Post by 86ed on Jun 6, 2011 0:15:05 GMT -5
[ the prettiness will come someday. ]
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"You're absolutely, positively, one hundred and one percent sure you wanna do it, Maria?" Jim wrung his hands a bit and sped up his walk. Darting out in front of her, he turned to face the twenty something year-old with a concerned expression that, if there were any justice in the world at all, would have won him an Oscar and perhaps sufficient excuse to behave as obnoxiously as he often did when no one of consequence was watching. The girl stopped short, almost tripping over his toes and fixed the demon with a look he knew well enough even before having officially met her three months ago. For living in such a dangerous part of the city, Maria was refreshingly naive. She hadn't noticed him even once four months ago, back when he'd first begun keeping tabs on her and watching out for the telltale signs. And due to her disability, following her from point A to point B had been a piece of Twinkie cake. Walking required so much of her focus, she had very little left to devote to suspecting the worst of people, much less things like him.
Placing hand over heart, Maria took a deep breath and smiled at him uncertainly. "Are you trying to kill me? Don't do that again! You almost made me fall into the road." Casting a sideways glance, Jim shrugged nonchalantly as the cars on the suspension bridge zoomed past with little concern for the two of them standing so close. Turning back to the girl, he wiped the fleeting amusement at her concerns from his features and crossed his arms with false resolution. Fixing her with a stern look, he snorted indignantly at the irony of her complaint. "What difference does it make?" He asked coldly, intentionally allowing his shoulders to shake like a leaf in the wind. "If you're just gonna kill yourself anyway, who cares if I'm the cause? Least if it's me your Mom'll have someone left to blame. Instead of hating herself, she'll hate me. You know she'd never blame you. Not for a second. Even though you're horrible and don't think of anyone other than yourself." Maria bit her lip and lowered her head, but not so much that Jim couldn't make note of the fact that, as he wished, his words managed to hit the mark. A tear ran down her cheek, which she quickly wiped away. Looking back up at him, eyes red with frustration, she cussed.
"Fine." He stepped around her and reclaimed the spot next to her as she began walking once again, further along the bridge toward an objective that wasn't on the other side of it. "But I'm right and you know it. You're just being stupid if you think this'll solve things. Ending isn't solving." Turning her head, Maria chose to look at the foggy dark blue in the distance. "It's just as good." Her voice was small and raspy. The words came out like they had to jump over hurdles to make it past her tongue and through her teeth. "You'll get over it, everyone else too. And then they'll only remember the good. It's always like that when people die." He could read her feelings like a book. For as troubled as she was about her mom and anyone else who actually cared about her, Jim knew that selfishness -or maybe fear of going on- would prevail in the end. He needn't worry too much whether his empty words would actually manage to dissuade her from willfully proceeding in the direction he had been nurturing for quite some time.
"It isn't too windy..." she commented listlessly once they'd made it far enough so that she was sure she would crash into the water rather than the ground. Jim smiled, remembering how she'd told him once that she'd rather drown than splatter. He'd always thought it was strange to have a preference when you'd end up in Hell anyway, but people were funny in general. "No, it's not." he verified. "Guess my hair won't get too messed up." Maria laughed but it was hollow. He wondered why she bothered at all at this point. Her mind was elsewhere and he knew it. "Better chance." She murmured and stopped once more. Casting a quick glance around at their surroundings, she smiled sadly at him with a look so pathetic and needy that it made him want to lose his lunch. "You think I'll make it?" Jim frowned and shook his head. "To heaven? Not a chance. You don't go there if you do it yourself." He reminded her, smiling weakly. Damn it was cold. "No, no." She replied with a furious, almost childish shake of her head. Her black hair billowed out and looked like a sheet hung to dry on a blustery day. Blinking the tears away, Maria sniffed. Jim reached into the pocket of his trench coat and dug out a partially crumpled up McDonald's napkin. She took it but was too distracted to blow her nose. It dripped disgustingly, a faucet of snot, but he held his tongue. "I meant the water. My dad was always afraid of the water. I figure if I can just..."
"You're an idiot." He murmured softly, making a show of how much this would supposedly wound him. In actuality, he kind of just wished she would get it all over with. Hearing all the stories for the hundredth time since they'd met kind of devalued them. Where he once found novelty, now only boring repetition remained. It was almost a service he was doing. No one would ever have to hear such overly sentimental drivel again. Not from her, anyway. If it wouldn't look too suspicious, he thought he might actually try to skip her funeral. "Did you remember the note?" Maybe it was callous, the entire thing was, but he kind of didn't want to have to worry about writing one for her himself letting everyone know what she'd done. "Of course I did." Maria replied with a nod. "How could I forget that, Jimbo?" Good didn't seem like the right response, but he said it anyway because he was in a hurry to have her off. He had things to do after all.
After they'd used the bolt cutters to make a hole in the chain link fence large enough for her to wriggle through, Maria carefully inched her way out. She gripped the fence behind her for support. He couldn't help but roll his eyes at her white knuckles. All that fuss and she was still taking her time? It was all he could do not to push her. But then, he knew he really couldn't. That would make it murder. That slim difference apparently was all that was necessary to get her out of what he intended for her on a technicality. Chewing gently on the inside of his cheek, Jim watched the girl shiver before moving in closer. His body, not much larger than hers, was apparently enough to conceal her from the sight of the drivers. All of their eyes were forward, unconcerned with who the world left behind. What did they care if there was one less hopelessly depressed soul to divide oxygen amongst. Maybe there are bigger monsters... He mused, grinning as she went through the motions of trying to prepare herself. Under her breath he could hear her muttering something cute. Like a bandaid? He had to lightly bite his tongue just to keep himself from bursting into an awkward fit of laughter.
"Bye Jim." The girl said, which soured things. Her voice sounded so pleased, as if all the strength left in her body had gathered beneath the surface of the underlying weakness of the act for one last little poke at his pride. He wanted her broken, not happy. But it didn't matter anymore. Before he could say anything to throw her back into the chaos he felt she deserved, she had already let go. All he saw in front of him was dark water and sky. The clouds were too thick for him to see any stars. Leaning into the fence, he sighed and tried to see down. Above the crash of waves, it was impossible for any human to hear the sound her body made as it hit the desired spot. He smiled and shut his eyes. He wasn't a human, so for him the splash was just as audible as a shout in his ear if he so desired. She'd passed out long before impact, so he thought it unlikely she'd feel a thing. By the time she woke up? Well, she really wouldn't. "Bye Maria." He whispered, and almost felt happier for her than he did for himself. Even if you were a demon, being the one left behind was always harder. Sometimes he feared he actually did grieve for them, all his sad little mortal friends with no place in their own world to belong. But when the initial gloominess subsided he always came to understand that it was only the space their sadness had temporarily filled that he missed. Now he'd have to find someone else.