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“Did you miss what happened tonight? They know I’m here. I can’t stay.”
“Don’t leave,” she says quietly. I almost can’t hear the words leave her mouth.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I can try to help.”
“Why would you help me?”
“Because my goddamn brain is broken! You’re unhinged, but I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the party. You make me feel alive, and I want to know everything about you. Maybe you were right. Maybe we were made for each other.”
“How could you help me?” I ask, trying to refrain from showing that her words mean anything to me.
How does she want me?
“I don’t know. We can dye your hair and cut it. I don’t know.”
“Baby, I have a scar on my face. You can’t hide me,” I tell her. Luna’s hands ball into fists in her lap.
“It’s not fair.”
“What’s not?”
“You went to prison for something that should have been self-defense. What happened that broke you, Jax?” My shoulders fall from the weight of her question. Why does she fucking care?
I’ve pushed her around, threatened her friend, and forced myself onto her. Even if she was willing to take it and wanted it, I’m never respectful. I never take a moment to consider if the way I fuck her, the way I try to make her feel good, actually causes her any pain.
Hell, I broke down her mental walls while fucking her. I’ve left her items in her apartment and made her feel like she wasn’t safe. I might not give a fuck, but why does she?
“Why do you care? I mean it. Why?”
“I don’t know!” She exclaims once more as she throws her hands into the air. Her still bare tits bounce with the motion, and I have to strain myself to look away.
“Someone talked badly about my mother. We fought. He got the upper hand and stabbed me in the face,” I tell her.
“Why would they do that?”
“Prison is a wondrous place, baby,” I retort. “No one cares about you in there. They barely care for themselves.” I try to illustrate to her what it’s like there, how it’s a cold and dark place that leaves no room for friends. You’re alone and left to your own demise, your own suffering. Not a soul cares about you.
“I wonder what you were like before.”
“Ask my mom. I’m sure she’d love to talk about it,” I joke.
“The woman who yelled your name? The one with red hair? You have her eyes, now that I think about it.” I nod at her. “She’s beautiful. You must get your looks from her,” she adds. I do, mostly. I have her eyes and nose but my father’s hair and face structure. I’m perfectly merged between the two of them.
“She really is. I disappointed her.”
“I’m sure she’s not disappointed in you,” Luna tries to reassure me. It doesn’t work well because if the last conversation we had was any indication, I have.
“Right,” I whisper instead of giving anything else away. I’ve given enough.
“I’m sorry that things haven’t gone well for you,” Luna tells me.
“I’m leaving, Luna. I want you to have a piece of me before I go,” I say as I unclasp the pendant around my neck. I feel the chain slide down my skin. Leaning forward, I clasp the chain together around Luna’s neck. The pendant falls down between her breasts, and I stare at it wrapped around her. I feel naked, which is funny because I am, but taking this piece of me off feels like I’ve been stripped of everything. I wonder what Mama would say if she knew what I was doing with this necklace.
“What is it?” Luna asks as she rubs the silver between her fingers.
“A gift from my mother when I was a teen. It’s never left my body since the day I put it on,” I admit.
