girl next door.

                      “     are     we     talking    about     the     boogieman     of     the     week,     or     are     we     talking     about     roman?     ”

                     sardonic     is     her     voice,     a     raise     of     her     brow     accompanies     her     words,     yet     a     tilt     of     the     head     towards     Peter     acknowledges     his     statement     to     be     reasonable     (     for     both     alternatives     ).     she     thinks     it     weird,     that     a     blooming     friendship     between     the     two     boys     is    even     possible     –     indeed,     Peter     Rumancek    seems     far     too     deep     into     his     common     sense     to     be     anywhere     charmed     by     Roman     Godfrey     –     yet     here     they     are,     the     two   of     them     wait     inside     Roman’s     car     while     the     Godfrey     heir     creeps     into     the     tower     that     carries     his     family     name     (     she’s     heard     stories     about     Godfrey’s     laboratories,     urban     legends     of     what     might     go     on     in     there.     Infamous     as     Roman     is,     he     pales     in   comparison     to     this     building     ).

                 and     despite     the     fact     that     Jenny     feels     like     there     are     a   million     things     these     two     aren’t     sharing     with     her     regarding     the     situation,     she     still    feels     the     need     to     help     –     old     habits     die     hard.     The     thought     of     her     siblings     or     her     mother     being     mauled     the     way     she     was     merely     six     months     ago     makes    her     stomach     twist     with     nausea.

                      “     you’re     literally    being     a     child.     and     scaring     away     costumers     with     that     weird     eye     thing     you     do.     ”

                   she     turns     on     white    sneakers     to     face     him,     arms     fold     over     her     chest,     and     she     tries     to     match     his     feral     glare     with     one     of     her     own     (     it’s     difficult,     there’s     something     decidedly     off     about     him,     and     now     that     she     knows     it’s     not     just     a     matter     of     ‘roman    godfrey     is     a     creep,’     it     makes   her     feel     even     more     uneasy     around     him     ).    whatever     he     might     be,     human     or     not,     Jenny     refuses     to     treat     him     any     differently   than     she     did     before     –     perhaps     it     makes     her     feel     more     in     control.

                   A     moment     of     silence     envelopes     them     both,     he’ll     glare,     she’ll     glare     back,     and     time     will     seem     frozen     in     place     (     she     feels     it,     an     odd     chill     creeping     into     her     skin;     she’ll   ignore     it     ).     and     after     what     feels     like     an     eternity,     she     exhales     heavily,     uncrosses     her     arms     and     turns     away     from     his     penetrating     gaze     (     he’s     always     reminded     her     of     an     alley     cat     with     eyes   that     can     look     right     through     you     in     the    middle     of     the     darkness     ).

“all     i     did     was     try     to     keep     you     from     not     going     down     too.     i     never     meant     for     any     of     this     to     happen.”

          canon        dialogue        ft.        [     @frdrcks​     ]

                                  “     don’t    talk     like     you     were     trying     to     …     protect     me     or     something.     ”     voice   is     detached     (     it’s     not     cold,     it’s    not     angry,     it’s     just     numb     ),     it    doesn’t     sound     like     it’s     hers     at     all    –     she     can     even     tell.     Jenny     can     feel     her     own     tone     shifting,     becoming     tainted   by     everything     she’s     lived     the     more     she    continues     to     be     swallowed     by     the     dark     abyss     that     is     the     supernatural     side     of     this     forsaken     town.          Now,     half     her     fire    seems     to     have     been     extinguished     by     the     simple     fact     that     she’s     been     through     so     much     –     death,     gore,     blood     (     the     coppery     smell     won’t   leave     her     nostrils,     and     it     seems     to     follow     Roman     wherever     he     goes     ).     and     the     only     thing     she     can     manage     is     a     sneer     of     defiance,     a     way     of     calling     him    out     on     his     bullshit     –     that’s     all     she     can     do     at     the     moment.

                           “     you    two     were     just     trying     to     keep     the     town    from     finding     out     what     you     are.     you     were     covering     your     own     asses,     and     that     werewolf     was     collateral     damage     for     your     friend.     ”     the     inside     of     her     cheek     is   chewed     between     pearly     whites     (     more     coppery     taste     to     drown     in     ),     and     she   feels     her     broken     fingernails     digging     sharp     into     her     palms,     dirt     and     mud     coat     her     hands,     and     hanging     by     the     wall     of     her     living     room,     her     father’s     shotgun     is     a     grim     reminder     of     what     she’s     lived     these     past     weeks.

it     seemed     no     one     in     hemlock     grove     could     stomach     the     idea     of     olivia     godfrey,     let     alone     the     woman     in     the     flesh.     she     was     a     mystic     beast     in     the     eyes     of     honest     workers     and     a     foul     woman     to     her     working     staff     –     asserting     power     in     a     quaint     town     which     her     late     husband     sought     to     strengthen     rather     than     oppress.     roman     himself,     coined     as     the     resident     rich     boy     and     certainly     destined     to     follow     in     her     footsteps,     was     given     a     reputation     before     he     could     convince     his     mother     to     allow     him     to     immerse     with     the     rest     of     hemlock’s     youth.     get     them     to     fear     you,     she     said,     true     power     lies     in     the     falter     of     their     gaze.     the     prodigal     son     was     taught     many     things     about     greatness     and     the     exhilarating     road     of     power,     but     one     thing     that     couldn’t     stick     was     the     process     of     becoming     heartless.     and     so     he     stood     there,     shrouded     in     the     oncoming     sunset     to     offer     his     peace     to     jenny     fredericks     with     the     one     thing     that     kept     himself     feeling     alive.

he     watches     as     she     jumps     out     of     her     skin,     chocolate     hair     twirling     while     he     waits     for     azure     eyes     to     narrow     with     distaste.     he     waits     for     the     scowl,     the     threats,     maybe     a     hint     of     ass-kissing     because     no     one     ever     truly     acted     real     in     front     of     the     godfreys.     but     jenny     responds     with     sardonic     disbelief,     counters     with     honesty,     and     roman     is     left     at     the     back     entrance     to     follow     in     a     state     of     confusion.     what     the     fuck     was     he     supposed     to     bring     —     flowers?     he     jogs     to     follow,     though     isn’t     far     behind     with     long     limbs     traveling     over     the     broken     asphalt.

his     shoulders     stutter     with     a     shrug,     green     eyes     brightening     for     a     short     second     while     his     form     blocks     the     door     of     her     car.     “couldn’t     get     shelley     out     to     see     you     tonight.     she     really     fucking     misses     you,     you     know.     you     were     the     only     one     who     didn’t     treat     her     like     some     fucking     freak.”     roman’s     jaw     churns     with     contemplation,     brow     raising     while     he     dwells     on     how     many     times     he’s     had     to     make     her     feel     normal     –     to     humanize     her     after     relentless     taunts     of     difference.     “so     thanks.     and     one     day,     when     someone     starts     to     take     that     big     brain     of     yours     seriously,     maybe     you’ll     be     the     one     to     fire     me.”

                    shelley     –      the      moment      he      mentions      her,     she      stops      on      her      tracks      (      even     as      he      blocks      the      way      to      her      car,     like      a      goddamned      creep,      she      pays     little      notice      to      it      ),      and      her     gaze      shifts      from      side      to      side,      as     if,      suddenly,      the      guilt      overtook      her     from      head      to      toe.      Roman      probably      thinks     she      feels      pity      for      the      girl,     reason      why      she’s      always      polite      and     kind      (      that’s      what      rich      people     think,      right?      That      everybody      is      as      fake     as      them      );      Jenny      just      enjoys     seeing      her      face      light      up      when      she’ll    compliment      her      smile,      or      tell      her     about      a      new      piece      of      jewelery      she     would      fancy      –      why      would      anyone     need      a      reason      to      be      kind?      Why     should      anyone      need      to      pretend?

                   her     posture      still      softens      immediately,      shoulders     dropping      and      teeth      tugging      on      her     lower      lip      (      there      are      people    who      need      a      friend      more      than      we     assume,      would’ve      said      her      father     ).      and      as      she      ponders      such      a     notion,      the      word      freak      catches      her    attention,      quick      enough      she      is      to     retort,      retaliate,      voice      sharp      and      clear,    “      your      sister      isn’t      a      freak.    whoever      says      that      is      just      a      fucking     asshole.      she’s      the      loveliest      girl      i’ve     met      in      a      while.            ”      she’s     not      one      to      curse      perpetually,      reserved     mostly      for      situations      that      truly      call     for      it,      “      maybe      I      can      stop      by    for      a      moment      to      say      hi      …      ”

               despite     her      low      opinion      on      Roman      Godfrey     and      his      family,      she      still      admires      his     care      and      love      for      his      sister      –     it      reminds      her      of      her      own,      how     siblings      can      indeed      soften      even      the     most      screwed      up      of      people,      “      okay,    yeah,      I      can      go      say      hi      to      her.     but      you      try      nothing     funny      while      i’m      there,      got      it?      ”     she’s      still      offering      an      almost     playful      smile,      index      pointing      straight      at    his      chest,      “      my      sister      can      take     over      dinner      time      with      macaroni      and     cheese      or      something.      ”