chapter two


2000

“Jill you shouldn’t get so involved in these children’s lives. Half the time they don’t need or even want advice, they’ll chiefly and essentially benefit just from having somebody listen to them. Let them work their problems out on there own and just try to be available if ever they do need any aid. No matter what you do or how hard you try, you must realize that you can’t save everyone.”
Tara Austen finished what meant to be a lecture that would soothe the riled Jill Bennett but looked up at her only to see how little effect it had in accomplishing that farfetched goal. She knew that if she didn’t do something quick she’d be caught in another debate on the already exhausted subject of how, as Jill so delicately put it, “Teen Crisis Help-Line does precisely dick when it comes to actually helping anybody.” By the time Tara could dream up something that would save herself from the whirlwind of words that would inevitably come barreling towards her at any moment an argument was upon her.
“How about saving anyone for a change? When was the last time you got off the phone really feeling like you had affected someone’s life, even for the worst? Although we might not see it now, sometimes succeeding in helping someone in the tunneling procession down doesn't always result in a negative end. Eventually they’ll have to hit bottom and then there is only one way left to go. But instead of accomplishing even that small feat each one of us hangs up our phone knowing that nothing will change. I know all the reasons why we aren’t allowed to interfere with these kids’ lives without their consent but since when does a teenager necessarily know what’s best for them? We should be able to judge for ourselves if a case is important enough to step in and take action, with or without the go ahead of a child who’s no doubt scared shitless,” Jill finished vehemently.
Anyone at first glance at this, at the risk of sounding cliché, dangerous beauty would never for a second suspect her of such complicated and controversial views on anything. It’s not that she appeared to be slow or dim-witted, it was just that she took upon the farce of seeming so damn innocent. Even the people who knew her best never quite anticipated what next. Tara herself had been good friends with the woman for more than five years and yet it was apparent to anyone of how much of a mystery Jill still was to her. The girl doubtlessly continued to amaze her after all this time.
In a subtler, more subdued tone, Tara replied as was expected of her, “Jill you know what I have to say next because we’ve had this discussion hundreds of times before. Why do you insist on fighting me about this? You know I’m not the enemy here, don’t kill the messenger, I don’t make the rules I just enforce them, blah, blah, blah. Heaven knows I can’t disagree with you because I know you’re right, but sometimes being right just isn’t enough. Now I’d like you to go home for the day and cool off. Come back tomorrow when this evening isn’t so very fresh in your mind.”


Jill sighed deeply, cleansing herself as fully as would ever be possible again, and nodded her assent to the older woman. She knew Tara was only doing what she had to but still Jill wished the responsibility were on someone else’s shoulders so she didn’t have to be so damned civil all the time; she’d never been able to remain angry when it came to her mentor and friend Tara Austen.
With another sigh she left the small office and came into the Room of Ringing, as her and her colleagues had so affectionately dubbed it. Pinned helplessly to each wall for all to witness their humiliation were posters that falsely labeled themselves as inspirational when they were mainly just sad. Her all time favorite was the one that misquoted Ralph Waldo Emerson. It said on it in bold, black letters “Consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds” and underneath there was a transparent head where its brain was visible as being eaten away at by a sneaky group of green blob looking monsters. On her worst days when she caught sight of it while on the phone she briefly considered telling the person on the other line that to solve all their problems all they had to do was forget their principles and step off whatever course they’d been traveling all their lives. “Oh, don’t worry child. All you have to do is simply let go of everything you’ve ever believed in and your pregnancy will magically take care of itself, or if it doesn’t at least you’ll then have acquired enough brain power to figure it out for yourself.” The depressing part she had aforementioned was that for most of the kids who called her up that advice would most likely save their lives, one way or another.
Jill sluggishly gathered up a few papers and some other stuff she suspected she’d have need of before tomorrow evening and tossed them into a scribbled on backpack so ancient that the brand name was no longer legible. She strapped herself into the comfortable shape her own shoulders had molded into the fabric and left the building that was comparatively miniscule to all others on the street. When she stepped outside into the late summer night, or early morning depending on who’s asked, she looked around her and fiercely hoped she wouldn’t ever have to leave this lovely life of hers behind. Living in the same place for as long as she had had failed to diminish her awe and adoration for all of its heart-wrenching beauty. As she stood in one of the few rarely toured areas of Vermont with her throat rapidly swelling to a point beyond language she thought cheerfully, “As if I need the inadequacy of words at the moment anyway.” What was making her do what almost no one alive had ever accomplished, rendering her speechless, was none other than the same moon shining through the same trees in which ran within the same maple that anyone else would have trod past refusing a glance. So unless you failed to see this sight from behind the lustrous lakes that were Jill Bennett’s eyes, words were lacking indeed.
After her initial hesitation concerning whether or not she wanted her heart to just stop so that the view would be the last she would witness on this planet, and therefore making the memory all the more strong she supposed, Jill continued her slight journey to the parking lot.

Jill was home and therefore laid out all pretenses on the back of a quaint oak chair. Usually when she got home she wouldn’t be able to sleep for the life of her but this morning she was emotionally exhausted and climbed into bed without even changing.
She awoke at early afternoon and showered and dressed sluggishly. When she was as refreshed as she planned on getting she stood in her living room for a moment before feeling a familiar feeling of restlessness so she grabbed some files and left again to walk down to the local Ben and Jerry's. They were as popular there as Starbucks was in just about the rest of the world. She went there often, no less than once a week, since this wasn't exactly the first time Tara had sent her home to 'unwind' and she often felt stifled in the same place for too long with nothing to do.
When the few miles receded she reached the little shop and ordered her regular: Coffee Heath Bar Crunch. In other words, according to her uncultured taste buds, the greatest coffee ice cream in all the world. She recognized the girl behind the counter and they exchanged some brief pleasantries before Jill went outside and took a table under a wilting willow tree. She recalled the overwhelming impatience she once experienced when witnessing two people carry on about nothing in particular but always firmly remaining politely impersonal. Oh what frustration bore into her as she watched this spectacle! Perhaps she had felt this way because she had never had a simple life and could not recognize daily pleasures. Ruminating over this particle of knowledge she suspected once again that this tidbit about herself even further nudged her in the direction of Ravyn. She knew very well that that wasn't his given name but who completely accepts the title they’re given at birth? A fortunate few she supposed.
By an early age Ravyn fit the description of what too many people dubbed a 'troublemaker'. You know, the kids that stood up for themselves and others at the expense of another's pride. Heaven forbid we get anymore of their kind. He supposedly grew up in some run-down neighborhood with several younger siblings. Either he didn't have a father or what he had could never be called a father without telling a lie because Ravyn was the 'guardian' of those around him and he fit into the role with a familiarity that could only be contributed to experience. He was strongest when protecting and having the option of being weak just never seemed to come up. Or it did come up from time to time but without being indulged. He didn't hesitate to break some rules when fulfilling the duties he'd appointed himself over his loved ones. As you can see, he was quite a fucking problem to society.
Of course this was all theory. The result of an expensive psychologist’s assumptions "after hours of careful speculation." Truthfully, Jill thought the whole thing smelled faintly of bullshit. She was the only person who received any calls from Ravyn and ever since the first moment she spoke to him she couldn't seem to get him out of her head.
The beginning of his series of phone calls had come two years earlier. Jill had answered with her typical opening line of "This is Teen Crisis Help-Line and my name's Jill. Talk to me, I'm listening," to a smooth male voice. She remembered the first thing he'd said to her very clearly, "Do right here and you'll be hearing from me again. If you really wanna help somebody than please don't say anything for a sec cuz here's your chance." He'd then proceeded to explain a disturbing situation to her that involved a vindictive junkie of a mother who beat her two young children periodically and then black-mailed her recovering alcoholic ex-husband for hundreds with the threat of blaming their bruised little bodies on his "newly returned, chemical-induced rages" just so she'd have enough money to feed her own addictions. After he'd finished his story Ravyn gave the exact name and address of this woman and promised that if they went to her at the time he'd given Jill they would witness her committing her unforgivable crime. Then he hung up.
Jill had only heard from him around a dozen times altogether since then but his calls always ended with the saving of one victim or another and Jill liked him for it. She sat at her table and pored over his files yet again until it became chilly and she got up to leave. It was always doing that to her.

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