Miss Mayhem

xix. charred warehouse

xix. charred warehouse

     "IT'S ALMOST FIVE in the morning. What are you doing awake?" Jackson asked as Rinn stepped out of the hallway, yawning and dressed in only a t-shirt and her panties. He tried his best not to look down at the scars on her legs, but he couldn't help it. It seemed as if they were calling his name, demanding he pay attention to them.

"I think the question is, why didn't you go to sleep?" She countered, walking over to the fridge and opening it slowly. She poured herself a glass of orange juice before making her way around the bar and taking a seat next to him.

"I guess that's a good question," he stated bluntly, putting his cigarette out after taking a last, long drag of it. "I'm not going to answer that, though. I don't even know why I couldn't sleep. I tried the end of the bed, the floor, the chairs, the couch . . . even the pool table, stage and bar but nothing."

"That sounds like something I would do," she sighed, eyeing him.

"How'd you sleep?" He asked, causing her to shake her head and look away. Her actions caused him to sigh and nod, watching as she sipped on her orange juice, listening to him as he spoke quietly, "You don't really sleep well, either, do you . . . ? You cry a lot when you close your eyes. What happens in your head when you're supposed to be dreaming?"

"The same thing that happened when I was thirteen," she spat out, causing him to nod and drop the subject.

They stayed silent while Rinn drank the glass of juice she poured. She had expected to see Denver out here at this time of the day and she was hoping he might have talked to her . . . but she doubted he would be doing that anytime soon.

"Does Denver hate me?" She asked causing Jackson to sigh.

"No. Denver doesn't hate you," Jackson murmured softly to her, looking her way. "He's hurt . . . That's all there is to it. He's hurt because you didn't tell him first and he wasn't expecting it to be that. He was expecting some kind of hate towards your brother and your family because they disowned you or they abused you . . . He wasn't expecting it to be r - "

He cut himself off quickly, leaving the room hanging with the sound of what he was going to say. Rinn looked at him after she finished her glass of juice, wondering to herself why he hadn't said it. She wondered if he was in denial or if he didn't want to speak of the act because it might bring it back to her . . . but whatever it was, he seemed to be done talking.

"You can say it," she muttered, looking away from him and out one of the windows. It was uncovered, unlike the others. Rinn figured Jackson left it open for a reason unknown to her.

"I'm not going to," he stated icily.

She nodded, standing and heading back to his room. She laid down in bed and smoked a cigarette, thinking over Denver and why he wasn't talking to her. She wanted him to . . . She wanted to apologize and try to make him understand why she couldn't tell anyone before then, but he wouldn't let her.

She knew that.

Eventually, she stood and got dressed. Her movements seemed somewhat robotic; it was like she wasn't controlling herself at all as time dragged by. She wasn't happy. She wasn't relieved and grateful to be alive, today. She wasn't reeling with excitement for the day to begin.

She was just moving. Something was pushing her to keep going and she didn't know what. She wasn't going to beat life or find a way out of it; she knew that . . . So, she let whatever it was that was controlling her do just that, simply because there was no reason to fight against it.

Slowly and deliberately, she stepped out of Jackson's room and headed down to the bar. David already had a drink poured for her, which she slammed down in a minute flat. It impressed her, but she didn't understand why she wasn't just given the entire bottle, since that's what she wanted.