Fanfiction: Origin - Part Three
“Chris, let it go.” Jesse sounded tired, like she was as fed up with her pseudo-boyfriend as she was with her daughter. “She’s just moping, and it’ll only get worse if you give her another reason, so let’s just leave, all right?”
Since the sound of retreating footfalls didn’t immediately come, Faith figured that Chris was considering whether he should take Jesse’s advice or simply break down the door with his bare hands in order to get to her. Finally, Chris muttered something incomprehensible; the front door opened; the front door closed. Faith threw her own door open as hard as she could and raced into the middle of the living room.
“I hate you!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, almost wishing that Chris were there to hear her. She knew that he and Jesse were already out of earshot, but it felt good to vocalize her feelings for Chris, since she rarely got an opportunity to do so. “I wish you were dead!”
She yelled a few more insults before her throat began to hurt; not speaking to anyone for such a long time had taken its toll on her vocal chords. In her mind, she saw herself older, more powerful, finally being able to fight back against Chris and all his stupid bullshit. She would stand up to him and take her revenge for all the pain and suffering he had forced on her throughout the last few years; she would punch and kick until he was broken husk of a man; she would make him understand the terror that he had inflicted on a helpless little girl. Someday, she knew it would happen…but not today. Sighing, Faith tried to ignore the imagery in her mind that constantly replayed bloody scenes of triumph and went to watch TV, having nothing better to do.
Television seemed to be getting more and more boring these days, and Faith had difficulty finding anything decent to watch. Finally settling on some kind of old movie, she sat down, tried to clear her mind of anything overly negative, and turned her full attention to the characters onscreen. Despite her best efforts, some time later, she fell asleep on the couch, either due to lack of interest in the TV or exhaustion from having so much hatred within her small body. Her mundane existence made sleep seem positively enthralling, since her dreams usually took her to places far away, or at least to places that weren’t in the apartment, and that was good enough for her. The colorless movie quietly flickered in the darkened living room, projecting shadows and strange shapes onto the bare walls, washing over Faith’s sleeping form in a macabre slide show of twisting images. No other light was on in the apartment besides that which the TV was able to produce, and Faith slept more or less soundly for a few hours, until she was rudely awakened by the front door being loudly opened.
Half-heartedly opening a single eye, Faith watched as someone almost fell into the living room. Mind coming quickly into focus, she was able to tell that the form belonged to Chris, even though the room was almost totally wrapped in darkness. He was mumbling something to Jesse, who staggered in a few seconds later, apparently in much the same shape as Chris was. Faith knew they were both drunk; their actions literally screamed it, and besides, she’d seen enough of it in her short life to realize what was going on. Struggling between a decision to run to her room or stay put on the couch, she found that she was unable to muster the motivation to move, so she simply watched quietly as her two parental figures stumbled about confusedly. Chris was obviously the more intoxicated of the pair, as he ricocheted off the walls like a pinball, occasionally cursing while trying to regain some semblance of equilibrium.
“Why’s the TV on?” Chris slurred, finally giving up and sitting down in front of the screen.
Jesse, who had been unable to discover the light switch, shut the front door and then nearly tripped over Chris on her way to the kitchen.
“Beats me,” she said. “Faith must’ve left it on.”
Chris reached out and pressed the power button, plunging the room into near-total blackness. Faith couldn’t believe that neither Jesse nor Chris had even noticed that she was lying on the couch. They had reached a new level of drunkenness. Good for them. Her eyes gradually adjusted to the absence of illumination, and she was able to see shadowy shapes in the meek moonlight that crept in from the kitchen window, which effectively created a noir-like ambience that was a little disconcerting.
“What are you going to do about that damn kid?” This from Chris, still sitting on the floor in front of the dead television. He sounded angry, as if Faith had personally insulted him. “You can’t let her do whatever the hell she wants, you—”
“She’ll be punished,” Jesse interjected, still expressing some of the tiredness that Faith had heard earlier that evening. “I just don’t know what it should be yet.”
Chris was suddenly on his feet, and Faith shrank unconsciously back into the couch. She knew something bad was probably going to happen, but she had a mind to prevent it for as long as possible. Maybe she’d even get lucky. Maybe both of them would just pass out on the floor. “I know what it should be,” Chris sternly declared, and he swayed over to the left as he moved forward, trying to find Faith’s door. He finally did locate it, but unfortunately for him, Faith had left it wide open, and when he went to bang on the open air, he lost his balance and toppled straight into the room with a loud thud. There was an expletive of some kind, and Jesse laughed despite her best efforts to the contrary. Only a few seconds later, however, he was back on his feet and standing under the doorframe, his pride severely injured. “Where is that little bitch?!” he demanded, barely able to control himself.
Jesse didn’t respond, and Faith sure wasn’t going to offer a suggestion. The standoff continued for a while, and then Chris started tracking his head back and forth, searching the darkness for some sign of his prey. Several times, his gaze passed right over Faith, and she never took her eyes off of him, wanting to have a head start if she suddenly had to bolt for cover. The silence in the apartment was starting to become thick with tension, and just when Faith thought Chris had given up his quest, his head snapped back towards the couch, and without so much as a word, he was suddenly towering overhead, a look of pure malevolence plastered across his face.
As his hand shot forward, Faith managed to push herself to the side, avoiding capture. Seeing no real chance of escape, she did the only thing she could, and kicked her nemesis in the shin with all the power her ten-year-old body could produce. She felt her heel connect solidly with bone.
“God damn it!” Chris shouted, unaccustomed to being injured in such a fashion. “I’ll kill you!”
By this time, Faith had gotten to her feet and was standing in the corner of the room, only a few feet away from the safety that the front door might offer if she could wrench it open and run downstairs. But as soon as she even had the thought, Chris was back, effectively trapping Faith in her own hiding spot.
“Mom!” Faith yelled, hoping to elicit some sort of protective response from her mother. “Mom!” she yelled again. “Help!”
There was no response, save for the drunken laughter that escaped Chris’ lips. Now there was going to be no escape; Chris was stronger and faster. Suddenly, all the bloody beatings came flooding back into Faith’s consciousness, parading a seemingly endless montage of suffering and hurt within her mind. She saw herself thrown to the ground. She saw a fist cracking against her head. She felt a glass beer bottle collide with her back. She saw everything that she had experienced at Chris’ hands, and in that moment, something within her broke loose of its cage. With a total emotional breakdown, her hands, pressed flat against the wall, clenched into fists, and she sprang forward with unexpected speed, driving her shoulder into Chris’ stomach. No words came from her mouth, only an animalistic snarl as she did her best to defeat her biggest enemy.
She had been a victim for so long. That time was over. They had pushed her mentally and physically, they had beaten her and called her names, they had left her alone and friendless. Now they could deal with the consequences.
Putting all her energy into her rage, Faith kicked out again, catching Chris once more on the shin. His surprise was apparent in the fact that he didn’t immediately retaliate, so Faith launched herself at his leg, grabbing hold and nearly bringing Chris to the ground. In the eerie silence, the two shadows moved about the living room, bumping into the furniture and colliding with the walls. There were no words, no sound at all save for frantic breathing. Jesse looked on with glassy eyes, unable to process what was happening. She felt dizzy and the room seemed to spin about her.
Finally regaining his balance, Chris reached down and grabbed Faith so hard by the hair that she was forced to release her hold on his leg. Enraged that a little girl had nearly gotten the best of him, he literally lifted Faith several feet off the ground by her hair alone, and she screamed in pain, scratching her fingernails along Chris’s bare arms in an attempt to free herself. Surprised again by such ferocity, Chris let Faith drop to the ground, where her head cracked painfully against the floor. She suddenly felt sick, and her eyes wouldn’t focus. Unwilling to stay down and be an easy target, she somehow managed to get to her hands and knees before a fist flashed out of the darkness and connected with the side of her face, sending her sprawling to the ground once more. A trail of blood weaved its way out of her mouth as she lay there, panting, trying to will herself back up. But she had been hurt too badly; her body wouldn’t respond to the commands of her dazed mind. She spit up some blood onto the carpet as she curled into a ball. She wanted to call for Jesse again. She wanted to get up under her own power and fight back. But her mouth was filled with her own blood, and her mind was ablaze with pain. The carpet felt oddly soothing, softer than the blow she had just received.
Chris finally spoke as he reared back his leg, getting ready for a kick. “I’ll teach you to fight me, you little piece of shit!” With that, he kicked Faith squarely in the back, causing her to give a horrible cry of pain in response. Her eyes were screwed shut so tightly that her tears were unable to escape, and she merely gave a small moan of agony. “Not so tough now, are you?” Chris taunted, getting ready to kick again.
Faith wrapped one arm around her head and put the other over her back, but the blow never came. The last thing she heard before she passed out was Jesse’s voice screaming something in the darkness.
The next morning, Faith struggled to open her eyes against a searing pain that raked barbed wire across her mind. Eventually giving up and going back into her pitch black world, she yawned and immediately regretted it; her jaw ached as if it had been crushed with a sledgehammer. Even her teeth ached, a dull pain that would certainly have given her a headache if she didn’t already have one. Unfortunately, she remembered the events of last night with crystal clarity, when she would prefer to just forget the whole ordeal and force herself to believe that perhaps she had simply fallen down some stairs. That was certainly a much nicer scenario than the one she had to live with.
Slowly, she ran her small hands over her face, feeling the painful bruises and cuts. Upon further inspection, she noticed that the inside of her mouth was cut nearly to shreds, a result of the powerful blow she had taken directly to the face. Her teeth must have literally ripped into the skin of her cheeks, which would explain the blood she remembered spitting onto the floor as she had lain there, helpless, against an enemy she could not possibly hope to defeat. She knew that she had made matters worse by fighting back against Chris, but she didn’t care. Yes, she had taken a terrible beating, but she was still breathing, and soon, she would be standing.
Finally snapping her eyes fully open, ignoring the impulse to immediately close them again, Faith rolled over and was instantly frozen in place by a scorching pain that shot up her spine, obviously caused by the vicious kick that Chris had given her. Part of her wanted to go into the bathroom and see how bad she really looked, and part of her was a little afraid of the dead little girl that might stare back, a bloody, bruised shell of the Faith she used to be. Once more, she felt the familiar anger building, an anger that was much more useful than the despair she could have felt if she had had any real emotions left. With a grimace, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and got to her feet in one smooth movement that did little to express the utter agony she was experiencing. As much as she wanted to go back to bed, to lie down again on the soft, inviting mattress, she forced herself to stand upright without swaying, despite the pain.
Outside, she could see that the sky had fittingly decided to snow its heart out all over Boston, sending the sun running for cover and blanketing the entire city in a thick sheet of pristine, perfect white. Sunny days were gone, blue skies were gone. Faith remembered a poem she had read in class before Winter Break, and she silently mouthed the final lines to herself.
It looked as if a night of dark intent was coming, and not only a night, an age. Someone had better be prepared for rage…
If there was to be an age of darkness, there was little she could do about it, being only ten years old and somewhat helpless, but she would do everything in her power to survive. And not only survive, but conquer. Her right hand clenched into a trembling fist as she considered the slowly drifting snowflakes. So unique. So oblivious.
So pointless.
Finally tiring of watching the world, Faith took tiny steps to her door, and only then did she realize that she had not walked to her room under her own power last night. Had Jesse really cared enough to pick up her own bleeding daughter and place her on the bed? Faith would be touched if she could summon enough energy to care, but her mother’s effort was too little, too late. She could have made a difference a thousand times over, but she had waited and she had watched, never coming close enough to make Faith feel anything but disappointment. However, despite not really wanting to, Faith did feel thankful that Jesse had saved her from any further injuries.
Pulling the door open, Faith stepped into a disaster of decor. The couch was upside down, the coffee table was resting against the television set, and chairs in the kitchen were overturned. It looked like a war zone, or at least an area where two burly men had wrestled each other to the death, not a scene where a young girl had literally fought for her life against someone infinitely more powerful. Still feeling like one big bruise, Faith allowed herself to sit down on the floor. She saw bloodstains on the carpet, blood that had undoubtedly come from her own mouth, her own face. The stains could never be removed; they were permanent. She almost laughed when she considered what strangers might think when they considered the blood-splattered carpeting. Would they ask where it had come from? Would they stand and wonder what accident had caused such a mess? Whatever they did, they would probably never realize the terror that those stains represented, a driving, unconscious terror that Faith was to carry with her for the rest of her life.
Getting back up, with no intention of trying to fix the hellhole that was the living room, she stood up and gingerly stretched, being careful not to hurt herself in the process. Almost ready to face her reflection in the mirror, she began walking towards the bathroom, but then her eye spotted a white envelope near the door, one that had apparently been pushed underneath sometime during the night or early morning. Curious as to who had left it, she picked it up and saw her own name in pretty handwriting. She tried to think of someone who would go to so much trouble to give her a letter, but she gave up after several seconds of half-hearted pondering and simply tore the envelope open, somewhat eager to read whatever was inside.
After a minute or so, Faith let the letter fall to the floor. She went to get some clothes for the new day, moved into the bathroom, and shut the door. The letter had been from Lindsay Matthews.
Faith,
I have been unexpectedly called back to England. A crisis is shaping up over there, involving vampires and a few other things I did not have the chance to tell you about. I wish I could stay, but I have to go. Take care of yourself, remember what I taught you, and hopefully I will see you again someday soon.
Sincerely,
Lindsay Matthews
As the steam filled the bathroom and the warm water cascaded down, Faith didn’t know why these things kept happening to her. It wasn’t like she had greatly depended on Lindsay for much, only having met with her a single time to discuss the vampire, but Lindsay had been the only decent adult role model in Faith’s life, and now she was thousands of miles away, unreachable in another country. Who would she be able to go to now if something bad happened? Certainly her mother would be a terrible choice, and her fourth grade teacher probably couldn’t help. Sighing, she stared at the ceiling and felt that perhaps crying might help her release some tension, but she just didn’t have enough emotion within her anymore to warrant tears. The water stung the marks on her face and back, but the pain was better than feeling the emptiness inside.
The days continued to pass, leaving Faith in their wake. School was almost upon her again, and she was looking forward to having an actual excuse to get away from the apartment and all the negative feelings it brought her. At least at school she could have something to distract her always-busy mind; it would give her a focus that she had sorely missed of late. Being alone was fine, up to a certain point, but after that, it became a mental chore to constantly face the same tired silence day in and day out, the same monotonous white walls within the same boring apartment within the same stupid building. Faith wanted out. When Jesse was around, she wouldn’t even look her daughter in the eye. It might have had something to do with the fact that Faith still looked atrocious, with bruises up and down her face, or it may have been pure, undiluted indifference. Faith didn’t know, and she really didn’t care.
Finally, in early January, a mere day before school was to start again, with snow placidly falling outside, Faith was watching her nightly TV programs when the front door opened. She didn’t even acknowledge Jesse as she walked through the door, but she did express surprise on her face when someone else came inside, too, calmly closing the door behind him.
And it wasn’t Chris.
Jesse caught Faith staring at the newcomer, and she gave the sort of extremely exhausted smile that only she could produce as she regarded her daughter. The bruises were gone now, and Faith looked just like any other little brown-haired girl, wearing the new outfit that Jesse had purchased for her birthday.
“Faith, this is Joey. Come say hi.” Jesse motioned for Faith to get off the couch.
Still stunned at this new development, Faith just sat still and continued to stare. The TV was forgotten. Whoever this Joey person was, he didn’t bear a shred of resemblance to Chris, and Faith was inclined to give him some points just for that. Whereas Chris wore a military haircut and always stood rigidly upright, Joey had shaggy brown hair and stood with his hands easily in his jean pockets. He rocked back and forth a bit on his heels, waiting for Faith to acknowledge him. A black jacket with a few random holes was tied around his waist, and he was wearing a red t-shirt with some sort of logo on it.
Glancing over at Jesse, Joey said, “You didn’t tell me your daughter was a mute.” Turning his attention back to Faith, he walked around the little coffee table and crouched down. He put on his best smile and held out his hand, apparently expecting Faith to grab it and give it a big shake. “My name’s Joey, kiddo. Nice to meet you.”
Faith’s cynicism was so ingrained in her mind that she had trouble trusting anyone at this point, let alone a complete stranger that her mom dragged home, but something about Joey’s demeanor made her feel safe. Cautiously, she stretched out her tiny hand and put it in Joey’s.
“Hi,” she quietly said, taking her hand back.
“Not very talkative, huh?” Joey reached up and scratched his head, brown hair flying everywhere. Then his eyes lit up, and he grabbed something from his pocket. “Okay, how about this?”
Watching somewhat intently, Faith saw Joey move his empty right hand back and forth in front of her, for some reason that she couldn’t understand. Then he took his hand, put it behind her ear, and suddenly he had a quarter! It was one of the simplest children’s tricks, but no one had ever done it for Faith before, and she was enthralled.
“Look, a quarter!” Joey exclaimed, acting surprised. Behind him, Jesse smiled. Faith’s mouth dropped open slightly, and she touched her ear, trying to figure out where the quarter had mysteriously appeared from.
“You can do magic?” she excitedly asked. She had seen magicians on TV once or twice, but she had never met anyone who could do it. With a grin, she moved closer to Joey and said, “Do it again!”
Pleased that Jesse’s daughter was beginning to come alive, Joey put the quarter on the coffee table and miraculously performed the same feat again, producing a half-dollar this time. Faith snatched it from Joey’s hand almost before he had a chance to show it to her. She turned it over, examining it.
“Wow, a fifty-cent coin!” she said, grinning. Her brown eyes were animated, displaying none of the lifelessness that they were so recently accustomed to showing. “Thanks!”
“No problem, kiddo.” Joey stood up, and Faith noticed that he was a little shorter and a bit thinner than Chris. Definitely less intimidating. “Maybe we can play a game later or something, yeah?”
Still clutching her new coins, Faith nodded from her seat on the couch.
“Joey will be staying here for a while,” Jesse said, putting her arm around her new man’s waist. “So try to be nice, okay?”
“Sure, mom.”