The little girl was precise in her movements, her eyes sharp and hands steady, unshaking. She had placed herself down on the bed, on top of her pink blanket, and looked down upon Jasper as he slowly ate, feeling every twinge in his jaw as he chewed the rapidly softening food.
They did not speak to each other, as they did before, and Jasper distantly wondered if he was going to even be able to finish the bowl with the way he was feeling.
The girl's face did not change, as she fed him, single-mindedly dedicated to her task, but as her legs began shift, and she started to rock forwards and backwards, swirling the spoon in the milk while she waited for him to chew, Jasper could tell she was getting bored.
"What's your name?" he asked, attempting to alleviate the awkward silence.
Back before when he was like this, he remembered staunchly trying to push everyone away from him, crying and screaming, a
Lila eventually stood up and left the room. The bowl was eventually taken from the dresser and out of the room. The sun, visible through his visible, eventually dropped below the horizon, taking all its light out of the room.Lila eventually stood up and left the room. The bowl was eventually taken from the dresser and out of the room. The sun, visible through his visible, eventually dropped below the horizon, taking all its light out of the room.But by then, Jasper had fallen asleep, his consciousness floating into the land of dreams, and out of the room.All he could see was Emmet. He saw Emmet's swirling oceanic hues. He saw Emmet's dark, long tresses. He saw the defined slope of his nose, and angular cheek bones. He was his pale, gleaming skin. He saw Emmet smiling at him, laughing, and reaching out towards him to bring him into a hug.Jasper opened his eyes, and looked up to the white ceiling.
Fantasy was comfortable and a way to escape the dread of everyday life. It was easier to think you were strong and powerful, than admitting that you were weak. It was so much easier to pretend that you were some sort of lone wolf warrior than a weak man, bruised and broken after so many failed ventures, trying to uselessly appease your own bruised and broken ego all the while.That's the truth, isn't it.Life is hard, and its painful to face that suffering head on. You need to be able to look away, to explain that suffering away, to belittle it, to pretend that it isn't there, just so you can justify your own inaction.So why do we enjoy tragedy and sadness so much?Why are you even here?It can't be the world building considering its so shoddily done by all metrics, only really tossed in when the author remembers that she needs to explain herself. It can't be the characters. They're pretty much all author
Maybe it didn't matter having a last name. Maybe it didn't matter having a proper person to be or identity. There was nothing for him after all.Did he even deserve the name Jasper?Red_Two, as a name, was wasted on him, as the useless man who ran away without doing anything worthy for anything.No.Last names didn't matter.Names didn't matter at all.Not to him anyway.Jasper was dead, and he died with Emmet."I don't have one," the now nameless man mumbled out, before quickly realising that the man may not be able to hear his quiet voice.The bearded man gave a great bellowing laugh, all his limbs moving along with the action as he threw his head back in delight. His voice boomed across the room, and his chest bulged out as if it struggled to contain al
"I should go home," the bandaged man gulped out, breathing in and as out, as slowly as he could to the counts of five.The bearded man blinked, eyes wide and slack jawed at the reaction.You like that you bearded bastard?! I can flick between moods too, you know! You're not the only one who can do that fucking stupid trick! What does it feel like, to get a taste of your own medicine, you confusing bastard?!The bandaged man wondered whether he should actually ask what a crayon was or not, as the bearded man gave another bellowing laugh, tipping his head back once more as he did so.The bandaged man blinked in annoyance and scowled silently as he waited for the other to finish his now seemingly hysterical, never ending series of giggles. The bastard just kept fucking giggling, as if he was the happiest man in the world, something the bandaged man knew for a fact wasn't true at all, seeing the outline
Jasper led on Lila's bed as she played pretend with the same tea party set with the same re-appropriated box from before.New pretend chairs were set up with two plastic bowls turned upside down. One held up a wooden spoon, leaning on the table, decorated by long, pink string hair and plastic eyes stuck on the front, the other a plastic cup, also turned upside down, with drawn on eyes and a giant, happy smile.It was an uncomfortably wide smile too, reaching all across the front and side, curved upwards and without any hitch or wobble in the stroke. The eyes were perfectly round too, as if traced onto the cup, looking too perfect and happy, in the cold silence of the room.The plastic cutlery rattled and gave cheap clicks as Lila herself, sitting on an upturned metal bowl instead of plastic, said metal bowl sitting slightly shorter than the plastic bowls, but still keeping her taller than the spoon and cup.
"Why aren't you mad at me?"Lila peeked out from before the door the next day, at 8:00 PM the next morning. Her face was half hidden in shadows, the first sight of her that Jasper had seen since the day prior.Jasper shifted his neck towards the door, his dull silver eyes turning towards her. He could barely move, his muscles creaking and aching with the moment. Lila's mother had arrived to feed him and move his muscles through exercises to prevent muscle atrophy.She had a sinister smile throughout the whole process, and Jasper could see where Lila had learned her own hollow expression, but something was hidden behind her mother's smile. Whenever she looked down at him, Jasper had the distinct idea that she wasn't seeing him, but somebody else's face had superceeded his own and was inhabiting the space designated for his, in her mind.Her movements were maechanical and her hands were cold, flinching
"Lila. There are a few things, that I need you to know. I can... I understand you. I can't get mad at you. Because, if I did, it would mean that I'm- that... that I've, no. If I get angry at you, it only means that I understand nothing. I've learned nothing. That I've spent my entire life, not learnt anything about myself, or the world around me," Jasper stuttered out in the loudest and most confident voice he was able to manage, trying to ignore all the places where he wheezed, choked, and wobbled, while watching Lila slip into the room, softly shutting the door behind her and shuffling towards him.Her head faced downwards, some of her hair falling to obscure her face. She wore another frilly dress with another white shirt underneath, and Jasper had to concede that he knew nothing about her as an individual, her image twisted with her mother's.He didn't know if she liked books. If she liked tea parties. If she liked frilly dresses. Or why she liked them. If she was
By the sun was sinking under the horizon, many tears had been shed. The two, small, wounded people on the bed had now found themselves in companiable silence, with the occasional sniffles, softly breaking through the silence, which eventually asserted itself again.They breathed hard together, both of them, matching each other with the count of five, only differing with the heaviness of their gasps for air.At every beginning of a small, quiet period, there was a tiny uprise in tears, further soaking the pink blanket, dying it crimson for the afternoon and evening.Jasper felt lighter, as if something had been lifted from his chest, and is if he could finally force his legs into a weak twitch, following the instructions of his brain for the first time in forever, and crane his neck whichever way he could, the only part of him not shattered. His hand was the warmest part of him, clutched by Lila, as she held onto him, pulling at his skin and hoping.Prayin