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“I want to ask something,” she says. “May I?”
And she sighs, angry at herself; such a good start, immediately followed by being pathetic. A damn choir of voices starts hissing at her like a hole in pressure pipes — as always, just give them a reason.
Still so childish. Will you always ask for permission?
As if you’d listen even if you got “no” for an answer.
“You've already asked,” Silco waves his fingers in a calm gesture, not distracted from reading some papers. His calmness, too similar to indifference, is irritating. As if the only ones caring about her are Mylo and Claggor, whose shadows loom on the sidelines of her consciousness.
“Yes,” she grits her teeth, replying to all at once. “I just wanted to know something.”
She dismisses the chuckles sneering at her from all around and, at the same time, from nowhere. Silco finally lifts his gaze up on her. It's hard not to stare at his artificial eye that now looks especially cold and judging.
No wonder.
“What is it?”
She is almost on her toes as she steps closer.
“There are all sorts of rumours going around…” she starts from afar. She is not afraid of Silco.
She is afraid not of him, but rather of what he might say. That she's a…
Weakling.
“That’s still not a question, Jinx,” Silco sighs and leans back into the chair. Finally, she's got all his attention. Even Mylo and Claggor fade away, awed. “We agreed that we can trust each other. What's the matter?”
She steps from one foot to another, feeling so small. So very small, because so stupidly weak. She doesn’t need any other voices to tell her that, her own is enough.
But she's already here. She's been here before and never dared. She knows what will happen if she dares not ask.
Sooner or later she'll end up here, again.
“So… is there… any news… about Vi?”
Silco’s expression doesn’t change, not at all, does it, actually? But it seems like his frown is deeper than usual. Seems like he’s displeased with her. Seems like the weave of his scars twists his lips into an angry line.
Does it only seem so?
“Why do you ask?” he asks in a flat tone, dragging on a cigar, and she is certain that the restraint in his voice is pretty real.
Weakling. She’s a weakling.
You’re not ready, another voice chips in. She freezes so as not to scare it off and clenches her fists, hoping it disappears before she loses her composure.
She still doesn’t understand what she feels because of this voice.
“She’s my sister,” her own voice trembles, and she tries to hide it with an awkward, nervous, funny chuckle. “I’m curious, after all, ha!”
She’s grimacing, hysterically putting on some bravado. She can do that. She can.
She should not be weak.
“You said it yourself, you don’t have a sister anymore,” Silco replies immediately. Damn. There’s a bad feeling, bad, terrible, awful, she wants to rip it from her chest, crumple and squelch it.
Slowly, Jinx twists her lips in a smile.
“So what happened to her?” she demands and almost doesn’t breathe, and stares into his face. She won’t back away. But his face is a mask with a mouth, nose, scars and eyes drawn over it. A stupid mask, impossible to see through.
“Your sister is gone, Jinx,” Slico says after a pause.
And here goes another inappropriate chuckle, again.
“Stop repeating yourself,” she hums, scratching her nails with her nails. “I know, I know! I’m just curious what…”
“She’s gone, Jinx,” he says again, and she's full of irritation.
“Gone from the city?” she suggests, impatient. “Gone off the radar?”
His gaze sends prickly needles throughout her skin, and she suddenly wants to scream — either at Silko, or out of fear, or both — and run away, hide, cower in a corner.
Such a fool. Didn’t understand a bit.
So many silly questions — you’re unbearable.
Silco puts his cigar aside and runs his hand over the unharmed half of his face.
“No. She’s done, Jinx. She left you and then got into a fight.”
Silco speaks in a nasty patronizing tone, word after word, as if he needs to explain this to a five-year-old (I’m not a child!). And the words are nasty too, and his voice sounds distorted, as if played from a corrupted tape. She is so irritated with how it sounds that she doesn’t really catch up with the meaning.
Can he just not mess with her head anymore?
Silco stares at her, paused. As if there’s apprehension in his eyes, wow!
“She’s gone,” he tells her, “because she’s dead.”
Everything clicks painfully as it settles into place, clicks like the last tick in a hand-wound mechanism. Inside, she feels as if she’s falling; falling from the height of a pillar that just crumbled. Same as before, when she didn’t have anything to hold on to as her monkey bomb worked for the first time and threw her off with the blastwave.
She is breathing hard and can't breathe at the same time. Her throat hurts, as if she’s swallowed a whole handful of nails instead of stuffing them into a grenade, how silly could she actually be?
Ninny. Crybaby. The usual.
“Shut. Up!” Jinx howls.
Her eyes are so wet she can only see blurred silhouettes. She wrings her hands and backs off, wiping tears with her fists, all for nothing.
She stumbles upon Silco; she never saw him appear nearby. His hands are firm and soothing, but she tries to break free while there’s still some strength left in her.
“You didn’t have a sister either way,” he reminds her, this time his voice is soft, reassuring. She buries her forehead in his vest, ashamed of the tears getting the better of her. “She left you. She betrayed you. But you are not alone. It’s gonna be alright.”
His warm fingers are brushing her hair. If she were to focus on that, on that only, she could even fool herself. She could even almost hear…
And we stick together.
She hears Vi’s voice so rarely now. She tries not to breathe to let the illusion linger, while pathetic tears roll down her cheeks.
“I know,” Jinx says, muffled. “You will never leave me.”