, "Grasmere. I'm from Grasmere. Small town near Manchester. But I ended up in London anyway. That was after I met James. He just kind of showed up one day. By that point I had left home. My mother just didn't get me if you know whot I mean. For starter's she gave me this posh name like Elizabeth and told me I'd settle with a nice man somewhere. I wasn't about that at all. Sometimes I wish I stayed cause leaving home got me stuck with James."

I frowned, "you don't like James?"

"Don't get me wrong he's the love of my life. Least that's what I tell myself as I lie beside him each night. In reality he's the devil."

"Why don't you leave?"

Dior laughed that tinkling laugh of hers again, though I noticed it always seemed to be an insincere one. "Leave she says! It's not that simple, duckie."

"Roger seems to think James saved his life." I said.

"And he probably did. That's the worst part of it all."

"Then why hate him?"

"You drove cross this whole country with him, didn't you? You're tellin' me you didn't pick up on anything?"

"I was...delirious for most of that. But...still I guess I could see what you mean."

"That's James' modem operandi.  It's whot he does. He saves people. There's a reason all the people he associates with are former street dwellers. He plucks you off the street and makes you feel special for a while. He knows your absolutely completely lost and he feeds off of it. He makes you feel like you need him and let's face it often times you do. But then you become dependent on him. He's like your life source. And you come to figure out that while you need him to just survive another day, he don't need you one bit. So, you become desperately eager to please him, so he'll keep you around for another week or so. Some get lucky and spend their whole lives with them. Which isn't saying much as they usually die within a few years of the James Oliver treatment. But it's longer than they'd last on the street. Part of what he does is he gets you hooked on drugs. He controls the supply and you become to associate your highs with him, and you know he's all that can get you that hit. And he'll keep flooding your system with it. And then you overdose. And he moves on looking for his next project."

"Okay and my question still stands you're with him still why?" I ask in disbelief.

"He usually isn't this moody in the beginning. The first time I met him he literally pulled me off the street and took me in his arms. He bought me food and told me he knew just from lookin' at me that I was special. And I believed him. He wasn't rich like me mum wanted. But damn was he good. The perfect gentleman. Then he made me change things. Little at first. The way I dressed, I wasn't wearing enough make-up, my hair wasn't blonde enough. Stuff like that. Then he made me change my name. By that point I was going by Lizzie, but he said that was boring and common. He suggested Dior. I agreed because it's this high-end fashion brand and I thought he picked it because he thought I was worth high-end fashion. Then one night I heard him tell his mates that he suggested I call myself 'the whore' and I took it as a stupid fashion brand. That was one of the first signs. After that he started sleeping around. I'd call him out on it, and he'd tell me he could do whatever he wanted. I've tried to leave but I don't know what I'd do. I've been joint at the hip with him for so long. Where would I go? I stand up to him and he hits me. He's stronger, he'll always win."

"I understand." I said quietly, I didn't. Not at all. Even as she told me these things, I couldn't imagine it. 

"Is Roger like him?" I asked. I didn't know why I did. I just felt I had to know.

"Roger. Roger Moore. He's a tosser. Not a devil like James but he's a bloody rotten coward if I've ever seen one. I've been waiting for him to stand up to James for years. But he was in even worse state than I was when James got his hands on 'im."

"Oh."

"He fancies you though. Maybe we could use that."

"How?"

"Convince him to fight for you. He's rather taken with you. Sure, he comes off as even more of a scoundrel than James but it's an act for him, I think. He's actually rather sensitive. And he really has taken to you."

I felt a sudden panic, "Roger's not in love with me, is he?"

There was that laugh again. Sophisticated graceful satire. 

"There's no such thing."

"But you said-"

"I know whot I said. And you took it wrong. Love don't exist, alright. Roger is a lost little codependent arse. He'll bond to anything that'll give him even the slightest bit of attention. That happens to be you, you're pretty busted face aside and he's lonely and insecure."

"What about James? You said you were in love with him."

"I thought I was in love with him. But as I said there's no such thing as love. I was lost he found me and guided me. It may have been straight into fresh hell, but it was more guidance than I could ever give myself. With him it was pretty clothes, meals everyday that's more than a poor little girl with dreams of being a princess could ever hope for once she grows up and realizes the queen's a snob and the castle's full."

"Well, maybe he wasn't who you thought but that doesn't mean love isn't real at all."

"Whot are you some kind of aristocrat? Love is only for those who can afford to sit around stuffin' themselves silly with cakes who don't have nothing better to do. The rich can afford love. For us regular folk it's just how we get by. It's better to suffer with someone else than travel to hell alone. It's best you rid yourself of those ideas of love now."

I slumped into my seat. Somehow that notion didn't sit with me. What about Jared and Irene? They had been in love. Bernice seemed to love Tobias. I loved Walter. And I was fairly sure he loved me somehow. Just because things hadn't worked out for Elizabeth didn't mean the whole world had to be devoid of love. I resolved I would cling to my notions of it no matter how silly or fanciful. I wouldn't rid myself of them just yet.