Break Downs Are More Fun...

Jack felt herself begin to shake out of anger. Her entire body quivered with anger and she stared back at Vito, eyes stinging harder and harder as he said he did not need her but he had only needed alcohol.

She was a fool. Vito was a disgusting, revolting being and she had left herself think that maybe, just maybe, she could be good enough to help him. That maybe she had the strength, the courage, and the abilities to help him. But who had she been kidding. She was not that special. She was just a kid, really. She had never succeeded in making her family less ignorant, or getting Riley to turn his back on their terrible parents, or her friends to grow up, or Elliot to move on with his life. She had not even been able to achieve finding her place in the world.

Who was she kidding?

He stepped closer and began growling at her practically and she pressed herself even further against the wall, almost cowering against his words. She squeezed her eyes shut as his words hit her like a brick wall. She could not breathe. Vito had figured out her big problem, her secret...

She did not trust anyone it seemed. The people she trusted let her down to easily. The problem was, she had fooled herself into thinking she could at least trust Vito to be evil and horrible, and from there she began trusting him to not completely crush her spirit, because he needed her to be strong enough to offer a competent rivalry. But when it came down to it, there was no one she could trust. She was pathetic. And now Vito knew.

He moved away and she stayed pressed against the wall for a moment, still shaking. Suddenly, her lip trembled and she made a choking noise, before sliding down the wall. She bit her lip and tears began sliding down her cheeks.

Jack had broken.

She had never let on that she was as insecure as everyone else. She had hidden the fact that she felt her existence was useless unless she was helping someone, saving someone. She had tried to avoid the fact that her life was nothing but perceived friendships and fake trust, when it was really all smoke and mirrors.

And now she had to face it.

Anger seized her and she stood to her feet, violently dragging the heel of her palm over both eyes to wipe away any tear tracks. She stomped out of the bathroom and into Vito's bedroom. Her hands balled into fists and her entire body shook with emotion as she faced Vito, who was looking the opposite way. "WHY?" She demanded, in a booming voice. "WHY DO YOU HAVE TO DO THAT?" Her voice cracked slightly, but she didn't care. Her eyes and face were ablaze with emotion and she was pissed.

He listened as a sob escaped her lips, but surprisingly, it did not bring him the satisfaction he had always imagined he would feel upon breaking her down- no, instead he felt as if he hadn’t actually accomplished anything, and that it had all been for nothing. Vito slowly moved his eyes in the direction of his mirror on the other side of the room and stared at his reflection on the glass; his eyes were dark and catlike, his brown hair was messy due to the evening before, and his clothing was wrinkled and smelled strongly of alcohol and cigarette smoke- he had never been in worse shape than at that very moment, and it almost made him turn around and beat the female behind him to death…

… but he resisted the urge and allowed Jack’s angry words to fill his ears. Why? Why did he have to do such a thing to someone who had only tried to help him? Perhaps because he was angry with himself for allowing someone to get close to him? Or maybe even because of the fact that he believed that that was what he was created to do… but either way, he shook with anger, and he couldn’t control himself as he slowly began to become transparent. Vito watched as his reflection in the mirror vanished, and Jack with her red hair and her childish face was the only thing left to be seen in the mirror.

Vito silently circled around the young female until he was the one standing behind her. He pulled his arm back, balled his fingers into a fist, and shot his arm forward in the direction of Jack’s head- but he moved his arm just before he hit her, and ended up punching the wall, his knuckles cracking painfully when they collided with it. He groaned and dropped to his knees; he hadn’t thought of how much pain such an action would cause him, and was quite taken by surprise when he looked down at his fist to see that two of his fingers were bent in a sickening way.

In a way, the pain was relieving, because it reminded Vito that he was still there, despite the fact that he was transparent- but looking down at his two broken fingers, Vito couldn’t help but feel disgusted. He took his index finger in his other hand and pulled it back into place. “Ah!” he hissed, dropping further to the floor. “Damn it!”

Jack stared at him, trying to control her expression as she sucked her lips inward and tried to keep her chin from quivering. It made her hate herself to know that she was not looking like a robot as usual, with a blank, measured expression that gave away nothing.

She stared over his shoulder and at his reflection, realizing how pathetic the pair of them were. At the moment, they were both at their worst, as tore down as they could have ever been. She stared back as resolutely as she could, but if anything, it just made it even more apparent that she was just a kid in over her head.

She was despicable.

Suddenly, Vito disappeared and she felt herself subconsciously wrap her arms around herself as she stepped forward towards the wall slightly. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, and suddenly the wall in front of her exploded. She let out a yell and covered her face, wheeling around and backing up until she hit the wall again. She glanced up to see Vito falling to his knees holding his hand. She stared at him.

His fingers were broken, she could see that. She had broken a few bones when she was young and had pulled off enough harebrained stunts to know when there was a serious injury. She sucked in a breath and walked around him, hurrying over and grabbing her knapsack, dragging it over to Vito before kneeling in front of him.

"Careful," she said matter of factly. She reached into her bag and shifted things around, searching for her first aid kit. "You'll need a Healer," she said. "But we can wrap it for now." She did not think her Episkey spell would work on a broken finger, seeing as the hand was the most complex structure in the skeleton. She pulled out her first aid kit and opened it, glad that she had been planning on a camping trip in the near future. She pulled out a roll of bandages and met Vito's gaze. She held out a hand so that she could inspect and wrap his own.

Vito parted his lips to say something rude in reply, but closed them almost immediately afterwards; Why on earth was Jack helping him? Was she that ignorant to believe that he had actually intended to hit the wall in the first place? No, she was clever enough to at least guess what his fist would have ended up colliding with had he not moved at the last minute, Vito knew that after all the fights the two of them had that ended in her winning against him. Vito scoffed, but placed his disfigured hand in hers nonetheless, glaring at the walls as if it was because of them that he had lost his temper. Why had he moved in order to miss the back of Jack’s head? He didn’t want to clean her blood off of the floor. Simple as that.

“Ouch- watch it!” The poltergeist hissed, “That hand alone is worth more money than even your uncle could ever give you.” That was Vito’s way of saying, “yes, ouch, yes that does hurt,” along with the many curse words that he muttered under his breath.

They were both at their worst at that moment; Vito had broken Jack with his cruel words, and Vito had been torn apart by the fear inside of him that he was going to have to start his life over once more- and yet, there they were, bickering as usual, and sitting in the middle of Vito’s bedroom on the cold floor. There was a balance between the two, whether Vito liked to admit it or not, a balance that even he could not destroy.

A few small droplets of crimson blood slid down Vito’s knuckles from the tear in his skin that he had received when his fist had connected with the wallpaper, along with his broken index finger and a shattered thumb. He stared at his hand; it wasn’t perfect anymore. An unpleasant shiver ran down his spine when he realized this; what if a healer couldn’t return it to its original form?

The thought disgusted him.

Jack's eyes flicked up towards Vito as he placed his hand in hers, but he was staring determinedly away. She was surprised he had accepted her help. Honestly, she had not been to sure why she had even offered her help, but once she had, she had expected him to call her a name and leave, or order her to leave.

She wondered if he was beginning to accept the fact that no matter what, they still got along in a strange, dysfunctional way that just worked. Sigmund Freud was probably rolling over in his grave, because there was no way these two people should be able to be in each other's presence for more than a moment or two, and here they were.

She pulled over her first aid kit and opened up a pack of disinfecting wipes. She was used to the stinging feeling of the cleanser but obviously Vito was not, because he reminded her that his hand was worth more than her uncle's money. Honestly, she doubted that because Uncle Chip was filthy stinking rich, but she just pursed her lips. He was trying to reclaim his masculinity or something she was sure, trying to re-prove his dominance, and Jack understood. Men and dogs were pigheaded that way, and everybody else learned to just deal with it.

After she mopped up his hand, she realized that it was not as bad as she had thought before. It was broken, but it was a clean simple break. She had remembered finding a bird with a clean broken wing like that when she was young and she had been able to nurse it back to health.

She took out the bandages and carefully, but tightly wrapped the fingers so that they could not move, but were pinned together. She safety pinned the bandages and then glanced up at Vito. "I'm pretty sure I can heal it with Episkey now that I can see it. It'll just pop back into place and the bone will meld together." She pulled out her wand but did not point it at him. She raised an eyebrow. "May I?"

“No, no you may not blow up my hand,” Vito hissed stubbornly in reply and pulled his hand back towards himself, resting it on his leg, “I have no idea what grades you get at Hogwarts, and I’d rather not play test dummy.” Vito shifted slowly, careful not to bump his hand in any way that would cause him pain, and stood so that he was looking down at Jack. He liked it that way a lot more than being level with her; it made him feel superior to her- though he knew already that he had the upper hand. “Who carries around a first aid kit anyway?” he scoffed rather immaturely when he couldn’t think of anything crueler to say to the female.

Vito honestly didn’t know how to respond to anything at that moment; his thoughts were jumbled and his head was throbbing painfully because of his hangover. He really just wanted to go downstairs and grab himself a bottle of wine for breakfast- What had gotten into him? Vito had never been so obsessed with alcohol, in fact, that week had been the first time in years he’d actually allowed himself to get drunk. At that very moment, Vito felt weakness; as if his thoughts and his emotions were popping up in visible word bubbles around his head.

All because of the redhead who insisted on helping Vito. “Damn you…” he growled abruptly and ran the hand that he hadn’t injured through his hair in order to tame it. He turned on his heel and walked over to the large closet on the other side of the room; he didn’t enjoy that feeling of weakness, and had to correct it before it got out of hand.

The poltergeist ran a finger (one of the eight that he hadn’t broken) along the suits that were hanging from metal hangers, eyeing each one for a few moments before moving on to the next. His eyes stopped on a black jacket that was paired with a pair of matching, dark colored slacks, and pulled the hanger and the clothing out of the closet, turning around in the same swift move. Vito laid the clothing out on his bed carefully so that they didn’t wrinkle, and bent down, picking his shoes up off of the floor.

“Where did you put my cigarette, Jack?!” he hissed after sitting down on the mattress, taking his shoes off. He leaned backwards and rested his head against one of the cool pillows, which felt rather soothing to his pounding skull.

“If you ever bring up what I told you last night I wont hesitate to erase your memory, understood?” he asked in his usual low and mysterius voice- though he didn’t turn to face her while he spoke, instead he kept his eyes on the clothing he had prepared, determined not give away his frustration with himself.

Jack shrugged and said, "Okay, just thought I would offer." Though honestly, she would not have trusted her in his situation. Had it been a less significant injury or had it been an emergency that she get it fixed, she might let someone heal it, but she needed her fingers... He stood up and she looked up at him. She decided the best thing to do right now would be to stay put.

She actually had an answer to his scoffing question and so she replied smoothly, "Someone who's on the move a lot. I go from place to place in the summer and I camp too. When you're out on your own you can get hurt and you have to have something like this so that you can fix yourself up." She patted her knapsack. "You wouldn't believe the things I have in here." She grimaced slightly. Inside was camping gear, extra clothes, even some food.

He cursed her and turned around, scoffing and throwing up a hand like Why do I even bother? though he did not see. He moved away and she clambered up, bringing herself to full height as she pulled the knapsack back onto her back. He growled a warning at her and she sighed. "I would not dream of it." She ran a hand through her hair and looked down at her clothes, while they were on the subject of clothes. Luckily, she had an extra outfit in her bag. "I'm going to go change, okay?" She walked into the bathroom and locked the door behind her.

Vito turned his head to watch the redhead walk in the other direction and disappear into the bathroom, his injured hand held firmly to his chest. As soon as he heard the small click of the lock, he crumbled to the floor in a way that no one had ever seen- or would ever see Vito Dee Symons act. He leaned his shoulder and his head against the frame of his mattress, and covered his face with one of his hands, breathing in sharply. Why was he feeling so panicked? So on-edge? Simple. Jack Dyllan knew something about Vito that no one else who was still breathing knew, and it… well, it frightened Vito, as much as he hated to admit it- and he slammed his head against the wood bed frame several times because of this.

Thud, thud, thud. Silence. Vito stopped when he remembered that his bedroom wasn’t soundproof, and Jack could probably hear the racket he was making; he didn’t want her to walk out in the middle of his melt-down, that was for sure. The poltergeist slowly tilted his head backwards until he was staring at the ceiling and squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could without tearing the skin of his eyelids.

“F*ck… f*ck- f*ck!” Vito cursed the air about him, his voice cracking even though he tried his hardest to keep it level. Thud, thud, Vito slammed his head against the wood a few more times for good measure; anything to keep himself from sobbing, that would be too much for him to recover from. Vito Dee Symons was smooth, sly, and cold- so who was this mess sitting on Vito’s bedroom floor?

Vito slid his hand slowly upward and away from his face, moving it into his hair. He ran his fingers through it- something that had become something of a habit of Vito’s – but he still refused to open his eyes, because he had a good feeling that when he looked in the mirror, he would once again see nothing but the furniture behind him. He tried to get to his feet, but he only slid downwards once more, as if his feet had forgotten how to support his weight.

“Damn you!” he growled at himself, not knowing who else to punish for his breakdown.

Jack had always been quick about getting dressed; at Hogwarts, you did not have much time. She had pulled on a fresh pair of skinny jeans and a new shirt when she suddenly heard a few thuds. She paused but continued to pull on her clothes, passing it off as maybe a bar fight from below. Then she could hear Vito's cursing. She adjusted her clothes and slipped out of the bathroom and strode into the bedroom.

The sight that met her eyes was unbelievable. Vito, crumpled against a wall, banging his head against it, gritting his teeth, flickering between human form and transparency. She could see the wall crumbling where his head hit it and her eyes widened.

Vito was breaking down. Not just getting a little stupid like he had when he was drinking, but he was psychologically breaking down. She half-shouted, "Vito!" in alarm and rushed forward, stopping to kneel in front of him and seize his shoulders to keep him from further hurting his head or the wall.

She knew her help was unwanted by Vito. Her care would go wasted, her determined attitude never prosperous when suited against Vito's stubborn pride. But here was the problem. She was the only one that would even try. No one else cared enough about Vito to keep him from ramming his head through a wall.But for some reason, Jack Dyllan did.

She may be drafting her own death sentence, but right now she just wanted Vito to stop hurting himself. Her eyes scanned his face and she said earnestly, "Stop. You're gonna kill yourself."

And there she was; the cause of the problem, and the one who always wanted to be there to end the problem- and at first, Vito fought against her in an attempt to remove her hands from his shoulders, but eventually his attempts to free himself ceased when he realized that there really was no point. Jack didn’t just go away, she never had, and he really needed to save his breath and his energy and just accept the fact. Accepting the fact, however, took a lot more out of Vito than fighting against her ever had and it certainly did its damage to his pride.

He was going to kill himself she said? No, it wasn’t possible, he knew that. Would he if he could? He pondered on that question for a moment when he realized that he didn’t have any real answer; ending Vito Dee Symons would mean no longer dealing with all that ‘creator’ nonsense… but it would also mean no more Satin’s, no more running his hand through his hair or perfecting his appearance, it would also mean no more murder, no more hatred- but those were the things he lived for, and he really wouldn’t be able to let go of it forever.

No, Vito decided, even if he cold take his own life, he wouldn’t, because it would be just as bad as being created all over again.

“Not again…” had those words really left his lips? He could have sworn that they had only been thoughts until he had heard his voice. He was just digging a deeper hole for himself, and at the rate he was doing, it would only be another hour until he had created his own, six foot deep grave, tombstone and all.

There was a moment of complete silence after that, one that was made up of tension, frustration, and fear- but honestly, Vito didn’t have anything witty to say to break that silence; he had no insults left, no jabs at Jack… nothing. And so he did something that no one, even himself, was expecting from Vito Dee Symons; the poltergeist leaned against Jack, lying his head against hers because he didn’t have the capacity at that moment to push her away again. He just needed a moment to collect himself; to deal with his fear of being ripped out of his life and placed somewhere completely new where he would have to start over completely.