I'd Lie (Jacob Thrombey, Knives Out)

Chapter Six-Just Teenagers

When their laughter had finally died down, Jennifer changed the subject and asked Jacob what he'd been doing since she'd seen him at the will reading: between the reception thing and the will reading, there had been a whole week. And she had visited the Thrombey household every day during that time, and had seen no sign of Jacob. 

The boy brightened noticeably, and told her about how he'd needed a break from the whole murder mystery thing and so had gone to have a sleepover at a friend's house. Jen tried not to feel jealous and focused herself by counting the different shades of colours in his eyes. She dutifully listened to his description of some of the friends of his friend, and suspected that he had taken quite a shine to one of them. Jealousy surged up within her again and her light grey-blue eyes flashed with hurt and shame. She fought to keep it under control and by the time Jacob's attention had lapsed from the wonderful nights he'd spent at his friend's house and returned to Jen, the writer was watching him with admirable composure that was nothing if not calm. In that moment, she seemed far older than sixteen, simply because of the wisdom gleaming in her eyes and her careful composure.

"What about you then?" he asked gently, and suddenly Jen was a teenager again.

"Oh, nothing really," she replied dismissively, casually, internally cringing at her short cut to avoid awkwardness. "I was just spending some time over here, I guess. Helping Frannie around the house." It was a half truth, but she couldn't tell him that she had wanted to visit him. How would that come across? Desperate, probably. 

Out of nowhere, he smiled that cute little grin which she'd become obsessed with. Her heart melted and she found herself smiling back, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Miss me?" So damn much, but she settled for something a little more casual:

"Of course." Jacob's grin widened as if he was happy that she had missed him, though it probably wasn't as much as he had missed her. But then he remembered that the love of his life was almost certainly going to die soon, and his smile faded.

"Well, I'm back now. And you'd better not die on me any time soon." Jen sighed fondly.

"If I do, then you're paying for my funeral." She'd meant it as a joke but apparently when it came to her possible death, Jacob was dead serious.

"Aren't you scared? Or angry?" She shrugged a shoulder as if it was no big deal.

"I may have been acting in the little game we played with the Thrombeys' secrets, but that didn't mean I never felt anything. Actually, I felt so much that now I'm just numb." Jen admitted calmly. Jacob looked horrified.

"You really don't care if he kills you?"

"If you really had faith in me, you'd know that I can handle myself. Harlan taught me to tell real knives from fake ones, and how to use them. He can't kill me."

"I do have faith in you. But what if he does kill you?" Jacob shot back. "Without you, I'm just the Nazi Child. I'm nothing."

"Snowflake, if you were really nothing without me, I wouldn't have fallen in love with you would I?" The writer responded without thinking.

"Wait, what was that?" Her eyes went cold as she realised what she'd said.

Shit.

"I-I need to go." And with that, the writer bolted. She ran blindly, with no sense of direction: all she knew was that she had to get away. 

Stupid, stupid, STUPID! 

Why the hell did she let her guard down around him?!

Why the hell did she tell him that?!

Why would he ever fall in love with her?

Her breath soon came in short gasps, and her feet slowed to a stop while she fought to remain in control. Looking around her, the writer noticed she was on Columbus Road and that, for some reason, Blanc was waiting in his car outside a hair salon. She walked over to him and asked what was going on. Ah. So Marta had gone inside then. Another of Ransom's tricks. She wandered away, debating with herself about whether to follow after her sister. She was still angry with Marta for once again forgetting that she existed. But despite that, they were sisters.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps behind her and turning, lashed out at her attacker. She realised who it was the very moment her fist connected with his nose: Ransom. He staggered back, clutching his bleeding nose. Jennifer took the chance to quickly assess his strengths and weaknesses. He was stronger and bigger than her, but she had always been as slippery and deceitful as an eel. Ransom charged her and she leapt out of the way, sticking her foot out to trip him up. He faceplanted on the ground and got a mouthful of dirt, spitting it out quickly. Then he stopped, realising something.

"You knew." He spoke suddenly. It wasn't a question.

"It's not hard to work out. I know every Thrombey secret, meaning that I'm in your way. Therefore, I must be silenced for you to succeed." Jennifer responded calmly, jumping over his foot when he tried to trip her. "But the canary bird has already sung, I'm afraid. Blanc knows everything." She saw the exact moment the raw rage reared its head inside him, and knew instantly that no one would be able to save her now. Blanc would remember her when it was too late. If Jacob had followed her, he'd have fought like a wildcat to stop Ransom, and she'd have stood a chance. But he hadn't. 

Ransom suddenly lunged for her and she nimbly stepped out of the way, only just missing him. And then all that pressure of having to act like an adult, disappeared. In its place, anger roared like a wildfire, and rage in Ransom's eyes was suddenly easily matched by the fury in hers. She went for him, a lioness pouncing on her prey. She dragged her long nails down his arm, drawing blood. He howled and unwisely clapped his hand over her mouth. But the wildfire had taken control of Jen and made her merciless, and she bit down on his hand, hard. He yanked his hand away and she took the chance to elbow him in the stomach, successfully winding him. She quickly rang Blanc's number and gasped out her attacker's name. Then she remembered something the detective had said not so long ago, when he'd first questioned the family.

"A storyteller. The most important role of all."

She tossed her phone aside and lunged for Ransom again, kicking and biting and scratching him. But this time, she was in control. And when he knocked her down and left her to die, when the darkness began to creep in at the corners of her vision, she repeated Blanc's words to herself and changed the story's ending.