Room 417, Tuesday Morning
Jan. 27th, 2009 12:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
iamnotallgirlOn Monday night, Jill went to sleep.
On Tuesday morning, Jack woke up.
He'd looked at the ceiling for at least a minute, slow and sleepy, when he realized it wasn't the same ceiling he'd woken up to every day he'd existed and sat up, suddenly fully awake, to look at the rest of the room. "What have you done, Jill?" he wondered aloud, and went digging for her memories: the hair-cutting incident (he had no regrets), typical Jill freakout, she'd kissed Raimie and he wasn't forgiving her for that, Raimie was his, dammit, and then--suddenly the way their mom had been acting during Jill's last cycle made sense, because right after the last bout of Jacktime she'd sprung it on her. Boarding school. A 'special' boarding school. And Jill, like the passive little bitch she was, had just gone along with it.
And here he was.
"Oh, Jill. What have you done?"
He scrambled out of bed and found the note, sitting on top of a jar of peanut butter. Chunky, again. She knew he liked smooth, and yet it was always chunky.
He read the note twice, snorting at her drama queen crossout the first time, before he realized what was written between the lines. Jill was telling him not to leave the room, which meant...maybe he could. He tested the door and found that, yes, it would unlock and open, and that he could step out into the hall of a dormitory. Already this was the best day ever.
He went back into the room to get dressed. He had clothes, shoved into a corner of one of Jill's dresser drawers: a couple of t-shirts, a pair of jeans. Their mother hadn't approved of him spending his time naked. He didn't have shoes, though. There had been a pair of Chucks once, but he'd outgrown them. Neither did he have a coat or anything suitable for winter wear, since he was never meant to go outside. But Jill's debit card should fix that plus his breakfast problem, if he could tough it out long enough to get into town. Which he absolutely could. No way he was eating chunky peanut butter if he didn't have to.
When he was as ready as he could get, Jack opened the door and for the first time in his life without fear or subterfuge stepped out into the world. He hoped it was ready for him.
On Tuesday morning, Jack woke up.
He'd looked at the ceiling for at least a minute, slow and sleepy, when he realized it wasn't the same ceiling he'd woken up to every day he'd existed and sat up, suddenly fully awake, to look at the rest of the room. "What have you done, Jill?" he wondered aloud, and went digging for her memories: the hair-cutting incident (he had no regrets), typical Jill freakout, she'd kissed Raimie and he wasn't forgiving her for that, Raimie was his, dammit, and then--suddenly the way their mom had been acting during Jill's last cycle made sense, because right after the last bout of Jacktime she'd sprung it on her. Boarding school. A 'special' boarding school. And Jill, like the passive little bitch she was, had just gone along with it.
And here he was.
"Oh, Jill. What have you done?"
He scrambled out of bed and found the note, sitting on top of a jar of peanut butter. Chunky, again. She knew he liked smooth, and yet it was always chunky.
He read the note twice, snorting at her drama queen crossout the first time, before he realized what was written between the lines. Jill was telling him not to leave the room, which meant...maybe he could. He tested the door and found that, yes, it would unlock and open, and that he could step out into the hall of a dormitory. Already this was the best day ever.
He went back into the room to get dressed. He had clothes, shoved into a corner of one of Jill's dresser drawers: a couple of t-shirts, a pair of jeans. Their mother hadn't approved of him spending his time naked. He didn't have shoes, though. There had been a pair of Chucks once, but he'd outgrown them. Neither did he have a coat or anything suitable for winter wear, since he was never meant to go outside. But Jill's debit card should fix that plus his breakfast problem, if he could tough it out long enough to get into town. Which he absolutely could. No way he was eating chunky peanut butter if he didn't have to.
When he was as ready as he could get, Jack opened the door and for the first time in his life without fear or subterfuge stepped out into the world. He hoped it was ready for him.
