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21, Halloween, Night of Bullshit
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It's too early for a girl to be up. She knows that, but she hadn't slept well. Her mind was too alive, between the phone call from a hurting girl who she was (now badly) friends with, and sleeping next to a baby and her fucking father—her taken father. This wasn't her family to infringe on, it was Nancy's... (Not really.)
Jen felt awful. This had gotten too much. It had been too much from the start, she knew that, but she now just seem to realize how fucking selfish she is. She wants Steve, so badly. She wants his daughter, so badly. She wants that feeling of being needed by people she cares for, so badly.
This last year has been such a sweet torture.
This mornings light isn't even out yet. Jen's sat at the edge of her bed, knees to her chest. Her head is pounding, and she knows she's out of painkillers—she'd given Steve the last of them a few nights ago. Ever since last year, his fight with Jonathan in that alleyway, the one Jen had ran from, his headaches have been a constant reminder of how cruel he'd been those few weeks.
Jen's fingers tease at her scalp, pulling hard at flatten wavy strands, her hair is a mess against her skin. Her eyes are screwed shut, and she tries to calm her racing heart. How could she have done this to Nancy? She was sure she knew. She had too. Especially after last night. How could Nancy even call Jen a friend?
Jen was sure she knew, she had too.
Jen flinched a little at the sudden small hand on her bare thigh, just below her soft sleep shorts. The girl removed her tightened grip from her untamed hair, her eyes peering open slowly and looking to the left side. Her eyes met Violet's small form. She was sat up, legs bent in towards herself, a broken criss-cross applesauce. Her brunette hair was a mess of soft waves and her chubby fists were rubbing into her sleep laced eyes. The little girl was doused in sleep like a beautiful sweet perfume. Jen's face softened. "J.." Violet mumbled softly, she didn't have Jen's name just yet.
