For Jennie

And like a dying lady, lean and pale,
Who totters forth, wrapp'd in a gauzy veil,
Out of her chamber, led by the insane
And feeble wanderings of her fading brain,
The moon arose up in the murky East,
A white and shapeless mass.

-Percy Bysshe Shelley

. -.

. -.

un.

I noticed the fly on the wall, with the wings that I should have had.

Gossamer, and annoying.

The cuts on my back burned faintly, remembering the touch of man-tampered metal.

The professor’s voice droned on and on, chanting things that we all knew we would never have to remember…

Because it didn’t matter for us.

We were different.

And still, I was even more different from them.

“Pix,” I heard him hiss behind me. “Turn around.”

Harry glanced at me nonchalantly, seeing if I’d bother acknowledging the unpleasant distraction.

I ignored Harry and slowly swiveled my head around to face V.

“What?” I snapped, irritated.

“Shut up,” he said neutrally. “What are you doing tonight?”

I thought of the piano in the auditorium and felt my fingers itch with longing to brush the keys and tell the stories of hundreds of dead geniuses, their messages almost lost to the billions of humans who never bothered to listen, or to learn.

“Practicing.” It came out a whisper, my aggressive front against V already fading.

“Practice with me. I need a pianist for the Saint-Saens.”

An evening with V was like spending the winter alone in a cave with a ravenous bear.

“Why don’t you practice with Mila?”

My words came out bitterly though I had not intended them to be.

His eyebrow arched, with the impossible grace that only his race possessed.

“Sleep well Twiggy?” he goaded.

“Shut up,” I snapped, knowing full well that he knew what I’d lately taken to doing at night.

“Brindille? Is there a problem?” Professor Jinn asked from the front. All eyes turned curiously towards V and I and I felt Harry smirk beside me.

“No sir,” I responded suavely turning towards the front and ignoring V.

He didn’t respond for a moment as we both attempted to ground ourselves in the lesson, but after a minute V persisted again.

“Seven, tonight, in the auditorium. I’ll get your music for you.”

I conveyed my restlessness to the floor.

Still, Harry noticed when my fidgeting interfered with his ankle.

“What’s up?” he whispered.

“Oh. Nothing.” I tried to smile. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing.”

Trapped, that’s what I felt. Trapped, trapped, trapped, trapped by walls, trapped by V, trapped by blood, trapped by insomnia, trapped by no magic, trapped by practice, trapped by tension, trapped by feeling ugly, trapped by feeling unloved, trapped by hunger, trapped by burning, trapped by pain, trapped, trapped, trapped, trapped

And even after avoiding the memory for so long, I remembered another trap, from long ago.

The memory, scratched afresh, cut through me and I shuddered.

Harry was alert now.

“Pix, what’s wrong?” I felt his hand creep closer to mine on the desk.

Cold, not wooden, metal desk.

And for all gods’ sakes, hand. Boy hand.

I snatched mine from the table and stared at my lap.

“It’s nothing, nothing, not a thing,” I murmured, song like, stress pushing me back towards my nature.

I felt Harry’s eyes glance towards V, but he visibly forced them back to me.

“Pix, seriously, what’s wrong? You can tell me.”

He sounded honest, and a part of me wanted to believe him.

(as if you care mr. toad)

I winced inwardly at my hateful thoughts to one of the three people who were decent to me at the Institute. I repressed them (unhealthy, like everything I did) and forced my gaze to the window.

“No, nothing, not a thing. It’s nothing.”

“Miss Brindille!” Professor Jinn’s voice was sharp now. “If you cannot pay attention then I shall have to give you a detention. Would you like that madame?”

I hadn’t heard what he said.

”Of course sir,” I said, doing my best to sound polite and genuine.

I heard V curse behind me and felt the rest of the class stare incredulously in my direction.

Professor Jinn looked straight at me and I resisted the urge to shudder at the faint luminosity of his red eyes.

“Very well then. Tonight, my office, seven o’clock.”

Oh. So that’s what he’d said.

(feces.)

The numbness didn’t subside as class was dismissed. Harry looked at me still sitting there, gazing at my lap. He hesitated before deciding to leave me in peace. He knew I coped with my problems alone.

But V didn’t. And if he did know, then he certainly didn’t care.

“Pix, what the hell? I need a damn pianist! Honestly, what the hell is your problem?”

(i wouldn’t tell you anyway)

He slammed his books on my table, uniform shirt sleeves rolled up to his stark white elbows, towering over me with his hands that looked like death.

Glares. That’s all I’d ever get from V.

That and a senseless sort of stabbing pain in my gut whenever I’d look at him. His grey eyes bored holes into the top of my head and I felt like crying, out of misery and blind fear.

“Nothing V. It’s nothing.” I forced myself to stare straight back at him, forced my voice to not quiver.

He was pissed, his anger completely demolishing whatever tact he possessed when he was in a good mood.

“Quit lying. I can read your scrawny little face like a fucking book, you half-breed.”

Disgusted, he turned and walked away.

I sat there, glad for the numbness that the cold had instilled in me, animosity seeping out from under the covers of V’s books.

Professor Jinn came back into the room and glanced at me.

“Miss Brindille? Honestly, what is the problem?”

I didn’t realize that I had been holding my breath, but it came out with a pitiful gasp; my chest constricted and the urge to cry increased tenfold.

I suppressed it within my chest, like the walls suppressed me.

I shook my head and gathered my bag, never once looking at Professor Jinn.

I went to my room to begin my studies for the evening. The fact that I couldn’t focus held no relevance; discomforted as I was, I knew my mind would soak up everything it read if I fell back on routine.

I glanced at the granite sun dial mounted onto my wooden wall with the titanium nail.

Elements of the earth to feel the sun’s kiss.

It read five twenty-three in the evening. Restless, I pulled my human philosophies book out of my bag.

My eyes looked at ink forming words of human English on the paper made in a human factory, bleached stark white with chemicals. None of the words made any sense at the moment. I only saw letters, and not what they made together. I only saw the rises and falls, lilts and tails of a typewriter’s scrawl, organized to make sense to a system designed by and for humans.

Humans.

The cuts on my back burned again and I unconsciously glanced at the door.

Which knocked.

I didn’t answer immediately, out of shock, but then the knocking grew more insistent.

“Yes?” I asked, voice quavering as it usually did.

“Pix? It’s Jimmy. Let us in, love.”

Jimmy the magician. Always entertaining, always enlightening, but not always there. Except now he was.

I scrambled to my feet and opened the door to let him in.

He grinned, and normally I would have melted at the way the corners of his cheeks tilted upward and his left eyebrow arched ever so slightly.

(pretty little Jimmy)

“Hey,” he said, leaning against the doorway.

“Hi.” I stepped back and gestured for him to come inside.

“So, what’s new? I hear from Harry old Smokes has given you a detention.”

“Yeah. I got distracted and sort of, asked for one. Literally.”

I shut the door after him and he clucked his tongue.

“Shame, shame Twiggy. Wherever is your mind off to these days?”

I tried to smile without any tension, but he noticed my faltering mouth muscles and his grin fell a little bit.

I felt like I’d disappointed him, adding him to the list of people whom I’d let down.

Remorse gripped me like a hand.

“I’m sorry,” I said, looking him in his blue eyes.

“Pix,” he said gently, looking right back at me. “Pix, what’s wrong?”

I was tired of being asked the same question everyday by a different person.

I just shook my head and apologized again. He sat down and gestured toward the bed beside him.

After a moment’s hesitation I joined him and wondered if I’d be risking too much to lean on his shoulders.

“You’ve been so nervous lately Pix. I feel afraid to talk to you, like you’ll burst into tears if I say anything.”

“I’m sorry,” I said softly, not knowing what else to say.

“Stop apologizing, and tell me what’s wrong.”

“I just don’t know Jimmy. I can’t figure out what’s bothering me. It seems like it’s everything. Only nothing has ever bothered me this much before.”

He was silent and I contemplated how pitiful my answer had been.

And even though Jimmy always made me feel like an idiot, he never made it worse.

“I know something that will make you feel better,” he said suddenly, the wide grin returning to light up his face.

“What?” I asked, daring myself to go along with his ruse.

“Come with me. Outside.”

Outside. To the edges of the forest.

I swallowed, thinking about my answer.

He noticed my hesitation. He always noticed.

(Jimmy sees everything.)

“Come on love, you need some fresh air. Besides, I want to show you something.”

I could feel the trees and the leaves and the grass already whispering, threats, endearments and everything in between.

“Please?”

Nobody ever said please. I melted.

He held out his hand and I allowed myself to take it.