Jane the Virgin Slayer

Chapter Five: The Finger

Few things in life has gotten me down. When my parents died, when my sister split and when Beth died.

Each time has had their own unique raw wound with it's own sorrow and pain. And as the days passed and the grey cloud blew over I had gotten up.

But today felt different.

I didn't have a lot to lose in life, and yet somehow I managed to lose that as well. I can't even remember when last I attended a class, or taken a shower, what did it matter anyway? I don't have mr. Dobrev's money and by tonight there'll probably be a bloody mess all over my apartment.

Yes, life has a way of giving you the finger when you least needed it.

The real worrysome part was that I didn't even care, it's like my body went into some kind of hibernation mode. I didn't feel like eating, or drinking - except for alcohol - and in between the bouts of sleeping and excessive drinking I watched random scenes of the notebook on my couch with wine bottles and beer cans littering a five feet radius around me.

I haven't cried yet.

I had thought of it before... The possibility of Beth being dead, I thought I'd cry and scream and lose my mind. But I didn't. She didn't deserve such nonchalant response to her death. But I had no control over my body the moment I saw her on that table.

It's like I have been watching from a third perspective for the last 24 hours... Though the alcohol could also explain that.

Not a single word had escaped my lips since... I simply stood there and listened how the detective described what had been done to Beth.

She said she'd been sexually assaulted numerous times, there were traces of a few different substances in her blood, she broke two ribs, fractured her clavicle, had severe hemorrhage and trauma to her scull as well as her pelvis.

With each injury that was mentioned it was like a piece of myself died, or got lost. She looked at peace, but how can she be at peace when she went through so much. I twisted an ankle in high school and Zelda had to literally carry me to the bathroom.

The detective didn't even finish talking to me when I bent down and kissed Beth's forehead, my lips lingering on her cold skin, mentally promising myself I'll do whatever I can and whatever is in my power to find this son of a bitch. Without a word or glance to the detective I turned and walked away, not stopping until I reached my front door.

And here I am now, in all my glory. I watched The Fault In Our Stars without so much as batting an eye, I watched The Notebook without flinching, I even pulled up an old disc with The Lion King on and made it through Mufasa's death with a straight face.

Nothing hurt this much ever in my life. The world was grey, and not the kinky kind.

I faintly heard the front door open... And close... And lock.

I didn't bother to look. I knew...

Footsteps made their way toward me and stopped in the arch of the kitchen, casting a shadow over the living room carpet.

I didn't look up, I know who it is.

It's twelve o clock Friday night. Someone had come to collect my money, or my finger.

The kitchen counters were covered in green bills, some neat, some crinkled like they've been scrunched up, some covered in glitter. I faintly remember breaking every piggy bank I own and rummaging through the apartment for any money I might have put away for 'rainy days' figuring this was about the sum of a fucking storm.

But it didn't change the fact that it still isn't enough.

"I don't have it." my voice rasped out, croaky from lack of use. I brought the bottle to my lips and finished off the last bit of wine in it. I looked at it in the dim light of the t.v and shook it.