slow dies the heart of the dreamer

That’s another thing I love about the Franny Beckwith story. It speaks to that helplessness because Ginger is only a child. She is at her most fragile, her most vulnerable – and I want her to be able to express that vulnerability. Thinking about her at the age of eight, I want an alternate world where she felt the world allowed her to be softer – but I know I will never get that because Ginger accepts the terms of the world around her. It’s cruder than in her teenage years. She just breaks Franny Beckwith’s nose and comes up with the pact to bind Brigitte to her. It’s unpolished. Ginger hasn’t honed the mythology she will build around herself and Brigitte. She can’t more subtly take advantage of the structures around her. She just lashes out – and it’s everything that comes afterward in its most unfiltered form, its most honest form. I always tend to humanize Ginger in my discussions of her, and will do so again here – because there is something heartbreaking about a child’s desperation, even if it is the root of the violence she will perfect in her teenage years, the violence that will take quieter forms… manipulations, cultivating herself and Brigitte as an in-group of their own and making everyone else an out-group, turning their outsiderhood back on everyone who thinks they are freaks but at the same time making sure that Brigitte stays on the margins with her. “Protecting” Brigitte to keep her near to her. The world thrives on quieter forms of violence, and Ginger can coast on how the world works. But in the Franny Beckwith story, she’s still only eight – and thinking about Ginger at eight, you feel for her, you know she’s not the monster she becomes – even while, hearing the story, you realize it is the beginning of the end.

sam winchester + expressions | supernatural