Affection | Jenlisa

Love Till You Go Crazy ★

If there was one thing Jennie knew with ardent certainty in her 15 years of existence, it was that Lalisa Manoban was hers.

She cradled the implications of that with her entire being and believed it to be true just as people believed the fundamental laws of the universe. Lisa belonged to her.

There was no need for any conflict or contradiction. Because Jennie knew, she felt it every day, every second that she breathed, that Lisa was running through her veins, her essence so intertwined with her blood, that an attempt at separation would be a sacrilege. She had vowed to never allow it.

It all began one summer when Jennie was a tiny little thing. All of 7 years old, picking dirt up with a stray branch, sitting under a huge tree at their school's playground. Unwilling to participate in any of the rowdy and raucous activities that her classmates indulged in.

Nobody ever spoke with her. She had been branded the cliched 'Freak' early on when she was spotted once by one of her classmates licking blood from a wound on her wrist with relish. The girl had rushed out from the empty classroom when Jennie had looked up and met her eyes with a mad glint which she was too young and too scared to process. Word spread soon and the students maintained their distance.

That's not to say she wasn't subjected to the consequential bullying that accompanied with being different, irrespective of the difference being good or bad. She often entered class to find her seat drowning in dirty water, her locker painted with a volley of unpleasant greetings. Jennie had taken it all in her stride, knowing it didn't matter. They didn't matter, they were irrelevant. The entire lot of them. True, it did make her want to burn things to the ground, watch the flames deliciously engulf those who tormented her till they were nothing but ashes, but those will have to wait.

So, there she was, making a small hole in the soft mud, with her vicious attack, trying her best to tune out the unwanted cacophony of laughter and play. Suddenly a flurry of water bottles emerged out of nowhere and the next thing Jennie knew, she was soaking wet.

Classic act of juvenile cruelty.

Her classmates and even some of the seniors couldn't keep their hands to themselves whenever Jennie was around. Always itching to provoke her in some manner.

Jennie looked up. Water dripping down her over her forehead and into her eyelashes. The steady inferno that always seem to idly run through Jennie's small, young body lit up at the provocation. Blazing, red and hot. She balled her small fists by her side, digging down on the dirt. She stared at them in mute fury, eyes unblinking. Like a rubber band pulled taut, ready to spring any moment. Breath coming in short, harsh gasps.

"Freak's seething!" one of the seniors, a grade above Jennie, jeered.

"Did we interrupt your little voodoo sesh, Freak?" said another.

"Hey moron, got glass balls for your eyes or what! Blink will ya?" someone else said, and the whole gang, probably of 6, erupted into gleeful laughter.

Jennie kept staring, mouth twitching at the corners. Her school shirt was sticking uncomfortably to her body. Her fisted palms getting white knuckled with how tightly she had them balled up. And her self-control was hanging by a thread. Her little tormentors had no idea what Jennie was capable of, regardless of her age.

"Hey maybe we should give her some blood. Maybe she will lap it up like the psycho vampire she probably is." Another bout of unkind laughter.