Daughter of the Demon (I)

Daughter of the Demon-14-Onto a Fresh Start

Chapter 14: Onto a Fresh Start

~Jacob~

That Saturday morning I laid in bed sick to my stomach. Part of it might have been the drastic blood loss. The other part was just, well, your average sickness.

My door was closed and my window was open to let in the fresh air. I was burning up and beads of sweat rolled down my forehead and back. God, I felt horrible. Like somebody punched my stomach, hammered my head, gave me a dose of poison and stuck me in a nine-hundred degree oven to top it off. In case you didn’t know what that felt like, it wasn't good.

Any little sound made my head throb with a pain that was really sudden and sharp, causing me to wince. When the doorbell rang and Belinda shouted up to me that somebody was there, I clamped my hands over my ears in an attempt to drown out everything. It worked for the most part. All I clearly heard was the beating of my heart and the feel of it vibrating against my ribs.

I slid my hands from my ears when my door opened and Jemma walked in. I knew I looked horrible. There was no way around that, but I hadn’t exactly seen Jemma in her finest moments, either, so I figured we were even on that account.

“Hey,” she said softly, my door clicking closed gently behind her. “I brought you cookies. I know you really like cookies, so . . .” she pulled a chair to the edge of the bed by my head and set the cookies on her lap. “I brought some.”

I stared at her strangely, not able to control the small smile that appeared on my face. She wasn’t looking at me directly. Her eyes had found a sudden interest in her cut bare feet. She must have run here again, although she didn’t look windswept or sweaty. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear nervously, picking at her black fingernails. Slowly I sat up, the covers falling from around my shoulders. I was shirtless and only wearing pajama bottoms, and I didn't know why but for some reason it didn’t feel awkward having her in there with me. Not awkward at all.

“I’ll just put these here, then . . . I guess . . .” she set the cookies on the floor and clasped her hands in her lap, biting her lower lip.

After a moment I asked, “What kind of cookies are they?”

“Chocolate chip,” she said carefully, looking up at me through her long eyelashes. I grinned widely.

 “How did you know that’s my favorite?” I asked. That brought a small smile to her face, and it was like the sun broke out on her. I realized then that I’d never really seen her committ to a grin. For somebody so serious and sullen, it was one heck of a smile.

“Good,” she said softly, scratching at a hole in her jeans. What was wrong with her? She was acting wierd.

“Jacob?” She said suddenly, real quietly.

I looked at her. She still wouldn’t meet my eyes. She was clutching her hands so tightly they turned white. “What?” I asked.

“Um . . . how are you . . . feeling?” I raised one eyebrow up at her, but still she wouldn’t life her head. What was wrong with her?

“Not too great,” I admitted. “A little sick.”

She laughed dryly. “A little?”

I shrugged. There was an air of hesitance all around her, and I could tell she had more to say. But I couldn’t stand this ‘no eye contact’ thing. I reached out and put two fingers under her chin, tilting her head up. Some of her hair brushed my arm and left goose-bumps there. When her eyes met mine they were wet and misty.

“I’m sorry,” she said, fighting back a sob. “It’s all my fault you’re like this. If I hadn’t gone and been so stupid maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe I wouldn’t have therapists and shrinks wanting to see me and test me and find out why I’m so intent on killing myself. It’s not that I want to die, Jacob. They don’t understand! They say they do but they don’t know what the crap they’re saying!” She looked hysteric. I brushed hair out of her face.