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The words were blurred, but reaching him, nevertheless, accompanied with a sharp, high-pitched note burning inside his mind.
“Your performance is ridiculous. You should apply yourself.”
Jesse knew he was standing inside his musty chemistry classroom. He was aware of the acrid smell protruding from the chemicals stacked on the shelves. He was aware of the dark light eclipsing the greyish room. He was aware of the tiny scribbles on his desk, looking at him from below as he follows their lines with his eyes. He knew where he was, he knew what was happening to him, and yet, he wasn’t.
He was watching himself sitting on the chair, face down, looking at the thick, red mark on his paper – another F. His parents would freak the fuck out again.
“I don’t know how you plan to graduate, let alone find a job! I’m sure this isn’t the only class where your performance is so poor,” Mr. White rested his hand on his desk, and this was when he finally looked up, when his puppy eyes met his dark ones, the disappointment and anger reflecting in the black pupil, reminding Jesse of the devil.
He wasn’t that bad, Mr. White. He was a pretty normal guy, a stick up his ass, and fucking annoying – but he wasn’t really intimidating. It was more the fact that, yet another person was looking down at Jesse, was telling him what a loser he was – he didn’t really need to hear that. He knew that already.
Mr. White shook his head, releasing a heavy breath. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you end up meeting the wrong people. Don’t you care about your future? At least a little bit?”
The blood was pumping through his head, gathering in his ears, so much, that the words of his teacher rustled around the room as if they were emanating from a radio – far away, cloudy, opaque.
“Of course, I do,” Jesse mumbled, his gaze wandering back to his paper, lingering over one of the questions.
List the names and formulas for the three exceptions to the binary naming rules.
He remembered the sudden pressure that had overcome him the minute, the test was placed on his desk, laying in front of him – he had always had trouble studying, let alone remembering terms and formulas. With a sigh, he had scribbled down his answer, knowing he would never pass:
1. I
2. Don't
3. Care.
Looking at his answer now, he would have laughed, if he wouldn’t have been interrogated by his teacher – maybe he could laugh about it in a few years, if he would ever find this test again.
“How do you want to graduate then? Are you going to see a tutor?”
Jesse simply shook his head, mentally rolling his eyes – please let me the fuck go, Ion wanna be here, don’t you fucking see it?
Every time, he tried to open up about his troubles with focusing, he was shut down again. They didn’t understand that it was hard to even look at the words, the way they moved around the paper after some time of starring at them. He couldn’t catch them, so how was he supposed to keep them, to memorize them? This was fucking bullshit, there was no way other people could study so easily. And the only thing that helped him calm down, kept him focused, was the reason why everyone was thinking he was just a pathetic junky, a loser, someone with no future.
And maybe they were right.
Keeping his head down, the test stuffed into his bag, he trudged home, smoking a joint to prepare him for the shitshow that would expect him there – not even his baggy sweatshirt could hide the fact now that he was sick to his stomach, that he would want to crawl into a hole and never get out of it again, never wanted to face reality again.
How was he supposed to have a future?
---
“I’m so sorry for your loss, we’re sending our thoughts and prayers.”
“So sorry for your loss.”
“Oh, dear Diane. I can’t imagine what you are going through and the poor kids,” a sideways glance at his little brother, a quick nod at Jesse. “I’m praying for all of you.”
Jesse suppressed his urge to snort, to snap at all of them. What pathetic hypocrites they all were – none of them had known his aunt Ginny, not like he had. They hadn’t been close with her, not like he had been.
Everything around him triggered him, jamming his anger deeper into his chest – all the curious people, only turning up to get a look at the coffin, his family pretending they had accompanied his aunt during her illness, his little brother crying, although he barely spoke a word with her.
Jesse had made her lunch every single day, had watched all of her favorite movies with her, went to walks, accompanied her to chemo, shaved her hair off, read her favorite books to her when she was too weak keeping her eyes open, had showered her, had helped her stand up when she fell down again, cleaned up her vomit – he had been there, during the beautiful moments, during the sad moments, during the best and the worst. He had seen it all, he had looked deep into the heart of a deadly disease, had seen the rest of her life being taken from her, ripped out of her – beginning with the usual sparkle lightning in her eyes, her beautiful smile, her love of life.
He had seen all that and they were the ones who were crying?
He couldn’t bring himself to shed a tear, not when all of these people were flouncing around him, pretending to be sad, pretending to care.
He didn’t know how he ended up enduring all of that, the whole afternoon, the whole ceremony, the dinner with his family afterwards, where they were talking and laughing, smiling and eating like nothing happened – praising his little brother Jake on his latest victory at the New York spelling bee, discussing the renovation of their bathroom, deciding what to eat for Thanksgiving.
It was incomprehensible for Jesse that their stomach wasn’t stopping them from eating, that their thoughts weren’t dizzying them so much, that they thought they could never see clearly again, that they weren’t feeling so numb, they could have run in front of a bus and not feel a thing – how were their eyes not burning from exhaustion? How was their body not trembling from the cold?
It remained a mystery to Jesse how they could just move on with their lives, stepped back into their routine, when all he did was go straight to his aunt’s home after school, smoking a joint and stretching himself out on her couch, hoping he could talk to her one last time.
Fucking cancer. Why was his aunt taken away from him? She had cared about him, had listened to him, had been pleased every time, he visited her – she had enjoyed his company. How could such a lovely, such a good person as her, who loved living more than he would ever do, be punished so badly?
Though he didn’t believe in the existence of a god, his aunt’s death reassured him that there wasn’t one existing in the sky above them – deciding about good and evil, separating into heaven and hell. All of that was bullshit, just as it was bullshit that his aunt was stripped of her life, when she had so many things to look forward to, when she had so many things already planned out.
As he was lying on the couch, the bag of crystal, his friend Badger had given him this morning to try out something new, balancing between his fingers, the darkness hovering behind him, he couldn’t quite shake away the thought that he should have died instead – after all, no one was really seeing him managing his life. And to be honest, he wasn’t either.
---
Jesse knew that driving the RV through his neighborhood was a bad idea, he knew it would have consequences. But after spending the entire night sleeping in this vehicle, after breaking into the junkyard and falling through a dixie toilet, being completely wet, blue, and stinky, he just didn’t know what else to do.
As so often in his life, he suffered from the lack of guidance, of help – he was homeless again, his parents had once again left him on his own, hadn’t believed him. Oh, when would they ever do? When would they ever show him that kind of support, they showed Jake?
He knew he would ignite a fire by showing up to his house, he knew it – but where else should he go? As pathetic as it sounded, he only had his former high school teacher left, his now partner in crime. Besides that, he had no one.
Mr. White didn’t have to say a thing, as he slapped opened the door of the RV, greeting Jesse with his angry, monstrous face – something that always managed to freeze the blood in his veins. “Yo, I’m really sorry, okay?”
“What is wrong with you?” Walter’s voice was quiet but trembling – the flaring volcano before the eruption. “Why are you blue? Oh, Jesus.”
“I’m sorry…,” Jesse stuttered, “let’s just say it starts with my parents being greedy kleptomaniac douche bags.”
“Are you actually this stupid?” His hands did this thing again, where he held them in the air, scrunching them up and brandishing them in front of Jesse’s face.
“No, look. I know this isn’t a optimal-“
“To come to my house and park on my street, driving this vehicle.” He was screaming now, making Jesse shiver once again. “I mean, what the hell is wrong with you? I’m really asking.”
And even despite Jesse’s hunch of his reaction, his stomach turned again, the words rushing through his mind, but his voice unable to articulate them anymore. He hated when this happened, when he lost control, when Mr. White managed to fear the shit out of him, make him feel the absolute worst. “Nothing. I’m sorry. I just…”
“What if Skyler had seen you? What then? What was the plan then, genius, huh?” He came closer, almost whispering angrily.
“I don’t know…”
“You don’t know. You know why you don’t know? Because you don’t think. That’s why,” he spatted, making Jesse flinch at the sudden closeness. “You don’t think. You never figured out how to think. Did you, Pinkman?”
And this was not only not true, but this was also too much – of course, he thought about his actions, he hadn’t done anything else for the last twenty minutes. “Hey,” now Jesse was screaming too. “I said I was sorry. I just need my half of the money, and I will go…”
Disbelief spread across Walter’s face, as he widened his eyes. “Your half? There is no your half of the money. There is only my all of it. Do you understand?” What the actual fuck was he talking about? Why was he treating Jesse like a dumb three-year-old, and why was he claiming the money he had worked for so hard? “Why… Why should I be penalized because of your sloppiness?” He punched him in the chest, making him stumble backwards.
“Look, that is completely uncool, aight? We agreed, fifty-fifty partners.”
“Partners in what? What exactly do you do here? I’ve been meaning to ask, because I’m the producer, right? I cook. But from what I can tell, you are just a drug addict,” Jesse gazed down at the ground, avoiding the cold stare of his blank eyes, “You are a pathetic junkie, too stupid to understand and follow simple rudimentary instructions. Too stupid…”
And this was more than enough – his sharp voice screaming at him, his dark eyes burning into his skin, his words branding Jesse to the only stigmatization, he seemed to be worth of. Something inside Jesse snapped, a switch flipped. He grabbed Mr. White’s head, smashing it against one of the boxes. It didn’t last long for him to fight back, pushing him towards the other end of the RV – until they were lying on the ground, Jesse hovering over Walter, his hands pressed around his neck.
Even though, Jesse hadn't done anything to him that day, he had let go of his neck before anything could happen, he had withdrawn his hand before it could even make contact with his face - he couldn't stop the thoughts, he couldn't hide the fact that he had been taken down yet again. And on days like this when he was already struggling with his heartless family and wandering through the world, doomed and lost, he wished for nothing more than all of this to finally stop.
---
Jesse had always thought that maybe he was the reason why everything good disappeared from his life – vanished, faded, died.
He wasn’t a good student; he wasn’t a good son – he had no perspective for a successful future. He was a drug addict, a criminal, and dumbass. At least that was what he took from everyone, how everyone was labeling him.
All his time, he had thought that maybe he had just met the wrong people, that he had just grown up in the wrong family, that he maybe could still find his place in life – and for a short while, he really thought he did.
He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so happy than he did with her – waking up next to her every single morning, tasting her soft lips on his, stroking her black hair out of her face, going into a museum, talking about vaginas, about doors, about doing something only one time, about the meaning of life – fuck, he had already pictured their lives in Australia, in New Zealand, wherever. She as a beautiful artist, painting the local castles and shit – he as a bush pilot.
They had this shit all figured out and yet, life seemed to find his way to intervene with his plans, with his luck, with his happiness.
He wasn't sure if it was during his time in rehab, or when he moved back into his aunt's house, surrounded by her calming presence, chasing Jane's by calling her phone number over and over – that the words from his counselor found their meaning, stuck themselves in his head.
He was the bad guy. He was not only the junkie, the loser, everyone had called him – no. He was also the monster, the reason why everyone around him vanished.
He had killer her. He had brought her back to drugs – he had done this to her. And maybe, he had been the reason why his aunt couldn’t get better. Maybe, he was the reason why he lost everything in life that was ever really good for him – it was his karma, the consequences of cooking meth and selling it to people, of poisoning and killing them.
It was all he ever deserved.
Being finally aware about these things, coming to terms with the horrible truth of yourself, accepting yourself for who you really were, was something, that robbed Jesse of sleep.
How could he ever look into a mirror without seeing all these things? How could he ever unsee the monster he had become?
---
He high fived the last partygoer before Badger crouched behind him, lips tight, avoiding his gaze. Skinny Pete rushed to his side, suddenly focused on something on the ground in front of him.
“Seriously? Where you two going?” He leaned against his opened door, his back gently brushing the wooden texture.
“Jesse,” Badger shook his head.” I’ve been awake for, like, three straight days. I’m turning into a Sleestak.”
Skinny Pete threw on his backpack, pulling his black beanie down a little.
“So crash here,” Jesse said. “It’s not like I ain’t got the space.” No, he had plenty of space to fill, that was the problem – too much room, too many thoughts.
Badger sighed. “Yeah, that’s cool and all, but I think I got, like, this cat. Think I’m, like, supposed to feed it.”
Jesse wasn’t stupid, he knew Badger was just making fucking excuses to get rid of him.
“Whatever you little bitch,” he looked to Pete, who was fiddling with his jacket. “What about you? You sticking or do I gotta flip you over and check you for a slizz?”
“Bro, I’m kind of pushing flowers here, yo,” he shook his head, his eyes red and glassy, “I ain’t proud of it but it’s God’s honest truth. Hell brother, you know we got mad love for you. Now that you’re back in the mix, it’s, like, nothing but good days ahead.”
And that was the fucking stupidest thing Jesse had ever heard – nothing but good days ahead? It seemed to him as if he was closer to something similar as hell, as he ever was.
“Plenty of time to pace it out, is all I’m saying.”
“Yeah, man.”
And Jesse couldn’t say something to that, he was tongue-tied once again, only able to shake his head, pretending he would understand, pretending they would understand.
“I was thinking like next week?” Badger asked, walking out of the door.
“Yeah, sure, man. Next week,” Jesse mumbled, watching them walk on the doorstep, ready to leave him all on his own.
Pete turned, looking at him. “We cool?”
“We are cool.”
Another fist bump and they were gone. And Jesse alone in his living room, surrounded by dirt, leftover food, empty bottles, cigarette butts, wet blankets, and especially, his own misery.
With soft steps, he walked up to his sound system, the different colors of blue, red, and green reflecting on his face. He turned up the volume, a gush of pain swapping over him.
Louder, and the bass was already pounding through his body, but the thoughts were louder, the memories bigger—Gale, headshot, death, killer.
The music filled the room as he slowly settled in front of the speaker - the only spot where the music was loudest, yet not loud enough.
Gale, headshot, death, killer.
Gale, headshot, death, killer.
Gale, headshot, death, killer.
He rubbed his hands together, pressing them against his head, his ears.
Gale, headshot, death, killer.
Gale, headshot, death, killer.
Gale, headshot, death, killer.
The bass pulsed into his back, his neck, his mind, as he continued to rub his hands, staring into emptiness.
Gale.
Headshot.
Death.
Killer.
Gale.
Headshot.
Death.
Killer.
He couldn’t escape himself – it was the one prison he would never bust out of.
---
She didn’t want him to be there. It was as clear as the sky on a bright summer day, and he couldn’t blame her, of course not.
Who would have liked to have a criminal sleeping in their guestroom, someone who once tried to sue your husband, someone who cooked meth with the husband of their sister?
So, when she asked him if he wanted some coffee, he just had to accept it, had to absorb her kindness. It was probably the last time he would get any.
Everything was already set up in the living room, ready to film his confession, ready to burn Walter to the ground and yet again, Jesse was overwhelmed by everything. When Marie gave him the cup of coffee, he couldn’t look into her eyes. When she watched him studying their books on the shelves, he couldn’t dare to look back at her – he didn’t shift his attention back to the camera, back to Hank, not before she had already left the room.
“Okay, tell us everything. Start at the beginning. When did you first met Mr. White?”
Sucking in a deep breath, Jesse spoke: “I first met Mr. White, Walter White, in junior year chemistry. He was my teacher.”
And he told them, he told them everything – how Walter blackmailed him into cooking meth with him, how he manipulated him through all the years, how he ruined his fucking life, up until this point.
He had no idea if things would change, if he would make a difference with his statement, with his story – but it didn’t really matter. Things weren’t looking very bright at the moment – he was either going to prison, or he would have to disappear. What else could he do?
When he was lying in the bed of their guestroom, he was trying not to think about their stupid plan to confront Walt, to talk to him. They couldn’t understand him, not in a way, Jesse could.
Mr. White was the devil. He was smarter than everyone else, he was luckier than everyone else. He somehow always managed to get out of his shit, to have things turn out the way he wanted to – there was no way, Mr. White would fall for their trap.
“What if the kid is right?” Jesse had overheard Gomez asking Hank, and he had wished he hadn’t, had hoped he would never hear these words again.
“The kid? Oh, you mean the junkie murderer that’s dribbling all over my guest bathroom floor?”
After all these years, nothing had really changed, not for the better. He was not only the stupid junkie now, but he was also a murderer.
The knock on the door had caught him with surprise. Straightening up in the bed, he watched the door open, Marie walking into the room.
“Are you hungry? I can heat up some lasagna.”
Jesse shook his head. “No, thank you.”
She considered him for a while before daring to go further into the room and sat next to him on the bed. “I’m so sorry for everything that monster put you through.”
A lump formed in the back of his throat. She had seen the video; she had heard everything. Every single thing.
She hesitated, their eyes meeting for a quick moment, and then he felt her arms around his neck, as she pulled him into a deep hug.
He didn’t know the last time, somebody had hugged him and had meant it – other than Walter’s manipulative hugs, just another form of taking control over him.
This was genuine, this was honest – and he was so taken aback, that he couldn’t move his arms, and couldn’t rest his head on her shoulder – he just let her hold him for a moment, closing his eyes and thinking about the many times his aunt had hugged him like that, about the last time Jane had embraced him with her welcoming comfort.
For a moment, Jesse took in all the warmth, all the closeness and familiarity of something, he had missed for so long – until that moment passed like every other, leaving him all on his own once again.