The Price we Pay [Luke]

pthalorarity
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The Price we Pay [Luke] Jun 1, 2012 3:45:19 GMT -5

Post by pthalorarity on Jun 1, 2012 3:45:19 GMT -5

All I ever wanted was the world
I can't help that I need it all

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With the coming of fall and the changing of seasons simply came a wave of new parties for the Morgans to host and attend. Upon this night was a formal to celebrate the harvest moon. Really, it was just an excuse for all of the high society citizens to get together, drink and schmooze. It was certainly not like there was actually any harvesting going on in District One, and even more certainly, none of this particular bunch would have been participating in such physical labor.

Jem turned to a passing waiter and swiped his fourth or fifth glass of champagne from the tray the man had been holding. He wasn’t paying attention to just how much of the bubbly stuff he was consuming and he had raided his mother’s liquor cabinet before the event; all that mattered was that he got either drunk enough to not care or too drunk to remember the evening. To his misfortune, his favorite member of society was there a guest at the function—Rhen Rutherford. Really, Rhen had been at these things all along, but in past months his presence had become far more noticeable, and quite frankly, un-ignorable. He had already made eye contact with the overgrown brute once this evening, and he was going to make sure he didn’t have the misfortune again if he could help it.

He floated through the crowds, or at least, that’s how he felt with he mind light with the champagne. He smiled and waved lazily to guests as they called out to him. A couple of his former conquests gave him subtle winks or nods, but with Rhen clouding his focus, he hardly had that sort of business on the brain. All that mattered was that Rhen hated him, and he had to hate him in return. Speaking of… there he was again, entering the same parlor as Jem, but before he could react and calculate his situation, he felt a rough hand catch onto his, tightening his grip around the champagne glass. He hadn’t even realized he’d almost dropped it.

“Careful there, Jem. Someone might get the idea that you’re drunk,” a deep voice spoke as a figure slightly taller than him stepped fully into his view.

“Oh… Hi, Gray,” Jem said loftily and he looked up into the young man’s silver eyes. He was a trainer at Jem’s new gym, and he’d caught the guy staring at him on multiple occasions before. He was in his late twenties; your typical former career trainee who never got Reaped and had enough money to not worry about a job, so he moved into training for the fun of it. Jem moved to pull his arm away but gray simply adjusted his grip, pulling in closer to the mayor’s son.

“How much have you had to drink?” Gray inquired with a smirk. He had a slight dimple in his left cheek, which Jem supposed many people would find attractive. To be honest, he had bigger fish to fry than some trainer at a career factory though.

Jem blinked and shook his head, trying to shake off the dizziness, “I don’t know. Why does it matter?” As he looked forward trying to read Gray’s expression, he realized it wasn’t so easy to keep his focus at the moment. Well, he was further along the way to his drunken goal than he had thought.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Gray said moving in closer, still smiling, “how are you going to manage training tomorrow morning, little Jem-stone?” He brought a hand up to Jem’s cheek and lightly brushed the back of his finger along his jawline. Jem couldn’t help but twitch, recoiling from Gray’s touch. “Oh come on now, Jem, you’re far too pretty to be drinking away your problems. There are so many better ways to let off some steam.”

Jem downed the rest of his glass and passed it off to someone walking past. He wasn’t even sure they were a waiter, but they were in white shirt and tie, so that said waiter to him. He turned back to his odd pursuer and rolled his eyes, “Look, I don’t know what you’re getting at, but I have people to se—“

Gray let out a laugh, “What’s the matter Jem, don’t you find me attractive?” When Jem merely shrugged in response, Gray moved in far too close for Jem’s general comfort of personal space and whispered into his ear, “of course, the way I hear it, attraction has nothing to do with it for you, does it?”

Jem’s bright green eyes grew wide for a moment, before he regained his composure. Despite his calm exterior however, his voice clearly panicked. “Gray, you’re drunk and don’t know what you’re saying. I’ll see you later.” He turned to walk away but felt the rough hand grab his wrist to pull him back around. It was an aggressive maneuver, but not enough to draw any attention in the party crowd. “Oh, I think you’re much drunker Jem-stone.” He leaned into Jem’s ear whispering while his lips grazed Jem’s skin. “I’ve heard all about the real Games you like to play Jem… ironically from both an aunt an uncle of mine… it could be a shame if word continued to spread though…” Gray feigned surprise, slightly gasping, “imagine what mother mayor would think!”

Nostrils flared, Jem took in a deep breathe through his nose. He felt as if his stomach had literally just done backflip as the world seemed to crackle and shatter around him. He had been so discreet, and so careful… how could something like this have happened? What the hell would he do if his mother did find out? Well, the game was already in play, and it was one he could not afford to lose. “What do you want from me?”

“Well,” Gray said quietly, his voice filled with condescending triumph, “This is your place, I’m sure you have a bedroom here don’t you?”

Jem’s eyelashes tickled his cheeks as he closed his eyes for a moment, taking in another deep breath. The room wobbled as if he was out to sea as his eyelids flutter back open and his view upon Gray cleared. He knew there wasn’t much choice. It was do as he asked, or face dire consequences. What could one more notch on the belt be at this point, he supposed. Jem sighed and then whispered, his speech slightly slurred, “Up the grand staircase and to the left. The large green double doors go to my room… it’s the one with the balcony. Meet me there in ten.”

With an approving smile from Gray, it took every muscle in Jem’s face not to sneer or snarl. He quickly began making his way to the foyer, grabbing another glass of champagne to down on the way. His body already burned and ached with loathing for bot himself and the young man Gray who had hardly drawn Jem’s eye at all in the gym. It just went to further his point; all men and women are pigs. This guy didn’t even know him, yet he was blackmailing him into the forbidden act… it certainly wasn’t a night to raise Jem’s already lackluster expectations in humanity.

After stumbling his way into his room, Jem quickly shredded most of his clothing, not wanting to give Gray that privilege or satisfaction. So he sat upon the edge of his own fluffy bed, waiting in his briefs in the darkness. Light trickled in from the windows of his wall of French doors to the balcony. His gaze was drawn to the outside, to the freedom of whatever might be beyond. That was why played this little game though, wasn’t it? To find some secret ticket or key to the world out there, to the Capitol… to freedom?

Before long, Gray stumbled into the room himself; he was drunker than Jem had originally realized, but then again, Jem was in no position to judge on that. Gray wasted no time in unbuttoning his shirt and stripping down before pouncing onto Jem, forcing his lips roughly against the unwilling exploit. He threw Jem back into the headboard and held him tightly by his wrists… to tightly for comfort—not that anything about this situation was comfortable.

With every kiss, and ever touch, Jem felt whatever glimmers of dignity or self-respect he may have had somewhere get ripped away. Gray was taking what little spirit he had left, and there was nothing he could do about it. He knew far too well he had gotten himself into his own mess, and he would have to lay her and take it like a man. Gray pressed harder against him, squeezing Jem’s wrists as he told him to enjoy it, constantly bragging about how good he was and how many people he had pleased. He went on to say he’d been admiring Jem at the gym and longed for this moment. What the hell? A moment where he blackmailed a teenager into pleasing him? Jem felt as if he could vomit… whether it was from these moments or the alcohol, he wasn’t sure… and after what felt like hours, it was over and Gray was tripping over himself to put his clothes back on.

“See you at the gym,” Gray said with an all too familiar, knowing grin as he slid out of Jem’s bedroom door and back to the party. He had left looking quite a mess though; ruffled hair and sloppily buttoned shirt, but Jem didn’t dare speak. All he could do was shudder at the thought of seeing Gray again… having to go back to the gym. Sure, he had stomached some pretty disgusting moments in his couple of years as he fell into these sordid sorts of affairs… but there had never been a moment like tonight… never a time when Jem was not still in control of himself, of the situation. He could feel the warm wetness of a tear as it rolled down his cheek. He tried to stifle a sniffle as he slide down to the edge of his bed and onto the hard tile floors of his grand bedroom. He could bear to feel those sheets or pillows now. There was no comfort or warmth in them, only a strange, new sick memory.

He curled into a ball after managing to pull on a pair of gym shorts that had been strewn on the floor beside his bed earlier that day. He held his knees tightly to his chest, trembling in the light of the moon through his windows. Tears continued to roll down his cheeks. Tears of regret… tears of disgust… and tears of sorrow; sorrow for the loss of the young boy he once was, or might have been—the boy that was lost the moment he had consented to let that first woman touch him, and he opened the door that would lead him to the right here and now. For now he was merely a shell without self-respect, love, or a spec of hope to believe in.

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The Price we Pay [Luke] Jun 5, 2012 19:16:08 GMT -5

Post by cyrus on Jun 5, 2012 19:16:08 GMT -5

Another Fall, another batch of functions to attend. It meant hobnobbing with the elite, as usual, fawning over their decorations, their lovely homes, and their s—t-eatting-grins as they explained when something was very expensive. It was all the same to me, having to go to these awful, tedious, boring, life wasting events. I was still too young to escape into the business world, and far too young—and disinterested—in following my sister’s footsteps into the realm of law for that to be an option. And so here I was again, drifting into the party with a somber look on my face and a how-do-you-do, hovering behind my parents like a ghost, intent on fading into the shadows. This was H—l.

To make matters worse, the event of course had to be held in Jem Morgan’s household. It wasn’t like I was unnerved by being around Jem. I mean, he was the f—ker that wouldn’t give up in the gym. He was the one that had thought it a good idea to try and make a fool out of me in front of the entire gym. I had nothing to be ashamed of, other than the stern talking to I happened to get afterward. I also had apparently raised a few eyebrows for attacking the Morgan boy—that was what was worse—that all pinned me as a troublemaker and a social liability. So now on top of having to go to a ghastly boring event, I couldn’t even get the old codgers to stand around me long enough to make fun of them. They would extend as much of a courtesy of saying hello before shifting onto some other target.

My self-imposed social exile was enough for me, but I never intended for it to transfer into actual social exile. And all over the stupid fight I was having with a boy. I had grown sloppy. I would never have let the carnal feelings I had towards someone—this strange interest—transfer over and let me get distracted the way I had with Jem. He was infuriating, but in a way that made me only want to infuriate him right back. He was a boy that probably thought nothing more than how he was going to use this party in his next step toward Ripred-Knows-What. I was intent on making this night memorable for him—after all, he was the one that had started everything—and so I spent much of my time looking for the Jem of District One.

The expansive rooms and hallways were dotted with dignitaries, but even after downing a healthy amount of champagne I was still able to find Jem. I weaved my way through the crowd, trying to cut him off at the pass, but some light music started and I was blocked by two chattering young women—no doubt eyeing me to dance—and I grunted in frustration. As soon as I turned my head, I saw him heading toward the staircase with—wasn’t that one of the trainers from my gym? I pondered for a moment. I could see an exchange, and they were off. Oh, this was too good. Was little boy Jem being naughty with one of his guests at this party? Was he really so dumb as to slip off and try something like this when all the guests were down below?

I would have to wait, of course. I didn’t want to walk on in a deed half-finished. I would bide my time and strike while the iron was still hot, and then have the last laugh over Jem Morgan. He deserved to be shamed after the trouble he’d decided to cause me. I drank a few other glasses in the meantime, wandering and listening to whispers of the party. It was a nice evening, after all. I could enjoy my time, even if it were alone. But this was going to be so much sweeter than what I could have imagined. I down another glass of champagne and felt a giddiness that came with alcohol. The bubbles went straight to my head, and I laughed as I made my way toward the stairs.

As I rounded a corner, I realized that I had been too slow in my attempt—damn it—and was nearly bulldozed by Gray. I slid against the wall, giving a snort as he stumbled by in a hurry. I leisurely made my way toward Jem’s door and stand in front of it for a moment. This is going to be good. This is going to be great, this is going to be… Without hesitation I wrenched open the door, stepping into his room with a wide-eyed grin on my face.

“Well now Jemmifer, have we been having…” But it all stopped upon seeing Jem curled into a ball on his bed. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, right now. Was he… was he okay? My voice carried through the room and at last I finish what I’ve come to say. “…fun?” It’s all I can get out, for now. My mouth hangs open for a moment, and I look back out the door, stupidly.

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pthalorarity
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The Price we Pay [Luke] Jun 6, 2012 21:49:35 GMT -5

Post by pthalorarity on Jun 6, 2012 21:49:35 GMT -5

All I ever wanted was the world
I can't help that I need it all

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A shudder ran through Jem’s body on the floor as he heard his bedroom door swing back open. He was worried it might be Gray deciding to come back for a second round, but when his guest spoke he could feel the color drain from his face. It was not Gray; it was worse… it was Rhen, the last person Jem wanted to see him like this. He was in his purest state of vulnerability, curled in a ball in nothing but his underwear… crying. Why had Rhen come up here anyway? With a horrible thought, Jem realized exactly why… he must have seen Gray come up to his room. He wasn’t sure whether it was from the champagne or this turn of events, but he felt as if he might throw up.

Jem allowed himself another sniffle before slowly sitting upright. He kept his head down though, both fighting the nausea as well as too unnerved to meet the boy who hated him in the eye. He swallowed back the lump in his throat in an attempt to make his voice stronger, but it still cracked when he spoke. “Have you come to gloat? To tell me I’m a whore?” Jem could feel his abdomen contract as the word escaped his lips and another tremble erupted throughout his slender build. Tears continued to sting his eyes before rolling down his cheeks. It took every muscle in his chest to stifle the sobs that yearned to break the silence in the room. Why did Rhen have to do this now of all times; what little spirit Jem had left was just broken and here stood a boy who could shatter the remains without breaking a sweat.

His green eyes flickered to his bed for a moment, debating grabbing a sheet to cover himself. He didn’t dare move toward it however, for he couldn’t bring himself to get back in that bed, let alone touch the sheets… it was all just a vivid reminder of the shame he had just endured. He had been playing a delicate game all along, but now, he had finally lost. He turned to look at Rhen, but within a moment of meeting his dark eyes, Jem’s gaze faltered back to the floor. “Well go ahead, it’s your dream come true… I'm sitting here crying… go ahead and say what you want. You can win; I won’t even fight back.”

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The Price we Pay [Luke] Jun 12, 2012 18:10:28 GMT -5

Post by cyrus on Jun 12, 2012 18:10:28 GMT -5

It was supposed to be a moment of glory and conquest. It was the kind of thing that I usually sought after like a hungry animal. Here it was, Jem Morgan, reduced to tears, completely at the end of his rope, humiliated. It was though he had already been ashamed of what he’d done, and now he was going to get slammed again by me, his most fearsome enemy. So, this is the moment. Go ahead, go ahead and tuant him. He’s just waiting for it. This could be the best blow ever! There I stood in his doorway, looking at one pathetic, insignificant Jem Morgan. I took a few steps inside his overly ornate room, hands in my pockets, and I opened my mouth.

“Come now there Jemma, I just thought I’d pop in and tell you…” My voice starts out strong, but it fades to silence as I take a few more steps into the room. Even for as big of a gloater as myself, I can see that Jem is hurting. I don’t want to have to feel anything for the poor boy, but there’s something about the pained look on his face that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. No, this wasn’t right. I should just quietly excuse myself from the room, but my feet are stuck in place. I stand there stupidly, watching Jem in his torment, unsure of what it is that I’m supposed to do. He wouldn’t want my help, at least, that’s what I would think if I were in his position.

But I can’t just leave him there. I can’t just walk out and pretend as though everything will be okay. Those windbags downstairs—his mother, for instance—probably don’t feel anything for him. He is, after all, just another pawn to move forward. It’s sick what the capitol has done to us, even the richest in the most prosperous district, to make us act inhuman toward one another. I slide my hands down along the wall nearby and try resting my back against it for a moment. I don’t want to get too close to him, though I know it would be pretty awkward to just continue standing and staring at him like I was. I sighed. I suppose I would have to go along and speak with him.

“Hey… hey now, what on earth is wrong with you?” He probably doesn’t expect this. I’m supposed to be aloof and uncaring. I’m supposed to be completely focused on myself and viscious. Just the other day I practically strangled him, and now I’m trying to see how he’s doing? I should let him cry. I should take pictures and laugh gleefully. But I won’t. Instead I’ll move closer to him and offer something. Something that would let me reach out to him—he’s just like me then, having men around in secret—and get something across to him. “Did he… are you?” I can’t find any words to come out for me. This was a bad idea, this was terrible and now he’s either going to lash out at me or weep.

And I loathe criers. Yet there I was, with a stupid grin on my face, missing a gold opportunity to rub it into Jem’s face that I was, in fact, superior on all accounts.

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Last Edit: Jun 12, 2012 18:11:45 GMT -5 by cyrus

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The Price we Pay [Luke] Jun 18, 2012 21:29:24 GMT -5

Post by pthalorarity on Jun 18, 2012 21:29:24 GMT -5

All I ever wanted was the world
I can't help that I need it all

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Jemma. Of course, there Rhen went again. Of course this brute of a boy would kick Jem when he was down, rub salt into his wounds. He couldn’t have expected anything more. Yet… there was more. Jem’s green eyes flickered in the light, coated in wetness of tears, watching in surprise as Rhen Rutherford took a step further into his room in a less than aggressive manner. The words that followed were even more shocking and it took more than a moment for the fact they had even been uttered into existence to register in Jem’s mind.

Unsure of just how to respond to such a civil…caring reaction from Rhen, Jem merely looked up at him for a moment before his gaze trailed to his tousled sheets, then back to the floor in shame once more. His brought his hands up over his eyes to shield his crimson cheeks. He attempted twice to swallow back the lump in his throat, but after both failed attempts, he spoke in spite of it. “I—I didn’t want to,” his voice was small and cracked upon the inflections. His body trembled as he took in a deep, ragged breath. Tears continued to trickle onto his chest as he pulled his knees in closer to himself for comfort.

“You were right about me all along, Rhen,” he said before letting out a half laugh, half scoff at himself. “I was so stupid… playing Games I shouldn’t…” He choked back a stifled sob, trying to at least hold some grip onto the moment. It hardly mattered though, there was no pride left to be wounded by being seen in this state. “And now, I’ve lost.” He winced at the thought and let his head fall into his knees now, letting his tears flow freely. There was more weight to his metaphor than he cared to admit, and he would now be forced to continually lose. The circumstances had fallen out of his control and the odds were not in his favor now that Gray held such a hefty thread over his pretty platinum head.

“I just wanted something more than all of this… and now I have nothing at all.”

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Last Edit: Nov 14, 2013 4:22:15 GMT -5 by pthalorarity

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The Price we Pay [Luke] Jun 21, 2012 22:06:13 GMT -5

Post by cyrus on Jun 21, 2012 22:06:13 GMT -5

When we’re born in Panem, some of us are lucky. We get taken to families that are able to care for us. They even raise us the right way, and if we don’t get swept up into the games, we live to see adulthood. For all that I disliked about my own family, I couldn’t fault them too much for how I’d been raised. Though my parents pushed and pushed for me to rise higher and higher on the social ladder, they still understood that I was a child. There was a tacit understanding, at least, that there were some things that could not be done for personal gain. I also had been much more resistant to anything they pushed my way. And because I was the third child, they had already used much of their energy on my brother and sister. The truth is, they weren’t half bad at making me question the world (though I think my brother and sister helped me to do that a lot more than anyone else) for what it was.

Little Jem was hurting. For him to say that he’d lost anything was the surest indication. He’d been swept up in the glitz and glamor of what being the richest, most powerful family of district one had meant. It did mean, of course, that they were enormously wealthy, and should’ve been content with everything that they had. They should have just been content with all that so many other didn’t have, but no one ever sees it that way here. Instead, Jem had been pushed to do better, to be better, and to claw his way out of here. Because that’s what people thought, that for some reason we’d get asked to leave this place and live in the capitol. But it was never the case, even for the most deserving. And so Jem had sold himself for chance at that… that glory, I guess you could say. It’s infuriating, really. I should rip into him for all the foolishness he’s put himself through. He’s a damn career, he could’ve easily said no. What kind of dignity did he have for his own body?

But I cannot bring the words to my lips. Instead I hover over Jem and bring a hand to his shoulder. I’ve never felt this way about anyone—so infuriated, so perplexed, so interested—and Jem Morgan was the only one that had been able to bring about such a change in me. I feel pity for him, that’s what I try to tell myself. I feel sorry for him that he’s had to go through this, and he hasn’t had anyone to tell him any differently. But is it that? Is it that, for all that I see in Jem, I might see a little bit of it in myself? Because I know that I want to be someone, that I want the glory and the parades and honors that would make me famous. I too want to be happy with myself, and to not have to worry about the way I look to everyone else. I haven’t found a passion yet—it frightens me, that I might get old without ever knowing what truly makes me happy.

“Jem…” I whisper to him. It’s a voice I haven’t used since I was so much younger, back when I would comfort my sister when she got a bad scrape or a boy had teased her. I wrap one of my arms around him. It does feel right, doesn’t it? I want to comfort him, even if I’m disgusted. Even if I think that what he’s done selling himself is disgusting and repugnant. But I’m not walking away. I’m here with Jem, for him, trying to comfort a scared little boy. I try my best to think of what to say. I’m never good when someone cries, what can I say to comfort him? “Jem you… he hurt you didn’t he? Why did you let him hurt you?”

As if he really wanted to illuminate on all of the details. That was a stupid question, wasn’t it? Every chance I had for making such small talk always came out so phony. And of all things, being phony was the worst. I move closer to him and my hand rubs against his back. “You’re better than he is, Jem… come on, you’re better than that… do you really want to be like that? Do you really want to them… like that? You’re so much better…” My voice cuts out as I let out a sigh. My hand rests on his back as I look down at Jem, wondering if anything that I’m saying is making sense at all. I’m no good at comforting anyone, but at the very least I was trying.

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The Price we Pay [Luke] Jun 28, 2012 14:20:21 GMT -5

Post by pthalorarity on Jun 28, 2012 14:20:21 GMT -5

All I ever wanted was the world
I can't help that I need it all

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Jem’s spine erupted into tingles of revolt as Rhen’s soft hand glided along his shoulder. To be touched by anyone right now would have already felt disgusting, but worse yet was the foreign concept that lie in the sincerity of this boy… his enemy’s touch and words. Jem Morgan couldn’t believe in such things as kindness in this harsh, sociopathic world he lived in, and he certainly didn’t want to believe Rhen was capable of demonstrating it toward him. Coupled with the words of concern, Jem couldn’t take this any longer once the boy rubbed his back, coddling him in a way even his mother had never done as a child. His body writhed and the blonde lurched forward, away from this strange source of consolation.

He stumbled as he stood, but looked back upon Rhen with his jaw tight and his green eyes narrowed. “Why do you care what he did or what I have done? Don’t pretend like you care! No one cares and least of all among them should be you!” Jem was becoming more aware of his nearly bare figure in the moment and wrapped his arms around his naked chest as he stood there. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but if you’re trying to mess with my head some more, I’d prefer you just go with your usual route of belittling me. Don’t try to pretend you care, Rhen,” he sneered in disgust as his next words grazed his lips. “You’re worse of an actor than my mother.”

His body gave a small shiver either from the cold, or the harshness of his own words upon himself. This evening had shattered whatever may have been left of his dignity and playing mind games with Rhen Rutherford was not going to get him anywhere. He stood a little taller though, trying to at least exude some assemblage of authority, but the cracks in his voice and the wetness in his eyes betrayed him. “So please, do us both a favor and cut your poor attempt at feigned concern. Go back to the party, tell whatever friends you have just how much you hate me, and leave me alone.” He swallowed back the lump in his throat and made his way to a corner of his bedroom where a stack of folded throw blankets and pillows lay folded neatly upon a cedar chest. He quickly grabbed the topmost blanket, a furry, white number that nearly matched his platinum hair, and wrapped it tightly around himself.

“I’ll be sleeping in another room tonight. Don’t follow me,” he said flatly. He quickly snatched up a lush pillow from the stack and made his way to his bedroom door. He looked back to Rhen for a moment, his dark silhouette outlined by the moonlight from the expansive wall of French doors. That look, whatever it was… the genuine nature of it was too painful to linger upon. With a deep breath, Jem considered saying something further, but couldn’t muster any further strength in his vocal cords. His energy for the day was spent, so with an awkward moment of silence, Jem took his leave from his own bedroom.

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The Price we Pay [Luke] Jul 4, 2012 1:38:55 GMT -5

Post by cyrus on Jul 4, 2012 1:38:55 GMT -5

I should’ve expected that Jem would lash out at me like he did. I didn’t know what to anticipate, really, after trying to comfort him. I suppose I thought I knew what was best and that I could make things seem a little bit more right than they actually were. How the h—l was I supposed to know, anyway, what to say about just being sexually abused? What was I supposed to say to someone that obviously was hurting and not in any way, shape or form that I was used to? It left me speechless on his bed. I could only sit and stare as the boy fumed and decided to leave me, rather than me leaving him. I opened my mouth to say something, but the moment had passed.

There were times when I had things to say, things that mattered. But this was one of those times when there were no witty retorts or painful jabs. It was a space in time where I could only watch with curiosity as Jem refused my help. What on earth was I supposed to do, then? I reached out to him, in a way that I almost ever did for anyone else, and he smacked me down as though it was worthless. I suppose that was just the type of person that he was: arrogant to a fault, never wanting to admit that he was wrong, and ashamed of knowing that someone else could be right. I had a similar rash of bad personality traits. It was just another thing that the two of us had in common.

“I suppose… I’ll see myself out, then.” I said this to the empty room now as I stared down at the floor. I don’t really know why I ever really tried anymore with him. Or with anyone. It never got me too far, not in this district. Sticking out one’s neck was apparently a sign of weakness that had been beaten out of most by the time they were teens. And of all people, for Jem to refuse me seemed to be the worst part. He actually thought that my offer to help was another way to get inside his head and mess with him. If I wanted to do that, I could’ve done much worse. That was the sad part. If I truly wanted to destroy him emotionally, I would’ve wasted no time knocking him down. But this was different. He was different.

I stood and dusted off my tuxedo. The party would still be going on downstairs, and I supposed that there was a corner that I could hide myself in for the rest of the evening. My brother had promised to show up at some point, so there might even have been a life form that was worth talking to. For a second, I contemplated moving toward Jem’s door—my hand was raised even to knock against the frame—but I stopped, knowing that there was a limit as to what could be done. Instead, I turned back toward the hallway and faded back into the party.

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