THIS WILL DESTROY YOU,, [stand-alones]

[NELL DOE DALE]

i'm sure daddy's in bed thinking about my life,

and how to make it right now

march tenth



Nell didn’t know what she was doing here, why she agreed to come here. She guessed because it was inevitable. She couldn’t avoid her father, especially not when he moved into Maple Hollow. Absentmindedly fussing with a glass figurine sitting on the fireplace mantle, she inspected the house. One could call it a mansion—it wasn’t as large as some, but definitely an ostentatious example of the man’s wealth. Something else on the mantle soon caught her attention, though—a picture that he should not have had. With a confused gaze, she lifted the frame up and looked closer at it. In the picture, she saw two little girls smiling back at her, looking to be around four-years-old, with a grinning woman whose arms were wrapped around them. She couldn’t even remember this picture being taken, but here it was. And there was another one, she realized as she placed the frame back on the mantle and picked up one that must have been taken by her mother. It looked to be around the same time, with the identical looking girls standing on their parents’ bed and clinging to their father.

”Do you want it?”

Still holding the frame, Nell turned and looked at her father as he stood just beyond the couches of the family room. He wore a finely tailored suit, his hair quaffed and looking as sharp as she’d always remembered him. She replaced the frame on the mantle as she said, ”Do you have one of just Tilly and I?” It surprised her that he had even two pictures of the family. Apparently he did have a picture of just the two of them, for he opened the drawer of a table against the wall and handed the picture he had pulled out. Looking down at the picture, her chest hurt. Yes, it was Tilly and her, Nell with her arms around her sister’s neck and Till wrapping her arms around the other’s waist. A smile worked its way onto her face as she gingerly placed the picture in her purse, and glanced back up to find her father with an odd expression on his features. Her smile instantly dropped.

“Are you ready to go, mija?” He gave her a once-over, then lifted his eyebrow. “You look beautiful. My little girl’s all grown up. Where did you get the dress?”

The temptation to roll her eyes was strong as it always was with him, but she merely stood still, now keenly aware of how out-of-place she was. The slinky dress had once belonged to Birdie, and it was obviously expensive which is probably what brought her father to ask. She had bought heels to match, along with a purse and her straight hair was out of its usual clip. Nell hadn’t realized how much it’d grown, as it now reached to her chest. To add to the metamorphosis, she also wore make-up. He said that she was all-grown up, and his little girls, things normal fathers would say—but what did he really think of her? She had killed his ex-wife, the mother of his children, and the media said in cold-blood. But he knew what Mia was like, and most likely inferred that Nell was not in fact a problem child—that after he left, the physical part of the abuse began. Hopefully it made him feel sick to his stomach. Decidedly uncomfortable and completely out of her element, she said, “A friend gave it to me.”

She headed toward the door, her heels clicking against the hard wood floor. That was one of the only things she truly liked about the outfit—the sound of her heels made her feel powerful, as if her presence was making itself known. She felt like a force, which is what she needed with her father. The drive over to the restaurant was silent and uncomfortable as it should be when you’re meeting with your father for the first time in over eleven years. There was nothing to talk about with so much bitterness swirling in the air between them.

At the restaurant, it was much the same. The maitre d’ seated them quickly seeing as León had made reservations, and Nell focused on the dim lights, the expensive red tablecloths, and the dark brick walls—anything other than her father. It was mostly silent, except for her heels, clicking against the glossy floor. It was even more uncomfortably silent as they sat and looked over the menus, which listed prices without a dollar sign. At least, it was quiet until her father spoke up. It seemed odd, that he’d be the one to break the silence.

“I might as well get straight to business, then.”

She lifted her eyes from the menu and gazed at him, showing that she was well-aware of his conspicuous use of Spanish. That meant he would say something he didn’t want others to hear. “What business is that?” she responded coolly in English. Inside, she was excited about how cool she sounded but kept her face even. Nell felt like one of her Fuentes relatives conducting a business deal. Or actually, talking in general.

He stayed serious as he went on to say, “I told you over the phone that I wanted to make amends with you and reconcile. I know what I did was wrong, I shouldn’t have left the family, but there is no way to turn back time. So here I’m going to make the best out of this situation and ask you what I could do to make you forgive me.”

Nell decided to slip into Spanish, the words feeling strange in her mouth—it’d been years since she had a full conversation with the language. Calmly, she stated, "I don't think I could ever forgive you. Not for leaving me, but for leaving Tilly. I didn't need you as much as she did. Sure, I wanted a father just like any little girl, but it was Tilly who was sick and dying and living with a paranoid schizophrenic mother. Why did you leave when I asked you to take us away?" That was something she still couldn’t understand. Why did he choose that day, the day she went into his room as he got ready for work, knotted his tie, and begged him to steal Tilly and her from their mother. But he had simply hugged her as he sat on the bed and she stood before him, saying ”Lo siento, mija.” before he left. Out in the hallway, she saw her mother kiss him goodbye and then send the little girl a look that told her Mia had overheard it all. That look still made her shiver, even as she sat at the table, flattening out the napkin on her lap over and over to distract her.

“I didn’t choose the day I would leave.” He folded his hands before his face, elbows on the table. His brown eyes—why did they have to be the same warm brown color as hers?—looked off to some distance that must have been the past. "But I knew I would. I was never ready to be a father. Or a husband. I was young and foolish."

That still didn’t explain why he chose that specific day to never come back from work. Perhaps the fact that she had brought it up made him realize how deep he’d gotten and he might as well get out when he could. In her heart, the usual guilt she felt over everything now blamed her for driving the man away. Frustration managed to cloak the feeling though. "You still knew right from wrong! And I would think leaving your daughters in the hands of someone who was clearly unstable is something even a four-year-old would see as wrong."

"When you're older—“

"Do not finish that sentence.” Her voice was cold and hard. She had inherited her family’s version of anger—silent and calm and a precursor to underhanded destruction. “You cannot explain this away with clichés. I'll understand when I'm older? I sure hope not, because I'll be a damn better parent than you ever were."

Even with the Spanish cover-up of their words, people seated near them could tell something was amiss in the conversation, that there was a possible fight in the future. León knew how to handle it, however. He narrowed his eyes. "Behave yourself, Nell."

"Fuck you," she stated, completely stiff. Her foul mouth didn't even matter anymore. She absolutely could not stand him. She didn't know who was worse—his parents or him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Good, I hope I grate on your patience. "I want to make it up to you,” he said slowly, as if his daughter wouldn’t be able to understand unless he measured every word. “Even though I know it will never be enough."

"No, it won’t ever be enough," Nell immediately answered. She was about to tell him off. Then she hesitated. "But I'd like to see you try."

He seemed to catch on, and smirked a bit. "I understand that you're short on funds right now. Anything you need—whether it's for rent or bills or grocery shopping—just ask me. I'll give you money."

Nell nodded slowly. She was about to do the most horrible thing she'd ever done in her life. Normally, she was against any give-outs or taking money. But this was different. This was her father. Suddenly, it didn't seem so horrible. Suddenly, it seemed something like justice. "Right now I can think of one thing. I need a car."

He nodded as he reached into his blazer's pocket and pulled out his checkbook as if she'd merely requested a new blouse. He filled it out, ripped it off the pad, and slid it over to her. After seeing the blank 'amount' box, she looked up into his eyes. It still felt incredibly strange, seeing those eyes again after such a vast gap in time. Wordless, she placed it in her wallet next to the picture, then returned both to her purse. No ‘thank you’s, no smiling or expressions of gratefulness. He didn't deserve any show of gratitude yet. This is how he thought he could make it up to her—through materialistic means. It was the only way he knew to show that he cared. And she was going to exploit it for all it’s worth.

When he picked up the menu again and they ordered their food, the silence stifled them once more. No more menus to distract them with, no more discussion of being broke. Both of them needed to ask all of these questions, yet neither of them had the guts to say anything out loud. Until she asked with a sour edge, “What have you been doing all these years?”

He studied Nell for a moment before replying, “Working, mainly. I moved here because I found a lab that paid much better than the one I had previously been at in California.”

So he went all the way across the country? How about that. But she knew what he meant by those words: he found out she’d finally gotten to the Academy and went looking for a lab in Canada so he could live near her. “So I’m guessing you didn’t remarry or anything?” Otherwise, it wouldn’t have been so easy to move and he would have his new family’s pictures instead of the ones he left.

He shook his head, looking down a bit before steadying his gaze back at her. "I never loved anyone other than your mother."

She lifted an eyebrow. "You left her."

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t love her.”

Nell sighed. There was no use in arguing with him. The silence settled back in like an old friend, and then León apparently thought the ball was back in his court to shatter the silence. “This war at the Academy…how is it that you were blamed for the Thunder leader’s murder?”

He just loved bringing up the worse subjects. She shrugged. “They have a source, apparently. But I have an alibi, not that they care.” Don’t say too much to him, Nell. The girl didn’t want to let on how bad the war was going for her, didn’t want to reveal any sort of weakness to him.

“I was the Thunder leader when I attended the Academy,” he said. “I understand how wars like these start, and how difficult it is to deter them from their paths. As a matter of fact, if I were at the Academy now I would attack you too. But you’re a survivor, Nell. I believe you can make it.”

Nell felt her entire body tense up. What made him think she cared about what he had to say? Especially since he said that he’d have attacked her as a leader. Another piece of evidence that he just wasn’t good at being a father. “How do you think I’m a survivor?” she asked. “How would you know that?”

The server brought his wine, and he paused for a moment before picking up the glass and taking a sip. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I kept up with the news reports and what the family was saying about you. I automatically knew that you were not a problem child, or that that wound was self-inflicted. Mia she…abused you?” His voice actually lowered, as if in respect. But Nell could only glower at him, which must have been an answer in itself. Sensing that the situation had immediately gotten incredibly tenser with the mention of the woman’s treatment of Nell, León said, “I apologize that you had to deal with my parents.”

Nell snorted. “They’re nothing compared to Aunt Jane.”

“How is she?” he asked rather lightly, as if the two didn’t hate each other’s guts.

“Lovely,” she said under breath, rolling her eyes. It was uncomfortable having something in common with her father with the distaste they both had for the woman. But of course, there was more than that between them, more similarities. “So are your parents, if you care.”

He didn’t say anything then, and despite everything Nell found herself curious about the details of his relationship with his parents. From what her aunt and they had told her, they were pretty tough when it came to rearing him, and it caused León to rebel. Part of that rebellion had been her mother.

Their dinner passed in silence, which was just as well. Nell didn’t want to talk to him, and so she stuffed her face to keep her father from even thinking he had a chance to talk. Even as he drove her back to her apartment, there was no conversation. She leaned her head against the tinted window, gazing out at the dirty streets. There was a time when León had endured these conditions when they hadn’t had enough money to get by. She wondered if that was another reason he left. Without the burden of a family, he could be a successful man. It only made to increase her bitterness. Stopping outside of the apartment building she’d directed him too, he said, “I don’t like you living here.”

She rolled her eyes. “And?”

He sighed, turned a bit in his seat to face his daughter. “Why don’t you come to live with me?”

Nell bristled at the question, but shut her eyes, head still against the window. “I don’t want to live with you. I’m not ready for that.” Admitting something akin to vulnerability grated on her and so she amended: “I won’t ever be ready, either.”

“I hope you realize this,” he said and she drummed her fingers against her leg. "I'm the only one on your side about the ordeal back in America. I'm the only one who believes you and is willing to help."

And he was hoping this would get her on his side? Who the hell did he think he was? In a burst of energy, took off her seatbelt and pushed the door open, slamming it behind her. León followed right after, calling, “You can’t run from me, Nell.”

Turning smartly on her heel, she hoped that he could feel her glare through the dark. “Can’t I? I am your daughter, after all. The apple doesn’t fall far from the coward of a tree.” She knew how to bite with her words, because they were all she had now. If she were a violent person and this angry, shit would have gotten real by now. But she was not that kind of person, and so she verbally attacked.

“This is different,” he said, oh-so calm. It only pissed her off more. Everything about him pissed her off. He didn’t even have to do anything to grate on her nerves. His mere existence was at odds to hers.

“Yes, it is,” she challenged, stepping up closer to him, the clicking of her heels loud in the night. “I needed you back then. Your family needed you. But I don’t need you anymore. If you want things to be back the way they used to be, then you’re delusional. The world can’t work the way you want it to, papa. It’s not going to be the same, no matter how hard you try to make it. You say you want me to come live with you and you want to help me, as if everything can return to normal and I can be your little girl again. But it never even was normal, not with her. Just…stop this. If you want to reconcile, build from the ground up.” She shook her head, her gaze destitute. “Just stop forcing this to work.”

The little rant wasn’t even half of what she wanted to tell him, but it still felt good. She looked him straight in his eyes, and they were still unreadable and she wanted to do something that would break him down. That would make him show something to her. And with his words, it seemed like she got through. “I don’t know how to make it work. I don’t know how to begin with you, mija.”

Nell realized then with painful clarity that he was just like any other father who didn’t know how to communicate with his daughter. Like in normal relationships, when the little girl grew up into a rebellious teenager and the growing pains were strong. But this was different. This was an absentee father returning to his daughter’s life after the girl had killed her own mother and ran away as a fugitive. This was scary for her, and he didn’t understand that because she didn’t show it. Any other daughter would have felt sorry and ashamed for how she was treating this man, and Nell would have were she anyone else’s daughter. But he needed to know that she didn’t need him the way she used to.

“Give me time.” In truth, she had eleven years. But she never thought she’d come back, and she’d been angry for so long, Nell knew that now he was back he would be her punching bag for everything that was eating at her. Would time work? She didn’t know. All she knew was that everything he did and said made her so angry, and she didn’t know what to do with that rage.

He nodded, shaking his keys in his hands in a sign of awkward discomfort. Back straight, she walked up to him and pecked him on the cheek, saying as she pulled away, “Good night, papa.”

“Be safe,” León replied in Spanish as she walked away.

He just didn’t know how to be a father. That was what it was, pure and simple. She listened as the car rumbled away as she headed up to her apartment, ready to fall apart the instant she touched her futon. But as she walked into the space, the studio apartment she called home, she felt the walls so close to her, suffocating. Her father was bringing back a reality with him she didn’t want to face. He was forcing her to admit things to herself that she didn’t want to accept as true. As she slid down the door, Nell realized then how close she really was to a nervous breakdown.

music: walk by- meiko
notes: <3
credit: post template made by mem of OTE

[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

[NELL DOE DALE]

one more thing before we start the final face-off,

i will be the one to watch you fall

august second



Nell could sense it before even stepping into the mansion—the only thing that could have made the aura of immenet doom more apparent would be a hazy fog rolling out across the lawn as lightning struck above. And when she entered the sunroom, she knew exactly why she felt such trepidition as she pushed her sunglasses up to her head. Sitting in one of the chairs, legs crossed and heels bobbing as she tapped her foot, was Aunt Jane. Her gaze fell on the blouse that must have cost more than Nell’s entire outfit, and then up to the woman’s face, which was turned with a rather disinterested gaze to the large-pane windows. Jane had a presence, one Nell could apparently feel even before walking into the same room as she. There was something overbearing and omniscient about Jane and the woman knew it, flaunted it for all it was worth. The hair that fell down her shoulders in waves always seemed to be in the right place, and her fingers were finely manicured and tapping on the arm of the chair while the other hand propped up her chin.

As Nell’s heels clicked against the hardwood floor, the woman’s gaze slid fluidly over to study her, large and blue—she wondered where the woman got the color from, but supposed it had something to do with genetics. Her face was placid and Nell tried not to do a Scooby Doo gulp as she gazed at the man sitting across from Jane—her father in one of his tailored suits, hands folded on his lap and sunlight falling across him. It looked like the two were in the middle of an interrogation, even though Jane wasn’t looking at León.

“I’m glad you came Nell,” he father spoke, not standing or shifting much at all, save to lift his head to peer up at her. The reason she’d come over was because he called her and said that it was important—and she caved, because she was way too weak. Nell could sense that he didn’t like Aunt Jane, and it seemed she had a thing for auras that day. Even without her prior knowledge, she would have guessed at it—his posture was no give away, as he was lax against the back of the chair. But she could tell in his eyes, how they never left the other woman’s face even as she looked at the new arrival in the form of a terrified Earth girl.

Her jaw clenched and Jane gave her a knowing smile. “Hello, Nelly.” Everything about her voice was sick and smooth and sounding like the cigarettes she smoked. It quite literally sent a chill up ‘Nelly’s’ spine. But she kept her tone level as calm seas when she replied, “When did you get here, Jane?”

Jane rose from the chair and it only took a few paces before she was standing in front of the younger girl, close enough that Nell could smell her most likely expensive perfume. “It’s Aunt Jane, love,” she corrected gently. The woman looked over her shoulder at León before turning back to Nell with a languid smile. “Just yesterday, actually. The plane ride was god awful, as to be expected.”

Nell didn’t notice that her father had stood and walked over to them, so entranced she was by the fear and bitterness and other overwhelming emotions claiming her at that moment, so when he spoke her eyes snapped over to the dark-haired man. “She’s staying at the Fairmont,” he explained tonelessly. Even his eyes seemed rather lifeless, like Jane had sucked the life from him. She had the sort of effect on people. Nell amazed herself with how calm she sounded, but the fact that she couldn’t read Jane’s expression made her anxious. “How long are you staying?” she asked the woman. Nell had clasped her hands in front of her stomach in what she hoped to be a nonchalant way, not really knowing what she wanted to do. Run? Hit her? Cry? There was a multitude of options. “Till the trial, silly,” Jane said as if it should have been the most obvious thing in the world. The woman took her hand, and Nell shivered again, feeling her body go cold. Jane shouldn’t be here. It was terrifying and all too surreal after last seeing her in a hospital when hearing of her little plan. “What I figure is,” she explained, guiding Nell over to the seat she had previously occupied and gently pushing the girl into it, “you’ll be needing some council and guidance during the preparation for your trial. Now, your father and I understand that you would rather not go back to America until absolutely necessary, and that is fine. It’s more difficult for us, yes, but it’s understandable. So we’ll just make due.”

If Nell had been terrified before, she was crawling out of her skin by now, with confusion added to the mix. Why was Jane acting like this? She was behaving like a perfectly civil human being with no trace of the psychopath she truly was. Nell understood how well the woman was with facades—she was a performer, after all, but this was something entirely different and disturbing. Where were the insults? Nell pinpointed a few already, but they were so veiled that she was sure not even her father would notice. Her father. She looked over at the man who re-occupied his own seat, legs crossed as he held a hand before his face and watched the two. Jane was putting on an act because he was here. Nell’s eyes narrowed, but she forced herself to remain seated and calm. If her aunt could pull an act, so could she. “I’m sorry for being so stubborn,” she said, smiling wanly at the woman standing above her. “But you understand with school and everything…”

Jane waved a hand as if shooing away the words Nell just spok. “As I said, we’ll make due. Right now, I’m more concerned about organizing and all of that good stuff. We have the flight back to New York to worry about and where you will be staying.” This is a lie. Papa, please tell me you see. He hated the woman, after all, surely he’d notice that this wasn’t her normal behavior? But then she realized something—these two were adults, living in their own adult world with their own adult beliefs. And in this world, León would like to believe that there was no such thing as tempers and violence and petty actions such as underhanded insults. He’d like to think that because Jane was a full-grown woman, that she could function as one. Nell didn’t think that was true. The things her aunt had said to and threatened her with told her she was far from well-adjusted. And Jane understood how León felt, which is why she was acting in such a way—he only cared about the surface, the facades. It wouldn’t occur to him that Jane was in fact possibly quite as bad as her sister had been.

“Well, I would love to stay and catch up with you, Nelly, but I should be returning to the hotel before it gets to late. I was expecting you earlier, after all,” she said, and then Nell noticed a slight shift in her features, subtle and yet noticeable because she was looking for anything. “How about you come with me? We could have dinner, there’s a lovely restaurant…”

Jane was taking her hand again, and Nell’s eyes grew slightly wider as she quickly yanked her hand away with a short, “No.” She noticed that her father was blinking at her, and she turned back to Jane whose expression she still couldn’t read. “I should get going home too.” After a moment of what seemed to be Jane surveying her niece, the woman nodded and air-kissed the girl’s cheeks before bidding farewell. León tilted his head, and she knew the question in that gesture. “If I go anywhere alone with her, she’ll hurt me,” she said, and there was slight panic in the stark words.

León slowly shook his head before standing, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stepped over to the chair Nell was still sitting in. She wondered if the chair was trembling with her body. “Nell, you are being paranoid,” he said in Spanish, and most of the fear and the dread disappeared as her eyes turned up to his. “I am not being paranoid,” she retorted. “I’m being careful. She’s one of the people testifying against me in the trial, papa, why would you let her come here and get involved?”

If he were any other man, he most likely would have sighed and rubbed his forehead, shook his head. But he was León Trinidad Corteas Fuentes, and so he just calmly stared at her before saying, “We aren’t getting into details of the trial, as you know that is illegal. The side she takes doesn’t matter—she merely wants to discuss travel plans and what Pilar is doing in his preparation. They are on speaking terms, which surprises even me. She is also worried about your wellbeing, whether you believe it or not.”

Nell let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “Oh my god, you can’t be serious. Why would she be worried about my wellbeing?”

Again, it was just another straightforward look at her before he replied, “Because you are a young girl and you are going through something possibly traumatic. Who wouldn’t be worried about you?” Those sympathetic words were spoken listlessly. Even when he tried, the man still managed to make a situation worse.

Nell literally could not believe her ears. He so easily fell for whatever Jane fed him, believed her as if she were the messiah and he the apostle. “If she was concerned about my wellbeing,” Nell said coldly, “then she wouldn’t be inventing lies.”

He started to walk away into the kitchen, and she instantly drew herself up from the chair to hurry after him. “She is lying cover for your error,” he said, his back to her. “You used your element, and we are trying to avoid the government getting involved.”

She wanted to scream at him for being so blind and ignorant. “Why would she have to lie about it being first-degree murder if she only needed to lie about how it—“ Her throat constricted around the the words. Talking about killing her mother was not very good. León didn’t offer her a comforting hug or any fatherly gesture, and she was very grateful for that. “Nell,” he started, and his voice was strangely soft. No, not soft. Just…lighter. “She’s grieving. She was very close to Mia, and—“

“Bull. Shit,” Nell said, her voice rising. “She abandoned Mia twice. If she was close to her, she would have helped her instead of doing whatever the fuck she did all those years.”

León’s gaze turned sharp and he said, “Nell Doe Sinclair Fuentes, you will watch your mouth—“ Shaking her head so that her bangs flew around her face around she said, “Don’t ever call me that. And don’t ever try to lecture me. You may be my father, but I’ll be damned before I let you talk to me like one. You had that chance eleven years ago, don’t try to take control now.” Her voice wasn’t as strong as others may be in anger, and she wasn’t very intimidating—she was just a shaking little girl, eyes glaring at the man who she hated most in the world. And as León lived in his adult, mature world, he probably thought this was completely ridiculous and juvenile. But she didn’t care. She hated the way he was, everything he did to her and hated the way he thought he could be involved in her life.

Her father turned back around, and said, “I will not speak to you when you’re like this, Nell. It would be best if you went home.” She squared her shoulders, and shook her head. There was nothing more she’d want right now—Nell needed to get away from him and think about what Jane was really planning to do. What she said was the truth. The woman didn’t want anything good from her, and as she lefted the mansion tensely. She thought the shit hit the fan long ago, but Jane brought even more shit with her. Nell was going out of her mind, trying to think of what to do. What could she do? Nothing, you’re powerless. That was the worst part. She couldn’t tell Jane to do anything, but the woman had more power right now than her. She better not try anything, I’ve got shit on her too. But nothing that could bring her down really. And she would have talked to her father about that if she hadn’t gotten so pissed at him. There was a lot of things she wanted to talk to him about, but he made it such a huge ordeal that she more often blew up at him.

music: infra-red by placebo
notes: <3
credit: post template made by mem of OTE

[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

[NELL DOE DALE]

cut away, clear away, slip away and sever this

umbilical residue keeping me from killing you

december 5th-11th



It didn’t feel fair, the state going first in testifying—it was like being up to bat in baseball. They got to say their side of the story first, and by they, she meant the District Attorney. Pilar was dressed in his suit that probably cost more than her own outfit, and she would like to make a snide comment about that if he wasn’t so scary. She didn’t think her grandmother was here, because it wasn’t like she cared about her granddaughter. It was interesting to see him and her father interact. It had been years since they’d even seen each other, and it showed in how civil they were as they shook hands and talked in low voices. Spanish, of course, which other language would they be speaking? She thought it ironic that it was a Spaniard prosecuting her on behalf of the American justice system.

However, her lawyer said that all she had to worry about was her testimony. And it was true, with Jane out of the way and her own testimony invalid. Interpol had arrested her on charges of racketeering even before she crossed the border. Nell didn’t have to worry about that anymore, and since she was one of her biggest contestors, that should have made the girl feel more at ease. It didn’t. All she could focus on was the fact she was nauseated and that the Alka-Seltzer was not helping. She did not even want to drink the water that was put on the table. And so it went for six days, the lack of testimonies and witnesses helping it move along rather quickly. There was really only her and the policeman who found her. She didn’t know whether this would help or hinder her. All she knew was that she hated her grandfather more than she hated anyone in the world in his cross-examination. Because of course his questions would center around her and her mother and he had a way of making her sound like an idiot in his questions.

”Did you ever cause your mother trouble?”

Pilar was standing, not too close to her, but close enough that she could see that he really wasn’t as old as she wanted him to be. She’d much rather have him hobbling around with a walker, but age hadn’t fully claimed him yet.

Nell didn’t want to answer these questions. She didn’t want to do a lot of things. She hadn’t even wanted to face this trial in the first place, and yet here she was on the stand staring down her grandfather in his tailored suit, doing his job just like someone might in a cubicle, or behind a counter, or anywhere else. He would go home to his wife and his mansion and she wouldn’t even be on his thoughts even though they were family. Not even his own sojn had mattered. And she was expected to bend to his will? There was no other choice. ”What do you mean?” she asked tentatively.

He gestured with his hands, a trait common in most lawyers, she found. ”Ever misbehave, act out?”

”Yeah” she said, and upon realizing how low her voice was, she leaned forward. Can’t lie, don’t fall back on lying about this. ”Every kid acts out to get attention.” And that's all she ever wanted from Mia, to be loved and held by her. It wouldn't happen.

”So you felt like you never got attention from your mother.”

It wasn’t a question, and so she didn’t even want to respond to it. But Nell knew she had to. ”Not good attention,” she answered. In the beginning, it was no attention at all since Mia focused on Tilly. Should she say this? Should she spill everything she kept lock up to this room full of strangers. Well, mostly strangers.

”Yes, you’ve mentioned the alleged abuse,” he said, and she hated the way he said ‘alleged’, but she understood that without evidence, everything was ‘alleged’. Luckily, there was her doctor from the hospital to testify that some wounds she had could not have been inflicted on herself. The information now being presented to the world made her uncomfortable. It felt like she wasn’t even a person anymore, she was just an animal to be prodded at and dissected. She guessed that’s what she’d always been—an object. To her mother she was something to take her anger out on, to Jane she was a chance at redemption, and to her father she was atonement. In the eyes of the law, she was just someone ‘innocent until proven guilty’. ”How often was the alleged abuse?”

Nell hated these questions. How in the world was she supposed to answer that? How did she measure so many years of torture? Did he want specific dates, hours like it was a job? What was supposed to do? She needed to appeal to the court, but she didn’t know how. ”Often enough for it to be considered abuse,” she responded a bit coldly. Wait, should she be more sympathetic? How was she supposed to do that with Pilar?

”What kind of things would she do to you?”

She felt that it was crossing the line, but her lawyer did not object and she clenched her jaw. What was she supposed to say? Grudgingly and in a small voice, she vaguely described a few incidents—what Mia did after her sister died, what she did after Nell cut her hair in frustration from being called by her sister’s name, and she couldn’t even go to far before she stopped short and just stared blankly at her grandfather. He looked back clinically, as if not bothered. Because he certainly wasn’t. She was merely an object to him.

”You also claimed that Mia Sinclair never let you—or your sister—out of the house. Why is that?”

She shrugged. Her stomach felt weak and her entire composure felt like it was about to break. ”She didn’t trust the world anymore, I guess.”

”So you never went outside in your entire life?”

”I’d sneak out. To go to the library mostly.”

”Your mother never caught you?

”Not until the night in question, no.” The night in question was obviously when the murder happened.

”Can you tell me about that day beforehand?”

It was bad enough, having to talk about the abuse, and now he wanted her to talk about the day of the murder, or the crime, or whatever they wanted to call it. She went into as much detail as her sanity would allow, and left it vague in places where she knew that Pilar could assume what had occurred. The entire thing was emotionally and mentally taxing, and she wanted it to be over with. By the time the jury left to deliberate, she didn’t know whether she cared if she went to jail or not. She was desperately hoping that she could be done with it, because the flourescent lights were hurting her sleep-deprived eyes.

The jury took a long time. She could have asked her lawyer whether or not that was a good thing, but she was to nervous to open her mouth. The glass of water sat untouched as she folded her hands on the table. Should she be showing different emotions? Could the judge and the stenographer see what she was feeling? Did remorse show, as they all wanted? Similar questions had went through herm ind the first time she’d set foot in the courtroom. She didn’t know whether she should be crying or not. Did she look unsympathetic to the jury? Too cold? Too impersonal? I regret it. But was she portraying that right? The entire world out there knew about this trial, and she didn't want to know what they thought of her. There were too many questions, and the minutes felt like hours as she played with a thread on her dress.

They filed back out to their little box, some mutterings shattering the clinical silence. It only took a moment for them to settle and Nell chose to foxus her eyes on the judge. That is until one of the jurors stood, paper in hand. Nell’s eyes were steady as she waited for him to speak. The stillness unsettled her, and when his voice came she ducked her head to brace herself for the words.

“We the jury find the defendant not guilty of first degree murder.”

The judge went on to state the conditions and technicalities seamlessly. Nothing changed. Nothing happened. It was still eerie and quiet, only broken b the judge’s voice. And as the man spoke, Nell realized what the words ‘not guilty’ meant. ‘Matricide’ was replaced with ‘justifiable homicide’ and ‘self-defense’ as the judge went on, helping Nell along with her epiphany. No sentencing. No parole. No money to be paid, not dues to be met—because honestly, what she’d endured for years was enough payment. Next thing she knew, she was shaking hands with herh lawyer with a tiny smile, her body weighing day. She could walk out those doors and leave forever. She couldn’t read her grandfather’s expression when they shook hands, always professional. But in her mind, there was one triumphant thought: I won.

music: orestes by a perfect circle
notes: <3
credit: post template made by mem of OTE

[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

[NELL DOE DALE]

what have i become? my sweetest friend...

everyone i know goes away in the end

march 20th, 2012



“I see you looking cat, don’t even think about it,” Nell warned Pablo as she placed two cards together to add another story to her cardhouse. The kitty stared intently at the structure, and she could read mischief in his eyes. Needless to say, just as she addressed him, he hopped onto the coffee table and knocked over the cards she had set up. He batted at them as they landed on the table and she sighed. “This is why I can't have nice things,” she told him, clearly not upset. It usually took effort to bother her anyway, but her spirits were very high lately, ironic considering the fact that he only family left her once again. But Josh’s proposal gave her hope. It was funny thinking of how her hand had been of great interest lately, and the congratulations filled her with glee. It was even funnier thinking of how she had been suffering from depression before, because she felt like she had forgotten just how good she had it. She was living a life that she never thought possible just two years before. She had an apartment, was going to college, had a job, and got engaged.

She had resubscribed to her addage of ‘carpe diem’ and living each day for what its worth. Card houses weren’t very exciting, but that was because she was decompressing from work. Even though she wouldn’t admit it, the job was pretty stressful. She loved the kids, but she was kept busy all day. And she liked that. As she cleaned up the cards, she blinked when she heard a knock on the door. She was still in her work clothes, so she wasn’t concerned about appearances for whoever the guest was even though she had long since kicked off her shoes. Sliding back the deadbolt, she opened the door to a man she thought she’d never see again. Surprise reigning supreme, her only instinct was to move and shut the door. However, her father placed his arm against the door. And there he stood. Imposing, large, in-your-face. She liked to compare him to a brick wall. Sometimes she believed he was thick as. “Nell,” he stated, and she wondered if that was supposed to be a greeting or what.

“What are you doing here?” was the first question she picked out of the multitude she had in her head. She thought that maybe it would be the first that should be asked.

”I want to talk to you,” he responded in Spanish, and he was almost enough to make her hate the language.

”That’s a crying shame, because I don’t want to talk to you,” she said pointedly as she arched her eyebrows, the rage she thought she had gotten over flooding through her now. Only a few people could make her feel like this—he was one of the privileged few.

”Please let me in, Nell.”

She would have otherwise rejected him, but it was the ‘please’ that made her stop. Please. He never used words like that, words that debased him like that. His eyes were actually imploring, and her expression remained stern. Nell stepped aside as he brushed past and entered, and she closed the door behind him. He stood there for a moment, and she remembered that he actually had manners. ”Have a seat,” she said, nodding her head toward the recliner diagonal to the couch. León seemed to tak a moment to observe the mess that Pablo had made, and moved to scratch the cat under his chin. Don’t touch my cat, asshole, she thought as she sat on the couch, legs crossed as she leaned back. She felt as if her anger gave her power, and she knew that she was pretty much in control of the situation. Or at least, she hoped.

Instead of being a gracious hostess, Nell immediately started in on the questioning again. “How did you find out my address?” She was particularly irked about this, the fact that she seemed so easy to track for him, and yet he could disappear for years without her ever knowing where he was.

”Your neighbors at your old apartment informed me that you moved,” he said, opting for English, flattening his tie. He was impeccably dressed, as always, almost looking like he wasn’t the asshole she knwe him to be. ”They gave me your new address. You keep in touch with them?” If she didn’t know any better, she’d have thought he was ridiculing her for making friends with people like the Lisowskis. But he was not like his family in the fact that he understood what it was like to be them, and to be like anyone else who struggled—living with his wife and children, he was no longer the son of the affluent Pilar and Veronica Fuentes. Bet he was glad to get out of that life, she thought, not bothering to hold back on the resentment. He deserved all of it. You deserve it as well. And her thoughts were turned back on her with a biting force.

She didn’t respond to him. Nell did not regret telling the Lisowskis her new address or keeping in touch. “Where did you go?” she started off, delicately handling the situation when she had a very strong desire to slap him across the face.

He didn’t sigh as other people might have, simply kept his demeanor as formidable and unreadable as ever. ”Not far,” he told her. That was rather vague, and she clenched her jaw. It was amazing how speaking to him could make her this angry when it was usually an emotion rarely experienced.

More questions, more things she wanted answers to. He was here, and she was going to use it for all it was worth even though she didn’t have an idea as to why he came back. “Why do you keep doing this to me?” Nell asked, her voice carrying a hard edge to it. It didn’t sound desperate, for which she was glad.

His face was in its usual calm, stoic expression as their brown eyes met. “Because I’m human. Just like you.” He lifted his eyebrow, as if making a point. She caught on quickly. This unspoken connection always unnerved her.

She was also to blame, and they both knew why he left this time. Well, mostly. “I was going through a lot,” she told him, almost resenting the fact that she had to explain to him. “I know I shouldn’t have ignored you, but I was scared and unsure…and I thought you’d wait. I thought you’d be there. You know, usually when people come back, they’re supposed to stay.” She stopped short, noticing that her voice was now bordering on desperate. She couldn’t have that, now could she. “You didn’t have to move. Why did you?”

“I wouldn’t want to see you again knowing that you hate me.”

The words struck hard and deep. It made her realize just how true his words were—they were both human. He feared being hurt as much as she did. He was still her father no matter what, it was something that time couldn’t erase. The anger began to drain from her, leaving her exhausted. “I don’t hate you,” she told him, her voice fatigued. “I don’t think I ever could.” Even though you’ve been the crappiest father in the world. She didn’t want to hurt him anymore, so she didn’t say it out loud. It was strange to acknowledge this, but it was just her. She didn’t want to hurt anyone. However, they both knew he just wasn’t meant to be a father. And now that she saw him as human, she wanted to give him something. Deep down, beneath the anger and bitterness and hurt, she knew that she wanted to do something to keep them from drifting apart. That’s not what she wanted the world to be, and she realized this when Josh proposed. She wouldn’t worry about people leaving anymore, because she was going to protect her loved ones fiercely.

”What am I to you, Nell?”

She had a lot of time to think about this. A lot of time that he had missed. She knew the answer by now, and she was now confident enough to tell him, her eyes sharp, but not unkind. “You’re someone I want in my life. You’re my friend. You’re mi familia. Don’t we deserve that, Papa? After all we’ve been through, I think we do.”

Neither of them had family, it was something they shared. She didn’t know many of the details behind what happened with his parents, all she knew was that he did not like them and there was a wide disconnect. They were the only blood relation they had that could still make it. They hadn’t reached the point of no return, when nothing either of them could do would salvage the remains.

“I think we do, too,” he said, and she couldn’t read him as she would have liked to, but his tone was softer than usual. ”I’m sorry for everything.”

Again, those strange words coming from his mouth. She remembered him saying something similar last year, remembering them as an attempt to get into her good graces. They hadn’t been sincere then. It was different now. Nell knew that back then, he didn’t really care about her because he didn’t know who she was. And so he simply fit her into the image of the little girl he had known before. They had clearly moved on from that point.

”Don’t be,” she said, voice strong now. ”Just tell me if you’re going to stay.” She wouldn’t let herself be hurt this time, because he had a chance to say if he wanted to be out of her life. As long as she got warning, it would be okay. It would sting, but not as much as abandonment.

Their eyes met again and this time there was understanding between them. ”I’m staying,” he told her, and his voice sounded certain. ”I’ll just have to buy the mansion back and get my old job…”

Nell rolled her eyes. ”Can’t believe you did that.” Every time she thought back to his words about her hating him, her defenses were whittled. There didn’t need to be anymore hate. It was just tiresome when both parties knew that they deserved better. And Nell was starting to see that. After all she’d been through and all she suffered, she deserved one blood relation.

The silence grew awkward until León cleared his throat and she looked back at him. “So, that…” he said, inclining his head to the arm resting on the back of the couch. It was clear what he’d been indicating. She realized then that he’d had his eyes on the ring for half the time that he’d been speaking to her.

She gave him a knowing smile and said, “Josh liked it, so he put a ring on it.”

His lips twitched into a smirk, and she could have sworn she saw his chest rise in an almost-laugh. Of course, she’d never know. Nell didn’t know what his reaction would be, and she knew that she wouldn’t care. What he said wouldn’t change her mind. So it surprised him when he spoke.

“I’m happy for you.”

It was strange, the impact of those words. She was used to his disapproval and his scorn. She almost expected him to pull out Mia and him as an argument, that they had married young, that Mia had been eighteen as well. She was already knocked up, Nell thought, and she could think these things easily now that it didn’t feel so tense. There were many differences between their situations. He was happy for her. She liked that. She may not have went out of her way to make him proud, but it was nice to have his approval. After what he’d put her through, this felt good. They finally seemed to have come to a comfortable medium with their lives and how they entwined. “Thank you,” she said, her voice calm. He wasn't a very sentimental person, this is as close as he'd get.

“I still don’t like him,” he said. She rolled her eyes, guessed that it was something with all fathers and their daughters, no matter what kind of relationship they had. “But that’s because no one is good enough for you, mija.” She smirked, letting out a breathy laugh as she ducked her head. She begged to differ—Josh was the best thing she had.

He leaned back and said, ”You know what this means? We have to tell the family.” She lifted an eyebrow at her father as he went on, ”Your grandfather will be pleased to hear about this.”

She grinned. ”Hey, can you call people in Sing Sing?” Nell was pretty sure that that was the prison Jane was being detained in, but León shook his head. ”Only visits I think.” Nell was a bit disappointed in this, because she would very much like Jane to find out. She was one person she wouldn’t mind hurting. His expression seemed to lighten for a moment as he considered. ”There is one person I know that would actually like to hear. Juanvi.” She knew that to be an affectionate nickname for Juan Vicente—her great grandfather. Nell had never met the man, but it was nice to know that not every Fuentes was a despotic asshole. And it was nice to know that her father wouldn’t be giving her anymore problems when it came to her relationship with Josh. Maybe he realized it was a lost cause, or maybe he understood now what she wanted frm him, what they wanted from each other. Familia.

music: hurt by johnny cash
notes: <3
credit: post template made by mem of OTE

[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

[NELL DOE DALE]

you were my greatest mistake

i fell in love with your sin, your littlest sin

august 25th, 2012

It was sinfully hot, the kind of hot when Nell used to take her mother’s jewelry from the freezer and dress herself in the jade pendants and emerald rings, back before she knew such a thing as central air existed. Now it was just a part of her life as she turned the air up in her car, held her hand against the vents to make sure it was coming out. Her father’s house had now become a permanent idea in her mind, immoveable. The key he gave her only emphasized that, and she used it to open the French doors when she arrived, closing them behind her with one hand, in the other was a bottle of wine, Chateau Mouton Rothschild. She called and told him that she’d be over to celebrate his success, something about dendrites and osteocytes that would be helpful in studying bone cancer. The pride she felt almost concerned her. It used to be like that between them, but she’d been comfortable with the pride in a time long past. Today, she didn’t even feel the yearning to replace his light bulbs with potatoes. Her first destination was the kitchen, as her father knew that she always liked to be in there.

She had memorized it by now, the counter behind the island, a quasi-dining room beyond. She’d hung up some rhododendrons from hooks in the ceiling. He didn’t even need to care for them much, there was a lot of sun in there. It was her favorite room, but she stopped short before heading through the doorway, shoe making a soft squeaking noise against the wood.

“You are so fucking full of it.”

Who is that? Her brow creased into confused lines, and she walked through the arch, sunlight immediately falling onto her from the windows. León sat on a chair next to the glass table, ankle crossed over his knee and hair perfectly parted from the side. A young man facing away from her had his hand on the table, knuckles bleeding white. He wore half-inch gauges that she wanted to poke her finger through, a plaid shirt, tight jeans. León looked over to his daughter and the boy turned to face her as well. It was startling to see her own brown eyes, her broad forehead, her smooth cheekbones.

“Hello, Nell,” her father said, voice fatigued.

The doppleganger pointed a finger at her, like an accusation. “This is Nell?” he asked León , and she felt like an interloper. On what, she didn’t know.

Her face broke into a grin. “I am,” she said, voice like calm water. “And you are…?”

It seemed both of the men wanted to answer at the same time, but León beat him to iit. “Nell, this is Rafael, your half-brother.”

The words didn’t connect at first. The synapses in her brain hummed, neurons at rest, before her body slammed back into gear. She passed her gaze from León to Rafael, like drawing a line between them. “Your…son?” she said slowly, and León nodded. Features stark and plain. No guilt, nothing.

Rafael scoffed, hands in his jeans’ pockets. “You’re the bitch who killed her mother, right?” She didn’t answer that question, but noticed how her father closed his eyes for a moment. “Yeah, I’m his daughter and I’m going to kick his ass.” He said nonchalantly, a fact. Inevitable.

Hearing the intent behind those words, Nell hurried around the kitchen island, placing the bottle of wine on the counter, and grabbed the spray hose, turning on the faucet just as Rafael grabbed his father by the collar, lifting him up from the seat. Water doused his shirt and he let go so he could wipe at it, as if his hands could dry the damage. It looked like he had sweat through his clothes from the heat. “Fucking cunt,” he muttered.

Nell raised her eyebrows at them, still holding up the hose. “Half-brother?”

“I’ll explain later.” León, now standing up, blinked at Rafael. “Will you leave or should I have you escorted out.”

In Rafael’s eyes, Nell saw the anger and the hate, but also the hurt. “Fine, fuck this,” the boy said, throwing his arm up. “Don’t even know why I bothered.”

His footsteps were quite despite his venomous words, and Nell waited until she heard the front door shut to round on León. “It’s later. Explain,” her curt words flew from her mouth like knives.

He was too calm, too placid. His elbow rested on the table, and unlike him, she could see straight through it, to the linoleum tiled floor.

“During a bad time with your mother, I met another woman.“ Matter-of-fact, monotone as the pre-recorded voice on an answering machine. “We had Rafael together. I told her that I couldn‘t marry her, that I was already with someone else.” His smile was hollow, barely there. León held up his hand, and she didn’t realize that she was supposed to focus on it until she saw the pink line stretching from his pinkie to his wrist. “She assaulted me with a curling iron.”

She didn’t want to hear this. She wanted to cry, break something. Wanted to shrink away and hide. “You cheated on my mother?” My mother, the possessive noun. Protective, defensive.

“I’m not proud of it.”

“I fucking hope you‘re not,” she said, feeling the adrenaline ballooning her. She didn’t censor herself with him, he deserved every dagger that came from her mouth. “You told me when you first came back that you never stopped loving Mia. And you’re telling me now that you had an affair?” Nell tried to remember any days when he came home late, or when he left for the weekends. But she realized he could have been anywhere he wanted, and no one would know. Mia didn’t talk to people, she wouldn’t have been able to hear it on the wind.

“It didn’t have anything to do with love.”

She felt like he struck her in some place she couldn’t even recognize. You disgust me. She clutched the counter, wondering if she could dig into granite. “How long were you with this woman? With Rafael?”

It all seemed like it was nothing to him. A secret in the past he thought he could bury without any repercussions. Every man had his regrets, but Nell wouldn‘t allow him to get away with this. The man told her, “A little while. It became too difficult to support them as time went on. It was never meant to last. Rafael was too much trouble, and she didn’t know how to handle anything.”

So calm, she wanted to do something to shake him up. But the yelling never worked, even the quietness. He was an oak tree, rooted deep into the earth. “Nothing is ever meant to last with you.” Her voice was acrid as the desert. In that moment, she realized something about her father. He couldn’t be around damaged people. He didn’t know how to deal with it. It made her want to bare all to him, show how fucked up she was because of him leaving her to Mia, reveal herself as a festered wound. People who weren’t like him, who couldn’t handle themselves like him, scared him.

“It was a mistake, Nell.”

Her voice was thick with so many things. “A mistake that lasted how long?”

There was a silence. He traced a thick finger on the counter, watched the patterns of white and blue underneath like they would give him an answer. “I just sent her money for Rafael. I wanted nothing else to do with her.”

She felt a moment of pity for the woman, so easily cast aside. But she felt pity for her mother, as well, and that won out above all. She hadn’t thought she could ever reach this level of rage, but it had to be what was pulling through her, there was no other word for it. “What is Rafael doing in Canada?”

“He’s an elemental.” León shrugged. “He heard from the news, and came over to confront me. I told him I didn’t want anything to do with him, told him that you were coming over and he should leave. He wanted to pay me back for ‘using‘ and abandoning his mother. Or I could give him money for her, he said. Preferably both.”

She snorted, the sound high, incredulous. “Oh my god, you’re unbelievable.” Always far too blunt, that was his method of conversation. No holding back. “Did you tell him that the reason you didn’t stay with his mother was because of Mia?”

There was a nod and he paused.

“Of course.” She couldn’t calm down. Couldn’t think right. “Should have let him kick your ass.”

“Maybe.”

Nell didn’t know what else she could say to him. She wanted to rip him apart for what he did to her mother, for what he did to the families. For what he kept from her like she’d never find out about it. But she couldn’t find the words, not know. Information overloaded in her head, and memories came back like jetsam in a wreck floating to the surface. She turned and began to walk away, before stepping back. “I’m taking the wine too,” she said lowly as she grabbed the bottle off the counter. She decided she’d down it all at home, maybe in a night, she didn’t really care at this point.

music: feel good drag by anberlin
notes: <3
credit: post template made by mem of OTE

[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

[NELL DOE DALE]

you touch her skin and then you think

that she is beautiful but she don't mean a thing to me.

october 15th, 2012

Nell stepped into the foyer, glancing around at the furnishings, the archways, a house too big for a man who lived alone. One could argue that after living so long in the projects, he deserved it. She didn’t know if she could measure such a thing, how much he deserved. She didn’t believe in karma, just in the actions of man and how they affected those around them. How her father affected her. She walked into the kitchen, knowing that he’d come around eventually and find her. Thinking that she didn’t want to waste too much time here, she called out, “Papa!” and returned to pulling out something to drink from the refrigerator.

“Hey, Nell, what’s up?” Rafael greeted in Spanish, and she turned around to look in the small adjacent room to the kitchen with a blank stare. He walked up to the counter with swagger he didn’t even have, and leaned against the island with a cocky little smirk situated on his face.

She poured a glass of iced tea, and replaced it in the fridge before asking, “What are you doing here?”

“Father son bonding,” he replied, and the expression on his face prickled at her skin. “He’s in the back yard.”

She leaned against the counter and sipped out of the glass, regarding him with a cold stare. “What are you doing here?” she repeated.

“Well, we got to talking,” he said amiably, lifting a hand up for added gestures, “and turns out that he’s actually easily swayed.” He held up a piece of paper, and upon recognizing what it was, she placed the cup on the counter and walked around the island so that she was face-to-face with him.

“Knew the old man would give in, huh,” he said, and she noted that he said ‘huh’ like she did, prayed that it was just a Hispanic thing.

“So what do you need the money for?”

He shrugged. “Right now? Angela’s medical bills.”

“Such a sweetheart, aren’t ya?” she said with a smile. “I bet she just loves you for taking care of her.”

“Oh, she does.” And he winked at her. She wanted to scratch his eyes out, break his wrists so he could never touch her friend in any way. These thoughts might have been concerning any other time, but she knew she wouldn’t follow through. She would put him through whatever she could, but she wouldn’t lay a hand on him.

She had no retort for that, but she didn’t need one, because a thought came to her then. Angela’s medical bills. “Why are you paying for them?”

“Her grandparents are away.”

She knew that he was a liar, and her eyes narrowed to prove as much. Angela was a minor, her grandparents would pay for the bills, and that meant questions about what had happened. Maybe she was wrong and was assuming the worst, but how could she with what she saw? If he didn’t have the money, her grandparents would find out and Angela couldn’t hide then. As much as she wanted to help the girl feel safe, she knew she’d never be safe with Rafael.

“Maybe there’ll be some left over.”

He flicked the check, smirk on his face. She saw the ungodly amount of zeros, and in that moment, what she needed to do was clear. Quick and quiet, she stepped forward and snatched the slip of paper, instantly pivoting to run down the hall. She could tell from Rafael’s heavy footsteps that he was close after her, but she had small stature and light weight on her side. He was a bolder compared to her light footwork, and for once she was thankful for her shortness. She found a bathroom and slipped in, slamming the door closed and locking it as she rooted around the cabinet under the sink.

“Aha,” she breathed when she found the matchbox, but her thankful exclamation was drowned out by the hammering at the door.

“Dammit, open the fucking door,” Rafael said. He was a lot like their father—he didn’t have to be loud to be intimidating. “I’m going to kill you, bitch.”

She rolled her eyes, lighting the match. “Yeah, cuz that’s gonna make me open the door,” she muttered as she held the check over the sink, watching with glee as the check burned up. She turned on the faucet before the flame could do any damage to the porcelain, watching a few moments as it washed the ash away, carrying ink with it.

“Nell!” he shouted, and it was funny to her, because she was behind the door and what would an angry call of her name help? After replacing the matchbox under the sink, Nell lifted up the window, looked down. They were on the first floor, and so she slid out into the backyard, slipped around the porch and the into the sunroom. If she wanted to get her bag that she’d left in the kitchen, she’d have to be careful about it. She opened the porch door quietly, slipping in before finding her way to one of the back hallways. Not paying attention to anything behind her, she was feeling successful until she felt a hand on her arm and a voice say, “Boo.” Fuck.

She turned around to see Rafael in all his pissed glory. He pinned her against the wall, hand gripping the collar of her shirt, and in a moment of hysterical fear she thought of how much he was stretching it. She pulled at his wrist in vain, hated that he was so much stronger than her in pure physical might. When he raised his fist she closed her eyes instinctively, gasping as it felt like a small bomb exploded in her cheek. She felt tears tickle her eyelashes from the sheer pain, and was in no state to stop Rafael as he gripped her by the hair and aimed another punch to her stomach. While she was waiting for whatever was to come next, it took a moment to register that her brother no longer held her against her will and opened her eyes in time to see her father crack Rafael in the jaw. This blew her mind. Never had she ever seen her father get violent. It was like seeing a goat walk on its hind legs.

“She destroyed the fucking check,” Rafael said, rubbing at his cheek, his eyes shimmering.

“You don’t touch my daughter,” León said matter-of-factly, oh so serious, and it would have sounded like such a wonderful sentiment if it wasn’t her father and she didn’t know better.

Rafael glared at her, and she could only glower back weakly, feeling like a chihuhua in the path of a Doberman Pinscher. Strands of hair poked out at odd ends, looking like she just rolled out of bed, and she was sure there was a lovely shiner where he punched her. She kept her gaze steady as she leaned against the wall, breathing coming in shallow as her stomach clenched from the pain.

“Aren’t you fucking lucky, getting everything you want?” he said, voice carrying a low current.

She almost laughed in bitterness. “Yeah.” Her voice was mostly breath. “Clearly.”

“You need to write me another,” Rafael said almot calmly to his father.

“I’ll think about it.” It was clear from the older man’s voice that he wasn’t going to and he was only speaking to satiate his son. Could Rafael tell this? They were both his children. She thought about something she read before, that even kids who were seperated from their parents at birth and met up later in life found that they had the same traits and mannerisms as their parents. Your parents are in your bones. She was sure both Rafael and her could feel their father.

He started to walk down the hall, and came dangerously close to her, but only brushed her shoulder like a warning before leaving. She was still against the wall, collecting as much air in her lungs as possible, her breath disturbing the loose strands of her hair. “C’mon, mija,” León said, nodding his head toward the kitchen before walking there. Her face was pulsating, she could almost hear the hum fo the pain there. She pulled herself up, walked down the hallway, vision a little blurred. She opened the freezer, not expecting to find much, thus it surprised her when she pulled out a bag of mixed vegetables.

“Why do you have this?” she questioned as she took it out of the fridge. He only used the freshest of ingredients when cooking, and the thought crossed her mind with sardonicism.

“For when my children start throwing punches,” he stated and she actually laughed, but whether it was with humor was left up to question.

She placed the bag against her face, the cold soothing her eye. She walked into the living room so she could lay down on a couch with it on her face, and León followed. Sometimes his silence scared her, he was always far too quiet. She settled in, her hand on her stomach, shoes off and feet resting on the arm of the couch. Nell looked up at the ceiling. “What was her name?”

She caught him just as he was sitting in one of the big chairs, and he asked, “Who?”

“Rafael’s mother. What was her name?”

“Why do you want to know?”

Nell pulled herself up some, letting the bag slip. “Because I want to know more about my past, that’s why.”

“Not your past,” he said, “my past.”

“Have you ever thought that what you do affects everyone around you? Your past is my past, Papa, so tell me her name.”

“Alicia.”

What else could she ask? What else did she want to know? A lot of things, but how would she be able to bring all of it up? When? How much was too much at once? She knew that he could tell her things that she would hate him for, that she would hate herself for, but she wanted to know. “How’d you meet her?”

“Nell, please,” and he sounded exhausted.

“Tell me, I want to know how you met the woman you had an affair with. But please, no romance.” That would make her sick, hearing how they met gazes and it all just clicked, how she was the most beautiful thing that he’d ever seen.

“There wasn’t any romance. We met on a train.”

“Sounds romantic.” She slid back down on the couch, eyes flicking to her father. “What kind of trouble were you having with my mother?”

“That’s personal, between me and Mia.”

“You mean you and a memory,” she told him, and the words twisted her already pained stomach. “What was going on that Tilly and I didn’t know about? What did you hide from us?”

“It was trouble,” he said simply. “When you’re married, you’ll understand.”

The anger was surprising in its strength and abruptness. “What, I’ll understand infidelity when I’m married? Don’t hold me to your standards.” And she muttered a word she shouldn’t have called her father, but cochino suit him in her opinion. No, she didn’t understand him at all. Maybe he was right and she could understand the trouble he and her mother may have been going through, but to cheat on Josh? No, that was not even an entertainable thought. She didn’t even want to understand, it made her ill.

“Any more questions, Nell? What else would you like to dig up?”

She sat upright now, wincing before glaring at him. This is why they could never talk, because he had such a tactful way with words. “A lot of things, León. I’m sick of this bullshit with Rafael. So tell me straight, is there anything else you have to hide or can I sleep at night without thinking of what else may be lurking in the depths of my past?”

“My past.”

“Our past!” Her voice was rising, and so she repeated her words levelly, “Our past.” She was almost tempted to tell him her deepest worries, how terrified she was that she knew there was quite possibly things in her history that she couldn’t even remember. It may help to convince him, but she could never open up to him like that. But then again, maybe she did want to open up, bare all. She remembered how she wanted to show him the wounds, what his actions did to her so he wouldn’t be able to run from his mistakes anymore. “Did you really think you cheating on my mother wouldn’t affect me in any way?” She shook her head, it was starting to sound more like a moot point by the minute. “Do you even know why Rafael wanted that check? He beat his girlfriend, my friend, and she had to go to the hospital. He’s my problem now, and I can’t promise that I won’t flip take him out.”

León held his hands in front of him, looked down at them. “What do you want me to say? Are you forgetting that some things may be painful for me to talk about?” He said it so tonelessly, she wouldn’t believe it if she didn’t remind herself that he was human, too. “I loved your mother. I loved you, and I loved Till. But that doesn’t mean I don’t make mistakes. You should understand regret.”

She sunk down, the moisture on her face now bothersome. Regret. Nell liked to pretend she didn’t have it, but then again, she ignored the past when she could. It just liked to come back and knock on her door, reminding her that it never ended. “Then just get it out. I’m tired of the secrets.” She wanted to stop carrying the past around like a lame foot, just waiting for the rest of her leg to give out, and then her body, until she couldn’t work anymore. “Why can’t anyone just talk?” It was more like a general pondering. “We should be able to talk about our past, Papa, you know…compare notes.”

This made him suspicious, she saw it in his eyes, but he didn’t ask. “People are people.”

Is that all he had? Would he always just be a brick wall that she couldn’t get to? She wanted more from her father. They had promised each other a family, and here they were. She hated family, she hated blood. Nothing held family together save for that. She loved her sister, but it wasn’t even because she had been her sister. She had loved Tilly for everything she was, for her secret smiles, for the way she spoke of fairy tales like they were reality, the way she focused so hard at the simplest games. And she had loved her father for his stability and support, for mentoring her and loving her, not because he held the title of padre. With her mother, it was different, but that was something she didn’t like to explore. People weren’t only people, they were fathers and daughters and sisters and she decided that she didn’t want any of that. She wanted the people she loved, not relatives who’d rather see her unhappy. She wanted to ask her father, Do you love me? But the answer scared her.

Nell dropped the bag onto one of the tables, and stood up. “Thanks,” she said, tone unreadable. She guessed she’d never know with her father, and this made her afraid. Would she ever be able to ask the important things if he only blocked her off? One day it might happen, but how long? She wanted everything now, because who knew about what would happen later?

music: tiny vessels by death cab
notes: <3
credit: post template made by mem of OTE

[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

[NELL DOE DALE]

i was a heartbreaker i loved you the same way i do

but i've got so much wickedness and sin.

november 1st, 2012

Nell didn’t answer the phone in the car. She may have been a lax driver, but she was not careless. She glanced at the caller ID for a moment before looking back up at the road. Angela didn’t know about her father, didn’t know she had one, but maybe Rafael had changed that. He may have told her more than Nell would like her to know about, but she’d rather not ask the girl. “Could you get that?” Nell finally asked, and Angela took it out of the cupholder and hit answer before turning it on speakerphone. “Hola, Papa,” she greeted, hoping the rest of the conversation would be in Spanish too. Usually it was, but her father could be unpredictable. She didn’t want to hide anything from Angela, she’d hated it when her grandparents had spoken in their native tongue to other people, but with her father it was usually a conversation that people shouldn’t have to hear. Besides, it was just like going into another room to take a call.

Thankfully, his response was in Spanish. “I have something for you at the house.”

She knew something was off immediately, and not just with their relationship. It was in his voice, something was different. “You all right, Papa?”

“Just a little under the weather, that’s not the point,” he replied evasively.

The Earth girl could have swerved off the road right then and there. Under the weather? He may have said that it like it was nothing, but he was a Fuentes. Fuentes men were too healthy for their own good, it spoke leagues as to why Juanvi was still going strong. They just didn’t get sick. It may have also attributed to her incredible immune system. And that’s why she felt her heart picked up speed. It also spoke a lot for their relationship that she could freak out like this.

“I’m coming over,” she said like it was plain as day. Which it should have been. He knew his daughter well enough to understand what she was like.

“Fine, I want you to pick this up,” he said, pretending not to know the real reason she was coming over.

Nell dropped Angela at her house like she was supposed to do after her dance class. Things had not been tense between them, it was something else. She didn’t know how to describe it, but she didn’t like it. They still hadn’t talked like they should have, and Nell was hating herself more and more each passing day. She then drove to her father’s, using the key to enter, not calling beforehand because he was already expecting her. The man sat on his couch, wearing slacks and a pair of loafers, and she put her hands on her hips as she tilted her head. “What are you doing?”

León looked at her, five o’clock shadow making him look ominous. “Sitting,” he replied. He nodded toward the kitchen, and said, “It’s in there.”

She rolled her eyes, dropping her arms. “Go get changed.”

Instead of heading into the kitchen, she went to the bathroom first to get a thermometer. When she returned from retrieving anymore medical supplies, he at least wore sweat pants. She’d always think it was funny, him in something less than an ironed suit. She held the thermometer out to him and he said, “I don’t have a temperature.”

“Then what is it?” she questioned him.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Will you go in the kitchen?”

She glared at him for a moment, but in that maternal scolding way, before she walked into the kitchen to find what he’d been talking about. On the kitchen table sat his mail, and there was a letter on top. The address caught her eye, and she felt her heart pump out of her chest. Snatching it up, she tore it open like a Christmas present and began to read.

To León and Nell Fuentes:

I am writing you, dear family, to inform you of my release from prison. It’s stellar news, I must say so myself. I wasn’t expecting it so soon, but they had the retrial last month. You see, my lawyer argued against the lack of evidence in my last one, landing me in this darling little correctional facility. Then came business, and one thing came to another, and Mr. Munn told me that I could be placed before a jury soon. The trial went spectacularly! The man who testified as a witness in my first trial unfortunately passed on, and couldn’t be a witness for this one. Therefore, there was insubstantial amount of evidence and a lack of testimony. I’m on parole for a short period of time, but I can live with that.

They are allowing me to leave the country, which is my main concern. My daughter is schooling in Maple Hollow, and I’d like to be around for her. Make up for some of my past mistakes, repent. Prison has changed me, loves. I’m a new woman. You’ll just have to see. I cannot wait to be reunited with my family and see your faces. It’ll indeed be a sight to behold. Until then, to your health!

Yours Truly,
Jane Sinclair

Nell wasn’t sure if she’d just read those words. To make sure, she reread the letter several times, brown eyes scanning the sheet of paper. They’re letting her go. They had a retrial and they’re letting her go. And she’s coming to Canada, to be with her daughter, to be around Nell. She walked out of the kitchen, waving it in her hand. Her father had been watching television, but he muted it to look at her.

“Did you read this?” she questioned, her voice tight.

“It wasn’t opened, was it?” he responded coolly, in that same quiet voice that had told her more than any words could that something was wrong. That was why he wanted her to come over. He wouldn’t open that letter until she was there. He probably didn’t want to touch anything that had passed through Jane’s hand. There might have been anthrax on it or something.

She walked over to him and handed him the envelope with the letter in it. He scanned it over, then looked up at her, and he didn’t even have to make a face, or speak. They both knew.

“A mistrial?” she said. “What could they have missed? She’s a criminal! What more do they need?”

Nell understood that her father was sick and she shouldn’t have been acting like this, but he knew that he always got the worst of her. And this was a very good reason to freak out.

“Evidence, maybe?” he said wearily, placing the envelope on the coffee table, taking his glasses off and rubbing his eyes. She forgot that he wore glasses sometimes. “Plenty of reasons. I’m sure there were quite a few people high in power that were on her side.”

She narrowed her eyes at the envelope as if it had been the one to wrong her. She wanted to tear it up, throw it away, destroy all evidence. Then it wouldn’t exist. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about the impending doom of her aunt moving to Canada. She knew it was not just to be with her daughter, even though Nell could believe that to a point. Perhaps she also wanted to escape from New York. She liked the drama, but not when people would be sniffing around her business. But there was something else, and Nell didn’t like it.

“So…she’s just out, that’s it?”

He nodded, and she looked around. She didn’t need this now. Didn’t want it, didn’t need it, but she tried to think rationally. Maybe the woman would leave her alone. She’d never have to see her, they could have a long-distance relationship. Only meet during family reunions that never happened. That sounded good to Nell.

-

two weeks later.

Nell locked the car before walking into the building. It was large and grand, white and its façade all windows. Slightly intimidating, as a matter of fact, maybe because it seemed brand new. But she was confident, assured in her nice black pants, her white blouse, heels that increased her height to have that extra boost of sureness. It was her first day, but she wasn’t very scared. When she told Ms. Kustack that she was leaving, the woman seemed almost heartbroken. It amazed Nell that she’d affected the woman so much. “We’ll see each other, Stace,” Nell said when the woman pulled her into a hug. Her father was still dating her, which surprised Nell. Another surprising thing was that it made her happy. “I understand,” Ms. Kustack had told her. “Pay here sucks.” It had actually been a downgrade from Blackjack in terms of pay, but she had been fire from that job so it was the best she could do.

The reason she’d gotten the job at the music hall was thanks to connections. For once, the trial had worked in her favor. She had been contacted by a man named Mr. Hart, said he heard about her story and felt terrible pity. In the meeting with him, he gave her candy and he explained that he was the owner of the New Royal Hall and that he wondered if she’d inherited any of her family’s talents. She said she played a bit of piano, was learning sax, but she could in no way actually perform at a hall. “A house coordinator!” he suggested then. “They make sure that everything is going as it should and oversee all the acts and box office and things like that.” It didn’t sound extraordinarily fun, and it must have shown on her face. “It pays exceptionally well. As closest to manager as I can get you.”

She did need a better paying job, thanks to Rafael and what he was holding over her head. And so she’d accepted, wondering if she’d actually enjoy it. She loved music, but she wouldn’t actually be performing. And she certainly didn’t like ordering people around. Nell had good leadership skills, but that was about it. When she walked in, Mr. Hart was standing in a brown tailored suit as if waiting, before shaking her hand and guiding her through on a tour. Did he really want her around because of her family? It was almost flattering if it weren’t the Sinclair. At least their fame seemed to have reached Canada. He guided her through the main hall where the seats were, the huge stage that Nell almost gasped at, and then the back areas, storage rooms and the lighting areas. The dressing rooms were the last destination, down the hall and off to the right as if to hide it. He knocked on it and the voice that told them to, “Come in,” terrified her.

“Ah, Jane, getting ready for tonight?” Mr. Hart asked jovially as he sauntered in, and Jane flashed a smile in his direction. Nell knew right then and there that the woman was a liar. Nothing had changed. The charisma, the charm, the beauty—it was all there as if prison couldn’t touch it. But there was one thing different, and it was her eyes. Nell recognized something in them, and she wanted to run away, turn her back and say that she quit, that she can’t do this.

The room was mostly white, but filled with random things. She saw a boa in the corner, a few cardboard boxes. Jane sat in front of a vanity, pinning up her hair. It was large, and she knew this must have been the room for the performers. “Of course! I like to be punctual, as you’ll find,” she said with a wink, and Mr. Hart laughed, a sound coming deep from his belly. “Nell, I see you’ve got the job?”

For a moment, the girl was speechless. Had Jane known about this? The white-haired man looked between the two before abruptly saying, “Ah! I’ll leave you two ladies alone. I have to go check up on Marsha.”

He left then, and Jane stood up to close the door behind him. Nell stood frozen, but her aunt’s demeanor didn’t change. “Mr. Hart is a fan of your Aunt Isabella’s. She plays in the New York Philharmonic Orchestra. Made quite a splash on the opera scene.”

“Is that how you got this job?” Nell questioned, keeping her voice steady.

Jane sat back down, hands in her hair as she stared into the mirror. “As a matter of fact, yes. I contacted him before I left home, he’d said he’d heard about me.” She shook her head, ironic commas in her smile. “He is fascinated by the morbid and the taboo. He’s one for scandal.” The woman studied her niece with a keen blue gaze, and Nell knew exactly what she meant. They were the Sinclairs. Isabella’s was a siren’s song, she knew the woman’s music too well. “House coordinator?”

Nell shrugged. “Yes. He says it pays well.”

“I’m sure it does,” Jane said. “Have you had vocal training?”

It was almost strange, this interest in her life, but Nell shook her head. “No. I play piano. Some sax.”

Jane’s eyes lit up. “Well, you’re on your way.”

Was she happy that Nell might become someone like her, like their family? What game was she playing now? Nell wanted to ask, but she knew something had changed. Something about Jane now wasn’t very right.

“Will you watch me tonight?” she asked, her smile curving her face again.

“I’ll be working.”

But Nell would watch. She always watched.

music: siren song by bat for lashes
notes: <3
credit: post template made by mem of OTE

[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

[NELL DOE DALE]

and i'm not scared of your stolen power

see right through you any hour.

november 15th, 2012

Nell sat at the desk, tapping her pen against the wood, trying not to get ink on his fancy calendar. Moving the paper she’d been writing on, the girl read the dates—a smile flickered to her face when she saw what looked like a date night. But then she turned her attention back to the paper, a frown tugging at her lips. Scratching the pen back against the paper, she started the new sentence: You best be getting to work on figuring this out. You are trippin’, old man. She scrunched up her nose, sliding the paper off the desk before crumpling it up in her hands. She could call him, but her mind rejected the idea of speaking to any Fuentes—it just didn’t work. Letters were better, in her opinion. Jane had the right idea. Her mind also rejected the idea of that woman completely, but she existed fully in her world, taking up space, expanding. And she probably liked that too.

“Whatcha doing in here?”

She blinked before tilting her head up, looking at her brother. He had a bowl of something in his hand, and he leaned against the doorframe. Rafael acted like he belonged here, and thanks to her, he did. The sick feeling in her stomach returned when she thought of the conversation with her father, when she’d requested for Rafael to stay with him. She saw the look in his eyes, the first one being absolute rejection. And then they softened to something else, and in that instant, they both knew, shared a connection that only a father and daughter could understand. Rafael knew about this sort of connection, exploited it. “He wants the best for you, blah blah,” the boy had said when making his request—or rather, demand—and it was a more effective blow than any physical hit. And what she was doing now, seeing Rafael around the mansion, it was a constant reminder of what she was doing to her father. Using him, just like she had done before.

Rafael entered and skimmed around to the side of the desk as she pulled out another piece of paper. He pulled at a piece of her hair, and she batted his hand away. “What do you want, Rafael?”

“I was just wondering about Papa.”

She bristled. He’d taken to calling him that when he realized that’s what Nell called the man constantly. “What about him?” she asked as she started writing another letter, one last try before she’d call her grandfather.

“Has he been to the doctor?”

She didn’t even glance at him. Don’t act like you care. “No. He’s a Fuentes.” That was usually her answer for everything regarding her family—that or it was a Spanish thing.

He snorted. “Oh? So he can’t go to a doctor?”

“No,” she said, too quickly. “You can leave, now, I’m sure Papa won’t appreciate you loitering around in his office.”

There was a strange smugness in the fact that she was the favorite. She had always been the favorite. But Rafael’s presence was a destructive force. Not like a tornado or anything quick moving—a poison. He was hemlock, lily of the valley, she didn’t dare touch him.

Instead of leaving, he started playing around with the skeleton hanging from his skull next to the desk. “I was wondering if you wanted to double date with Ang and I?”

The fingers on her pen turned white. “You’re hilarious,” she said flatly and she didn’t even have to look at him to know he was smiling smugly.

“Where is Papa, anyway?” He decided to change topics, and Nell shrugged. “Around, probably.” The amount of protectiveness she felt for the man who abandoned her twice, who betrayed her, who kept so many secrets from her—it was simply astounding. She hated it every time the two spoke together, because she knew how much it hurt León to have him around. And Nell could blame herself. In that unspoken way, her father had been almost kind to her, as kind as he could be. But that made her feel worse, because there was no escaping this fact.

“All right, you’re boring,” Rafael declared, dropping the hand of the skeleton. “Catch you around, ’mana.”

Her eyes snapped up at the nickname. Fuck you. Rafael must have enjoyed the fact he brought out the worse in Nell, he enjoyed it. She wanted to call Ang, as she’d been doing a lot lately. She was sure the girl noticed. Nell tried to spend as much time as possible with her, not wanting Rafael to get near her. It was the best she could do now. Not only had she let down her father, she had let down her friend as well, and she was a scummy human being. Thanks to Rafael.

But her brother wasn’t the only scourge in her life. As she picked up her bag and looked around the office, everything about it strangely reassuring like it was a safe room in her childhood, she dreaded going to work. She didn’t say as much, tried not to even think it, but she hated this job. At first, Nell had thought that maybe Jane would just be a side issue, that she wouldn’t have to worry about her. Of course, she’d been wrong. And it hadn’t only been Jane—it was the overall work. When she had been a bartender, she enjoyed working with people and learning new tricks, new drinks. She loved everything about working in the daycare, simply everything. But she’d given that up for a job with higher pay to satisfy Rafael, where she found the only thing she truly liked was the music. Is this what life was, she found herself wondering as she entered the building, looking for Jane. Working for the man to please somebody else, never being happy?

It was your choice, she reminded herself. This isn’t what she wanted to be, a house coordinator dressed in black slacks and white blouses. She wanted to be a lot of things. No, she wanted to do a lot of things. But being adult meant realizing that you couldn’t do what you wanted with what you needed. Jane was in one of the storage rooms, thankfully, and she could only guess. Pulling out a pair of latex gloves, Nell retrieved the little baggy that had been in her messenger bag. “What do you think you are doing, Jane Sinclair?” she asked, dangling the little bag of white powder from her fingers.

The woman rolled her eyes, turning away from a box propped up against the wall. Brightly lit, the room had an almost surreal quality to it. Nell thought she saw spots, her eyes looked even larger under the bright glare, the flourescent lamps hanging from rafters.

“Don’t wave it around like that,” Jane advised.

Nell held her hand up then, resting the bag in her palm. “What were you expecting? That I wouldn’t look in my bag and notice?”

“There was a police check last night.”

She sighed. Like Nell was a suspicious person, like the police would look in her bag. “Do you want your contraband, or would you prefer that I throw it in a river?”

The woman took the bag from her niece’s gloved fingers, pursing her red lips. “You would be so good in the business.”

Nell tilted her head, her lips twitching in restrained laughter. “Well thanks. Nice to know I have some career opportunities.”

“I’m serious.” And by her tone, it seemed that Jane was. Her blue eyes seared into Nell’s softer ones, a blade cutting through butter. They looked so similar now, their nice pants and shirt, hair pinned back. Successful women, proud women. I'm nothing like her. “Pays well. Of course it pays well.”

One moment. There was one moment of temptation where, in a split second, she almost took up Jane’s offer with an exasperated, “Fine!” And she imagined herself in the lifestyle, wearing powder blue jumpsuits, pinky rings, hiding crack in stereo speakers, driving hot cars to Tijuana. Pays well. Nell understood now how much money mattered. She should have been more aware of this as a child, but she’d been focused on other things. In her years outside of that private world, though, she understood what money and power meant. Why the Sinclairs and Fuenteses would never stop, why they had everything and her family never had anything. It was as easy as stepping forward and taking that bag back, saying that she’d give it to whoever Jane asked of her.

But then she knew how far this conversation would go, how bad it would get. She saw it in the calmness that was Jane, the control. Her eyes bright and lovely. Nothing good ever came of them being together.

“Why would I work under you?” Nell questioned, tone wary. “Why would you want me to work for you? So you could pull another stunt like this?”

Jane considered the bag for a moment as if the white powder held all the secrets of the universe. “You and I, we’re so much alike,” she murmured. Nell didn’t like this. She preferred the hate, and the anger, and the violence that Jane had always shown her before. It was better than the darker sides of her, the true manipulation, the cleverness. America thought it had brought her down, it had only given birth to something new. “We both want the same things. We both can get them. You just haven’t realized it yet.”

“I reiterate, why would you want me working for you?”

Jane tucked the bag down between her cleavage, and Nell would have laughed if she wasn’t feeling suffocated by the walls around her.

“Because if you don’t work for me…you’re my enemy. You don’t want to be my enemy, Nell.”

Not Nelly. Nell. The enemy. She knew what that meant. Jane wouldn’t play games now. And this only made the girl more suspicious. How many people were going to stake their claim in her before she could escape? “So you’re giving me an ultimatum?” she questioned, feeling her insides quake. “What would I do for you?”

“Whatever the family asks.” Jane’s voice was so smooth, silky. The family. Jane’s idea of a family, their idea of a family. A world full of secrets and lies and comraderie. It appealed and disgusted Nell at the same time.

Nell fisted her hands. “I won’t do anything to you,” she said steadily. “What kind of power do you think I have?” Apparently a lot more than she was willing to take hold of. The right thing would be to take action against Jane. But the right thing wasn’t always the best thing to do. Her common sense was better than that. She couldn’t stop this machine.

“Is it wrong that I don’t trust you?” Jane said, and Nell saw something in her eyes, something she’d seen before, and Nell was reminded of all the power she did have over the woman. One thing specifically, one thing that Jane would want to keep her around for. And that thing might make her threat hollow.

“But would you kill me?” Nell questioned. So many questions, no real answers. It was a challenge, they both knew that. It was the puppy barking at the pitbull.

Those eyes were a blizzard now, snow crashing down a hill. There was that hate. “I can and will do much worse.”

This wasn’t an ultimatum, it was a trap. Nell had stepped unwittingly into it. She looked at the bag in Jane’s hand. For the money. And was she willing to sacrifice her morals, her dignity, everything she’d built so far for self-preservation and fiscal enterprise?

“I’ll think about it,” Nell said. She wouldn’t. Jane couldn’t do this to her. But there was also the fear of knowing that Jane did have worse than murder on her side. Nell didn’t fear a great many things, but this woman in front of her, with her bag of drugs, she was terrifying. No, she wouldn’t submit to Jane. It would continue to be this powerplay, and she understood the dangers. But there was danger in everything, and no way out. Her cleverness only gave her small loopholes that provided escape for one momeny before she’s snared again.

“I’ll be waiting.”

music: eyes on fire by blue foundation
notes: <3
credit: post template made by mem of OTE

[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

[NELL DOE DALE]

maybe i'm a bad, bad, bad person

so i think it's best that we both forget

march 7th, 2012

“We're not going out to eat, are we?”

Her smile was small, devious. “Nope.”

León settled back in the seat, and his daughter stole a glance, wishing she could ignore how small he looked. No more waiting for his benefit. No more waiting for anything. Passivity worked in other areas of her life, it wouldn't here.

“I would have liked some food.”

“We'll stop for Micky D's.”

He grunted, and she didn't know what to make of it, so she simply continued driving, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel anxiously. Results would not come right away. She wasn't even sure if she would want them to be instant. What if it's bad news? What if it was that big 'c' word? If so, putting it off would not be for the best.

It had been coming in painful waves, memories of Till. In the strangest of moments, they would crawl into her chest and wring out her heart. No one had taught her about death, but she had learned one thing on her own—it did not go away. It did not disappear, even when you thought it did. The reminders came back to you in certain moments, leaving you breathless and terrified.

The hospital didn't bother her much as it would have were she a patient. She had already set up an appointment, done everything behind the man's back. She didn't feel regret. He'd done it before to her. She waited in the reception area, desperately searching for Highlights and only finding informative pamphlets. By the time her father returned, she was well-versed in the symptoms of MRSA. She looked at him curiously, and he only shrugged, walking away and expecting her to follow. Everything between them needed to be quiet, that's how they best communicated. And when they were speaking, discussing philosophy or politics or mold on cinnamon bread, they spoke strictly through sarcasm. Deeper feelings did not work. Sterilized their conversations, clean as the hospital they had just visited.

She voided herself of feelings on the matter of their shallow relationship lest they haunt her, but her father would not be kind to her today. He wanted vengeance, she bet. He never seemed to get as upset as she did with him. He never got upset.

“I know.”

Her foot tapped the accelerator, but she didn't look at him. “Hmm?”

“Rafael. Why he's living with me.”

A twitch in her jaw. “Do you really?”

She knew the answer. He didn't actually know, he had his suspicions that the request hadn't been her choice. Why he chose to voice this now, after assuming this for a while? To get under her skin. He was closing in on that, she knew it, she could sense it in the air around them like the stagnant atmosphere before a storm.

“You don't have to—“

“Let's not, Papa.” Nell turned on the blinker. “We've been going good for this long, don't make me hate you again.”

She hoped saying that got to him, reminded him that at one point, that's how it was. What made her so bitter in these moments? Everything unsaid between them, their history, his history, her history. Sometimes she wanted to hurt him with her words, like she wanted to hurt Jane, and she hated those kinds of feelings. They weren't like her. She loved people, she needed people. But she knew she deserved to be a lot more bitter and vitriolic than she had actually come to be. She had so many things to hate the world for, to hate people for. She should be jaded. Those feelings only emerged with her father. Would it ever change? Would they ever be able to talk?

“I think I have a right to know.”

He always knew where to hit, and she tried not to close her eyes, keeping them on the road. She exhaled through her nose. “You do,” she said. “I have a right to know things too, don't you think?” The trump card she pulled made her feel smug. Two can play like that. Always the worst with him. He was a part of the reason that when she did spare a thought about herself, she believed that she was a bad person.

“What if it's cancer?” He asked casually, like he would ask her if she could make coffee. The word was a hard lump in her throat, and every muscle tensed. She wanted him to stop, but he wouldn't. “What if I'm terminal? Would you tell me?”

Her laugh was sharp, unintentionally so. He could see the panic, couldn't he, no matter how calm she remained. “Why do you say things like that? All the time, you just...” She brushed an errant hair out of her eyes. “Leave it alone.”

“No, Nell.”

“And what about me, Papa?” He shouldn't be trying to upset her while she was driving. Those rare words that left her mouth, and one specific keyword: me. “Why do I have to tell you anything when you've never told me a godda—when you've never told me anything?” Quickly, she added on, “Let's talk about this later.”

Which meant never, or when he chose to have it his way. Her emotions were once again jumbled together and she couldn't figure anything out and she was never like this. Never. You do this to me.

“Mortality is frightening.”

Everything seemed to still. What was this? What side of her father was she seeing now? Her face was stony, immovable. She wanted to make a snide remark, but his words prevented any cutting jab about Till about the people he left and how she knew those words like an old friend. In that jarring moment, she understood how much her father did not say. How much he was dealing with. Mortality. And suddenly she would be losing someone else, another piece of her. He would just fall away into the sea, rock sliding into the ocean, and how much loss can one person survive?

“You're a Fuentes,” she told him with a hint of a smirk. “We don't fear.”

-

“Are you doing anything?”

Nell looked at Rafael when her father spoke, sitting at the kitchen table and flipping through the copy of At the Mountains of Madness that she'd gotten León. She should be afraid of him. Sometimes she was, the way he looked at her and she saw how much pain he wanted to cause her. That's all he did, he was a mindless wildfire, pure destruction. But so many other feelings clouded that.

She took a peach out of the bowl in the center of the table, looked down at her father. “Yeah, I'm going over a friend's.”

Something silent passed between them, in the look they exchanged, and she tried to be blasé about it all. Seeing him with his son reminded him that she was just a broken down man, like she was a dysfunctional person, and they were all kind of dysfunctional. They didn't come from the family they did and not come out put together.

-

“We need to talk.”

Angela winced in that ironic way she always did. “Damning words.”

Nell allowed a smile on her lips. She tried not to move her eyes to look for any signs of Rafael having been around. Her gaze remained fixated on her face. The house was empty, as it usually turned out to be. “They're in Romania,” Angela told her as she kicked a pile of clothes out of the way. She'd taken over in her grandparents absence. Nell sat down on the couch as if she belonged there with the decorative pillows and the afghan draped over the back. The television flickered with a show she didn't recognize.

“Why are you not in my kitchen?” Angela asked, and Nell peaked over the couch, a shy smile on her lips. That had to be a dead giveaway—Nell was not shy.

“I told you, I want to talk, not eat.”

The blond emerged from her kitchen, and handed her a bottle of Coke, knowing her friend far too well to think she didn't want anything. Angela sat on the chair opposite, her feet propped up on the ottoman. “So talk.”

Painfully clunky with introductions, Nell hesitated. How should she begin? What should she do or say or...just what? She realized how unprepared she'd been coming here. But her resolve stabilized when she remembered what had brought her here, how tired she was of letting this go on. She could fix things, and she was taking that power into her hands.

“I am so worried about you,” she said candidly, plainly. She never liked to sugarcoat. Angela didn't look confused at all. She understood, looked down as she exhaled. “For months now, I've been...just trying to figure out what to say and what to do.”

It's been the elephant in the room, every time they saw each other. The unspoken question, the person both on their minds.

“You don't have to worry.” Angela was just as honest as Nell, and sometimes that was the worst thing.

The brunette's response was an incredulous look, her head lolling to the side. “Angela, Rafael is my brother, I know him.” She cupped her hands together, the bottle between them. “You can't pretend that there is nothing wrong here.” Her eyes found the green ones opposite.

“Nell, don't do this please, I didn't want this crap from you. I thought that since you didn't bring it up...”

She hated this part, how it made her gut twist. But she wouldn't regret it. “That was the wrong thing to do. I didn't know how to bring it up, and...” Why couldn't she come out with it? Wouldn't it make it so much better for Angela to know that she could sympathize? She didn't know whether it was the strength or weakness that made her keep her mouth shut about exactly why she didn't bring it up. “Ignoring it is not helping.”

Having expected it, Nell was not surprised when Angela snapped at her. “Then what is, Nell?” There was no response, just the Earth graduate studying her unopened bottle. Angela took a moment to compose herself and then quietly, “I love him.”

Those words tore into her, she hated them because of how much she understood Angela and why she would not leave Rafael. It was why she had not left Mia, not until one night she knew she would die if she did not do something. She didn't want it to come to that with Angela, but she had predicted how this conversation would go. “I know,” she murmured, heaving a sigh. “But he's fucked up, Angela, you get that, right?”

She snorted, and Nell noticed her fidgeting. “Just like the rest of us.”

Nell didn't want to think she was fucked up. She's had her taste of it, and she was done with that. And she could have been broken, but she refused to be that way, too. However, she supposed Angela was right. Everyone had their cracks, no matter how well put together they seemed. She liked it that way. She didn't need the world to be perfect to love it. What she did not love was Rafael, the knowledge that he did not love the girl like she did him. Nell couldn't say that, though, it would break her heart.

“That doesn't make it okay, you can't justify what he does.” Nothing about Rafael could be justified. Nell ran her finger along the bottle cap. “You and I both know it has to stop.”

Angela was so incredibly still, frozen in time. Nell could see what she was trying to do, trying to lock herself in one place so she didn't have to make the decision. She didn't want to do anything about it, and even though Nell couldn't tell from the expression on the other girl's face, she could tell from experience. She wanted to stay in the limbo of her indecision.

“Fuck, I'm so scared.” Angela's words bordered on hysterical.

Nell placed the bottle down and sat on the ottoman, putting the girl's feet in her lap and massaging them with a soft smile. This was how she would be strong. She was figuring out what it really meant. She thought just being there would be enough, but she knew this was it. This moment right here. “You should be,” Nell said. “But it'll be better. I promise, it'll be better.”

Promises broke so easily, but she knew this one for a fact. No matter what, it would be better.

“You don't know that.”

She knew more than most, but that would be left unspoken. Things could go wrong. She already knew how they could, but she would take it one step at a time. The first step was getting Angela safe. “Has he...”

Angela knew the question before she finished it, and bristled. “He...” Then she blinked, her eyes more vulnerable than Nell ever saw. “I don't want to talk about it.”

“You don't have to.”

music: love love love by of monsters and men
notes: <3
credit: post template made by mem of OTE

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