Chapter Text
It was a beautiful night with a full moon shining down on the streets of Zaun, illuminating the city with a soft haziness that made it look like it was a dreamy escape, like something straight out of a fairytale. False advertisement given how chaotic and rundown the place is, but you know. It was really pretty in its own way, the kind of atmosphere you’d wanna wander around in and lose yourself in its unique beauty.
But here Jinx was, drinking alone in the dark in her apartment again for the sixth time this week. It’s the same thing everyday, a miserable and destructive time loop of her own making. She’s trapped herself inside this unhealthy cycle and though she wants to break out of it, she can’t. She doesn’t have the energy for it.
That’s not to say she hasn’t tried. She has tried-- a lot, actually-- but always ends up giving up on things halfway through starting them. There was no desire or drive. Her heart was never in it, and it was draining to try to force it.
She doesn’t have the energy for much at all anymore, hasn’t for a while now.
She doesn’t have any friends, she doesn’t have a job, she doesn’t leave the house, she doesn’t really do anything. She doesn’t even talk to anyone aside from her father, and even that is barely ever these days. Just irregularly scheduled check-ins, a sign of life whenever she remembers to provide it.
Yet guilt fills her lungs and drowns the words in her throat every time she hears his voice over the phone. The hints of sadness hidden behind his calm tone, little details and traces only she could notice, stabbing her directly in the chest. It just makes her want to run further and faster away, to reach out less and less until she’s eventually forgotten.
He doesn’t deserve to be pushed away, but she can’t help it. It’s too hard. The stress of interaction has become so overwhelming she can’t even think clearly, and then everything comes out wrong. She doesn’t want to keep hurting him like this, but he’d be better off without such a troublesome daughter in his life.
And Violet... Well, Jinx doesn’t even remember the last time she tried to talk to her sister. She hasn’t kept in touch with Ekko either, despite how close they used to be. She’s been drifting off from everyone for a while, gradually fading away like a ghost.
Haunting this tiny apartment, and occasionally the halls when the alcohol and junk food she orders gets delivered outside her door. Oftentimes, she finds groceries left out there for her too, along with some other necessities, but she never bought any of them. She just assumes it’s Silco having stuff sent to her, knowing she isn’t going to buy anything she actually needs for herself. She appreciates it, though she can never find the will to express that to him. He doesn’t seem to mind. Still makes her feel like shit for not saying anything though.
It’s been this way for so long now. She doesn’t know what happened that caused the switch in her brain to flip and make her become such a depressed shut-in like this, to make her want to force the rest of the world out so badly, but she thinks it was probably an inevitable outcome for her. That outgoing attitude she used to radiate was always just an act, like a “fake it till you make it” kind of deal, but she never actually made it.
Eventually, she got tired of pretending to want to be anywhere, and people got tired of pretending they wanted her around anyways. Isn’t that what she wanted? So why did it make her heart ache so deeply?
Whatever.
Jinx shrugged her shoulders at nothing in particular as she then grabbed the remote and turned Piltover's Next Top Model on the TV. She hates this show, but it’s so addicting to watch. She’s already binged every season several times over, it was a mystery how it still kept her entertained.
Sometimes, when she’s really bored out of her mind, she puts together cute outfits and poses in front of the mirror in her bedroom like she’s one of the contestants. It’s fun, but she still hates the show. It was just something to do, something to watch, a way to pass the seemingly endless time on her hands. Not like she had many other hobbies to indulge in.
A sigh slipped from chapped, plum-colored lips.
Maybe she did miss going out and having things to do a little bit. Maybe she was a little lonely. But maybe she also just wanted everything to end already, rather than for it all to remain frozen in time like she felt she currently was. Can’t break out of it, but maybe she could stop it altogether. Maybe she still had just enough energy left for that much.
Maybe, maybe.
But no, not tonight. Tonight, she was going to enjoy this intoxicated feeling and the lingering burn it left stirring the flames inside her, and she was going to crash on the couch watching this shitty TV show. Tonight, this was good enough. Tonight, she was okay.
The next day, she certainly wasn’t okay.
Jinx was having one of those moments where reality strikes and it actually hits her just how bad things have gotten. A brief instance of clarity, quickly followed up by this nauseating feeling devouring her whole. Disgust, disbelief, self-hatred, shame, shame, shame.
She doesn’t want to be alone, doesn’t want to be a ghost, doesn’t want to dissolve into nothingness, doesn’t wanna spend another day caged in this prison of an apartment or this prison of a body or a mind. She just wants to be fine and okay and free and happy. Why was that so hard? Why did that feel so unachievable?
Her home was a mess. There were empty or half empty bottles of rum, liquor, vodka-- just a shit ton of alcohol littered among the rooms, as well as piles of filled up trash bags in the corner of her kitchen that should have been taken out to the dumpster weeks ago. Dirty clothes were scattered on the floor of her bedroom and bathroom, and the toilet was leaking water again which presented a mildew-y smell to the space.
Sure, Jinx has never really been the best at cleaning up after herself, but it’s never been this bad before. She felt really embarrassed and ashamed and stupid to have let it get so horrible. She wanted to cry and call Silco to help, but she wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
God, she felt sick. Not even in a hangover kind of way either. She wanted to puke her guts out and keep going, hoping to spew her skeleton out too. Really, she’d rather just die than deal with all of this. Maybe that’s dramatic, but it was honest.
Unsteady legs dragged her to the kitchen, deciding to start with the bags here since they were already tied and everything, all she really had to do was just carry them outside to the bin. But when she lifted the one on top, she noticed something slithering among the shiny black plastic. Maggots. There were maggots all over the trash, creeping along the surrounding area and onto the ground.
Jinx instinctively dropped the bag with a shriek, jumping back slightly as she stared in horror at the consequence of her negligence. Then the stinging feeling of tears in her eyes came, and all she could do was back up to the opposite wall and sink down to the floor, holding her head in her hands as she sobbed.
It’s so gross, it’s so nasty, she is so gross. What the fuck is wrong with her? What is so severely messed up in her brain that made her this way? Nobody else is like this. Nobody else has this problem.
Bleary blues squeezed shut, thin fingers sliding into her hair and digging into her scalp. Her face scrunched up in a mixture of misery and anger towards herself, and she wanted nothing more in that moment than to disappear.
What if Silco saw the state of her home? The state of her mind? He’d be so disappointed. He wouldn’t say it, but he’d be very upset with her. All the time and money and resources he wasted to get her here, to keep her comfortable and safe and carefree, and what was she doing with all his efforts? Not taking her meds so she could stay drunk twenty-four seven, not even attending her virtual therapy appointments anymore, not cleaning up after herself despite how easy it is to simply throw shit away when you’re done with it, not washing her clothes because she “doesn’t go anywhere anyway,” not taking showers because she’s too depressed to even get out of bed or off the couch most days, and--
“It’s not a big deal,” she muttered under her breath, “Just clean it up. Why are you freaking out so bad because there’s some bugs? Just get rid of them before it gets worse. Quit sitting around feeling bad for yourself. Crying won’t change your situation. Getting up and actually doing something will.”
The spiraling thoughts were cut short by a swift, self-inflicted bang to the skull by the heel of her hand. It made her dizzy for a second, but she was able to reorient herself and stand up again. An apathetic expression took over her features, and she lazily wiped away the trail of tears from her cheeks. She needed to take the trash out.
She doesn’t know exactly how much time passed, but it was dark now. The apartment was cleaned thoroughly and everything was placed back where it belonged, but Jinx still found herself lying on the couch with a bottle of Fireball in hand, feeling entirely unfulfilled and void of any emotion.
Seems like tears would be blurring the girl’s vision for a second time today.
Her phone was placed on the coffee table in front of her, ringing over and over and over. She could silence it or straight decline it, but the call kept coming again and again. It was Silco. Guess he wasn’t going to stop till Jinx answered.
But she really didn’t want to talk, so she just let it keep ringing. She’d apologize for it later. She was too exhausted right now. If it was something really important, he would have texted her between missed calls, but he didn’t. So, it’s fine. The guilt of ignoring him can eat her alive tomorrow after she’s gotten some rest.
It’s fine.
Tomorrow she’ll have the energy.
Tomorrow, she’ll try.
Tomorrow is a new day, a reset, a fresh start. Everything will be okay, and even if it isn’t, there’s always the next day. It’s fine. A little optimism can go a long way.
She’ll pick up the phone tomorrow.
She’ll say sorry tomorrow.
Things will be better tomorrow.