Chapter Text
Thirty-one years ago…
Ragatha was nine years old when she experienced death for the first time, but she was five when she slowly began to understand the concept of fear. She could not vocalize it yet, what she’d felt. Even well into adulthood and quickly approaching her fortieth birthday, she still did not quite know how to process her fear, nor could she ever truly acknowledge all that was rotten and cruel with the world.
She had good days and she had bad days.
Perhaps her life had been good once, back when she was still small and innocent and her mother hadn’t grown so callous. Back when father was still around in the picture and showered her and mother with adoration, before he grew a taste for women that were half of mother’s age.
He used to be a constant fixture in the evenings, but gradually—Little by little, he eventually just stopped returning home.
Mother and father never got a divorce.
Afterall, it was terribly unbecoming for a perfect, upstanding Catholic woman to be seen as ‘damaged’ and ‘unwanted’ and at first, mother thought it was all her fault! That it was only natural that father would be turned off by the sight of mother without makeup in the morning. She grew two pounds, and her hair had started to gray in some places.
It was all very unbecoming of a woman.
Father was kind but strict. He had standards. Standards that all women should uphold. But mother grew lazy. That’s how she described it. An uncharitable, ugly word, but if not that, then it would mean father was unfaithful.
Ragatha had gone by Agatha around this time.
Most of her life, really.
But for the sake of convenience, she’d much rather prefer to be called Ragatha these days.
Though that’s neither here nor there nor…anywhere, really, considering the circus is nothing but a memory from a distant past. Regardless, however, Ragatha tried her hardest to comfort her mother.
Times were different back then.
They lived in a beautiful three story mansion surrounded by wheat fields. They had a lovely ranch, and most importantly of all—The three most darling horses that any girl would have loved.
Ragatha’s life was perfect back then.
And most importantly of all, mother thought of her as perfect. The sweetest, kindest, most adorable little girl that any mother would be lucky to have! But just like all good things in Ragatha’s life, it all came to an end.
It was a gradual change at first.
Mother started to regard her with harsh words, had started to take to her rather unkindly. But worst of all was mother’s quickly developing affinity for alcohol. She was a different person when she was drunk.
Ragatha always hated the scent of alcohol.
Mother, however, could only derive happiness from a bottle.
It wasn’t so bad at first, until one day, something just changed. Ragatha couldn’t describe itl. Afterall, this all happened so terribly long ago, but there was a resounding crack as mother threw a bottle at the other end of the wall—Nearly hitting Ragatha in the process. She had only been five then, though she knew by that point it would have been undignified for her to cry.
Girls don’t cry. They must always act kind and obedient and sweet.
She must only be seen and not heard, except…mother did not want to see her.
Ragatha should have stayed, but when mother tipsily approached her, when she knelt down and picked up that jagged glass bottle, Ragatha had…she betrayed mother. She turned on her heels and fled—Leaving behind mother. Leaving everything behind, wondering all the while where father could be.
Her cute pinafore dress, her lovely white shoes had become a curse. They dragged her down, but Ragatha couldn’t stop running.
She ran through endless halls, trying so very hard to get away…to find help, to just correct her mistakes so that mother could love her again.
Mother was a different person when she was drunk.
She drank all of the time.
Ragatha ran until her legs ached and her feet bled. Until her tears had dried on her face. Until her lungs were burning, until she collapsed onto the ground, right in the foyer. Mother had found her then, had…well, it was all a blur.
But all that Ragatha could see was endless darkness.
She found herself trapped inside of a closet.
There was no light. It was so unbearably cold, so dark, and it was just…Ragatha banged on the door, pleading with mother to let her go. She was sorry. So incredibly sorry for being a rotten, spoiled daughter. For being a bad girl, for not doing as she was told. She should have never tried to interfere, she should have never tried to clean up the broken bottles that littered mother’s room.
She should have never asked about father.
Ragatha slammed her fists against the door until her knuckles bled, until she nearly dislocated her wrists.
She looked down at her shaking hands.
While she could not see anything, she could smell the unmistakable and sickening metallic scent of blood.
Ragatha’s eyes were blurry. She could no longer cry. She could no longer afford to cry since that wasn’t what mother wanted. And what mother wanted, she’d always get. She needed to become a better person. She needed to be that perfect, obedient doll that any mother would be proud of.
Her face was still unmarred by time.
She still had two eyes.
At least she looked like mother. That was a blessing, right?
The scent of blood is far too pervasive, and…it’s cold. Unbearably cold, and the ground is hard and coarse and when she looks down, it’s no longer quite as dark. But there’s far too much blood, and there’s a figure laying on the ground right where she’s kneeling.
He’s only clad in a white shirt, but it’s practically falling off of his slim frame. Blood and other fluids are clinging to his tan skin, and when Ragatha looks down at him—When she tries, tries, tries to get Jax to wake up, to not die, to just……
Jax couldn’t die.
Ragatha was five when she felt what it was like to fear the very woman who was meant to love and protect her unconditionally. She was nine when she realized just how finite life truly was, and she was eighteen when she wondered if it was even worth it to remain alive. But she still lived on regardless.
To kill herself was a sin, and it’s not like Ragatha could complain when so many had it worse than her.
She grew up in a lovely mansion. She had horses who meant the whole world to her.
Ragatha knew what it was like to experience hunger.
And so what, if mother was a drunkard? And so what if father was unfaithful to mother? It’s not like Ragatha had any right to complain, when she could never continue their family line.
It’s not like Ragatha had it bad.
Afterall, she wasn’t the man bleeding out on the ground. She wasn’t the one who was defiled, who was raped. Unlike Jax, she was never raised in a cult.
Blood clung to her hands. Her dress was soaked in crimson, but it was absurd. So fucking absurd, because how could Jax die now after they all managed to escape from the circus together? He couldn’t die.
He couldn’t die.
Ragatha wouldn’t let him.
She tried to forget.
She let him die.
He still had a whole entire life ahead of him, unlike her. She tried to be kind, tried to be patient and understanding and everything else that her mother was not, even though Jax’s very many eccentricities and mean-spirited jabs made it hard to like him sometimes.
But…he didn’t deserve this.
No one deserved this.
Ragatha desperately pleaded with him to open his eyes, to not die, even though it was only her own inherent selfishness that kept her hands on his wounded stomach. He’d been shot. He took a bullet that was meant for her.
Jax was supposed to live. It was Ragatha who was supposed to die, who was supposed to lay there in agony, writhing in a pool of her own blood.
She was practically holding onto a corpse at that point.
He died he died he died and it was all Ragatha’s fault and how could she ever show herself to the others, how could she ever show herself around Pomni when it was Ragatha’s fault that her girlfriend’s best friend died and Jax didn’t deserve this—
Why couldn’t Ragatha why couldn’t she have been someone deserving of love and why couldn’t Ragatha have done something more Jax didn’t deserve this how could this have happened why did Ragatha have to push him away and make him feel safe and unwanted to the point of returning to this hellish cult if only Ragatha was better if only she could have protected him and mother instead of…she should have been someone else other than herself……
Why why why why why why WHY DID EVERYONE ALWAYS LEAVE HER BEHIND—
He’s bleeding out in his restroom.
Jax had slit his own wrists. He’d nearly severed them entirely, and it was far too much blood and again, Ragatha couldn’t be someone he could rely on. He still lived back then, he didn’t die, but Ragatha didn’t do anything. She couldn’t save him couldn’t make him feel safe and her chest is heavy and there’s a heavy weight on it and she can’t breathe she can’t breathe she can’t breathe……
There’s a sharp ringing in her ears.
---
Present day…
Ragatha jolts wide awake to the sound of a familiar melody, though it doesn’t quite register in her head. She immediately sits upright, one hand pressed over her chest as she feels a heavy weight fall off of her. Ragatha doubles over, is left gasping for breath. Her features pale, and her only remaining eye is wide in panic. There’s a sharp ringing in her ears, and somehow, it feels as if she’s dying.
She doesn’t know how long she remains there, but her chest is heavy, and her heart is aching. Her throat is constricted, and it feels as if she could very well drown in her own tears-
Meow.
Ragatha’s breathing gradually stills. She looks to her right and is overcome with loneliness. Pomni is no longer by her side, and a traitorous thought burrows into her head. Had Pomni left her? Ragatha certainly couldn’t blame her, when her lovely girlfriend was perfect. She deserved someone far more graceful, far more pretty and intelligent and fun than her—
Oh, a cat had just jumped onto the bed.
Mr. Mittens, to be exact.
That’s a relief, at least.
Pomni would never dare to leave Mr. Mittens behind.
Kinger actually insisted that Ragatha bring Mr. Mittens along for the ride. Kinger had said that Mr. Mittens was something of a therapy cat, and Ragatha would be inclined to agree.
The adorably fluffy cat stares at her, says another soft ‘meow,’ before climbing onto her lap.
“Mr. Mittens, your fur is so soft,” Ragatha praises as she gently pets him. She really didn’t need a therapy animal, considering this whole trip to bury her mother and perform her final rites wasn’t anything worth writing home about, but Ragatha would be lying if she said Mr. Mittens wasn’t adorable.
And she most certainly would never pass up the opportunity to spend time with her most favorite feline in the whole wide world—
An all too familiar melody cuts through the silence like a knife.
Mr. Mittens’s fur stands on end as he hisses, before he dashes off as Ragatha picks up her phone. Ragatha closes her eye for a moment, takes a deep breath before she answers, “Hello?”
The voice on the other end is frantic.
It’s Pomni.
Ragatha is hardly able to keep up with her girlfriend, but Pomni’s practically screaming. Ragatha immediately bolts upright, fetching her coat from the hanger and putting on a pair of cheap but complimentary slippers, before running outside of the motel room.
She must have misheard.
There’s no way anyone in their right mind could possibly……
---
Well, it looks like Ragatha did hear correctly. And no, what Pomni had been saying was most certainly not an exaggeration.
“Not. A. Single. Word,” Jax hisses through grit teeth.
Pomni’s rolling around on the ground, clutching her stomach as she hysterically laughs at Jax’s misfortune.
“How did this…no, why is your…” Ragatha pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing in exasperation. “Okay, just tell me one thing—Jax, was a $1.35 worth getting your arm stuck inside of a vending machine?”
“It was $2.00.”
“What,” Ragatha blankly asks, her voice drowned out by Pomni’s cackling.
Jax at the very least has the ability to act almost ashamed. His eyes are downcast, cheeks dusted a faint red as he awkwardly mutters, “This was a setup, a scam! This motel cheated me out of two bucks.”
Ragatha’s eye involuntarily twitches. “Two dollars was not worth getting your arm stuck inside of a vending machine.”
“Easy for you to say, capitalist. And just…just shut up,” Jax mutters, clearly flustered as he glares daggers at Ragatha and Pomni. Easier said than done when he’s, ya’ know—Got his arm stuck inside of a vending machine. “Get me out of this death box already!!”
Finally managing to calm herself down, Pomni’s sporting a cheeky smiles as she asks, “What’s the magic word~?”
Jax narrows his eyes. “You’re insufferable.”
“Yeah, but remember who told you to just let those two bucks go? I recall explicitly saying, ‘No Jax, don’t stick your arm inside of that vending machine!’ But then you said, 'I do what I want! And guess what happened?” Pomni grins. “You got yourself trapped in a vending machine—”
“It’s not funny,” Jax grumbles.
Ragatha, unable to resist chiming in, can’t help but admit, “Actually, it’s a little funny…”
“No one asked you, communist,” Jax angrily hisses.
“But…you just called me a capitalist,” Ragatha confusedly responds.
Jax rolls his eyes. “Same thing.”
“Not really,” Pomni deadpans, before both she and Ragatha manage to free Jax’s arm from the vending machine.
“…Didn’t even get my soda,” Jax sulks as he stuffs his hands into his pockets, only for him to slightly wince.
Ragatha pretends as if she didn’t see anything, though her gaze lingers on the scars peeking out from Jax’s sleeves. They’re no longer as bad as they had been three years ago, but they’re still quite pronounced and visible and even though Ragatha has gotten better at not fussing over Jax, and even though Jax is no longer quite as standoffish [Amazing what having a positive relationship with his mother does to a person], Ragatha can’t help but worry that Jax is still hiding something.
She doesn’t know a whole lot about this medical jargon and such, but she did ask Kinger’s boyfriend about it one time.
A remarkable man, really, even though Ragatha is strangely reminded of that one NPC from the circus……
Well, Ragatha doesn’t know a whole lot about any of anything at all, really, but from what she learned, it seems like the wounds Jax had suffered will follow him for a lifetime.
Physical, mental, emotional.
Ragatha tried her best, but clearly, her best wasn’t good enough.
She glances at him from the corner of her peripheral eye.
He’s clearly favoring one leg over the other, and even though Jax is trying to be discrete, he’s gripping tightly onto his wrist. He’s smiling, looking as carefree as ever, but it looks forced, reminding Ragatha of herself whenever she looks in a mirror.
“—Want to go out?”
“Hm?” Ragatha tilts her head.
Pomni’s smile softens ever so slightly, and there’s a hint of worry in her eyes as she asks, “Want to come along with us, Raggie? Just gonna stop by the convenience store and buy ice cream. You know, for the idiot who got his arm trapped inside of a vending machine.”
“Just let it go, already!!” Jax childishly exclaims, stomping his foot for good measure.
“Nah, don’t think I will, buddy,” Pomni chuckles, before wrapping one arm around his waist—
Only for Jax to immediately push her away. His eyes are wide in alarm, and his arms are shaking. He’s visibly shaken up, and Pomni, upon realizing what had just happened, slowly backs away from him and returns to Ragatha’s side. Holding both of her hands up in a placating manner, trying to make Jax feel safe…to ensure that there’s no one else aside from them here.
That there are no men waiting for him, jus around the corner.
Ragatha raises her hand, about to reach for Jax, only for it to limply fall at her side.
She turns on her heels, unable to intervene, knowing fully well that she’d only make it worse.
“Ragatha…?” Pomni quietly calls out to her.
Without turning around, Ragatha softly says, “Maybe you should…maybe it would be best if you stayed with Jax for the night. He needs someone to look out for him…”
“Why don’t you come along?”
Ragatha closes her eye. She takes a deep breath, before finally turning around and offering Pomni a faint, hollow smile. “No, no, that’s quite alright, dear. Just a lot on my mind, what with organizing mother’s funeral and all.”
“I’d feel better if all three of us were together,” Pomni gently says.
Ragatha shakes her head. “Just need to get some rest. No need to worry, Pomni! This is hardly the first funeral I’ve had to organize.”
“That’s why I’m worried about…”
It’ll be fine.
This is hardly the first funeral Ragatha has organized, and…as she watches Jax in a detached short of manner, she can’t help but wonder if this will be far from her last.